Author: <span>Justine</span>
Je t’appertiens

I am trying to understand most Americans’ hang up with sex and “deviation” from the missionary position. There is so much out there to explore and experience. One of my friends honestly got into a debate with a co-worker, and I use debate lightly as they were barely audible, about who should be on top – the male or female. I couldn’t help myself; “Give me a break,” I said. They were not talking to me, and like I said, they were whispering, but they were like a foot from me. Since they have recently come to know some of my sexual predilections, I assumed they wanted me to hear. “We were not really asking your opinion.”

“Obviously not,” I replied, ” as I am not from the Victorian era where a woman lain quietly underneath her partner and politely and quietly faked an orgasm.” I left the room to glares and more whispers and pondered what the heck was wrong with some people.

One of my favorite blogs, This D/s Life, and the current post , which consists of Molly, the sub, talking about an event that she and her Dom attend regularly. You see, the men dress in suites and the women are naked – for the entire event, buffet and all. You will have to read the post to get the whole story, but it was simply the idea that such an event existed, and has existed for it to become a ritual for the couple that got me thinking that I could not be in the minority.

I cannot say that I have ever attended such an event. Unless I can find a great disguise as my profession would not allow for that public expression of my liberal views on sex, I doubt I will ever have the opportunity. With that being said, this post jump-started my desire to do more in places where I am not exposed so publicly. I already have silk sashes, leather cuffs, a riding crop, paddles and the like. I am the Dom, as I have said before, having been trained by the Marquis, but I do allow for some leeway at times. I do love a good spanking. In the end, being tied to my bed, naked, waiting for my partner to come back and fuck me is not such a bad thing.

“I like it doggie style” is what I will say next time those naive “women” whisper next to my desk. See how that suits them.

Dreams Fantasies Play Sensuals

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“Anya,” Ink & Marker on 8 1/2″ x 11″ Bristol – Andy’s Dames

I have been talking to people about bondage, sex play and sex paraphernalia. One, people are shocked that I know of such things. Apparently a professional in my field should be prudish. Two, people become embarrassed discussing what one might want to purchase in order to add some passion and fantasy into the bedroom or kitchen or parking garage elevator. Why is sex talk still so taboo? What is so awful about being sexually graphic?

Words like fuck and blow job appear to be commonplace in 21st century TV and film, so why all the hushed voices and sideways glances?

I am sitting in a cafe with some acquaintances. I have known most of them for at least fives years, but because I am a private person for the most part, all they know of me is centered around work or my pets. The conversation is tiresome, so I ask everyone what their first vibrator was. “Mine was the rabbit, ” I say. *Crickets chirping.* Then loud and nervous laughter. Then a return to mundane chatter about nothing.

I say, “I like to be tied up, spanked and fucked until I lose consciousness.” *Deafening silence. From the whole cafe, or so it seems.* My lunch companions stare at me or through me, I am not quite certain. Finally one says, “I just can’t talk about those things. Not over lunch anyways.”

When can she talk about it? I have met with these same people for dinner, drinks, festivals, art shows, and the same thing always happens when I try to turn the discussion to sex. THESE ARE GROWN WOMEN! They complain about equal rights, loss of empowerment, sexism and yet, the thought of discussing good ways to give a blow job frightens them into silence.

I cannot, in all honestly, lay all the blame at the feet of my female companions, when on many occasions, male acquaintances of ours join our night out on the town. I say, “What is your favorite why to fuck someone?” *Boisterous laughter.* No answer. I persist.

“Joe Blow, is your favorite thing to be given a blow job? Where was the strangest place you got head?” *Because I have some knowledge of Joe (hence the name I have given him here), I am fairly certain of his fantasies. He says, “I am not into the fantasy thing.” LIAR! WTF! I just played sexy teacher two weeks ago, sucking your penis until I thought you might go into a coma!

Honestly, if we cannot talk about sex then what’s the fun of “sharing stories?” I can only hear so many recollections of the days when they were wild and crazy, as if there is an expiration date on being sexually free.

It seems to me that society as a whole is missing the boat. If TV and film can continue to highlight sex, drugs and gratuitous violence – all things we flock to see on the big screen – then why can’t we simply swap tips on how to swallow semen. Seems like a reasonable request for a 21st century woman.

Fantasies Play Sensuals

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cropping-daisy-01Cropping Daisy Ducati: It’s a good thing she’s in a stout iron restraint, because I get the impression Daisy Ducati would like to take that riding crop away from him and shove it up his ass. “Stop hitting my left nipple.” bondageblog

One of my favorite and yet more provocative sites of interest, BondageBlog, offered this tasty woman and her “restraint.” It got me thinking about the many ways of being retained and what each of the elements provide to both Doms and Subs alike.

Doms want, no demand, total control and submission. Still, struggling is a turn on as well. Subs, they want to be taken, used and restrained. Whats great about this type of restraint is that it allows for “struggling and resistance” without giving an inch. It is even more exciting and sexy for both D/s.

Personally, I prefer the same type of control, but in a softer, more pliable material. Nothing like being hogtied with leather – just enough room to squirm, but not enough give to allow for escape. In fact, leather will tighten with movement and heat.

I will say that I prefer a bit gag to a ball gag. I like the ability to breathe and still be gagged. Plus the bit allows for the horse or pony fantasies. Nothing like getting it from behind – hard and fast.

Fantasies Play Sensuals

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FENNIXXX by Rafael Felix

In my “down time,” I have been reading quite a bit on long term Dom/sub relationships. While the conversation focused on masturbation as a substitute for sex between Dom and Sub (Molly’s Daily Kiss), the whole talk got me thinking about masturbation in general.

Having been raised a Catholic, a Catholic who attended Mass in Latin, every week for as long as my family lived down the street from my Puerto Rican grandparents, I always felt, well, dirty after masturbating. It never stopped me. A woman needs what she needs. Still, thinking back to my childhood or to anyone’s childhood, it seems to me that “boys” masturbating is “natural.” Girls “touching themselves” is naughty.

I guess I am simply a naughty girl.

I have items to aid in my fantasies. I am a busy woman, who does not have time to “shop around” for men. Sure, I could fuck the guy from the gym, who continues to interrupt my workouts. I could suck the guy at the coffee shop who wants to “do lunch.” Honestly, it is easier and simpler to just satisfy myself. I know what I like, how I like it and where I like it. I know how hard, how long and how much. Come to think of it, aside from an occasional hand cramp, there is less work too.

While I do enjoy the sweaty, musky, muscular body of a man or woman, if the mood suits me, I do not want to feel ashamed that I can pleasure myself and do it with enthusiasm. The world is too uptight for me sometimes. I am a product of the hippie general. I love peace and love for all. Who cares if my peace and love cums with an 8″ vibrating dildo.

Fantasies Play Sensuals

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“I’m going to fuck you so hard, sink so deep inside you, you’ll never work me out from under your skin. Never.” — Samantha Young

While I am not into cheesy sex scenes or novels akin to a Barbara Cartland romance, I love this quote by Samantha Young.

I want to be fucked that hard,again. Hard enough that it stays with you, forever. It is difficult to get amazing sex out of your head. I know even in play, I seem to return to THAT man, in THAT moment in order to orgasm. Not always, but it is handy to have such a delightful memory that it becomes so visceral, in the moment, that you orgasm simply by remembering.

I don’t want a love affair. I don’t want intimate conversations about life. I just want to be fucked, when I feel like it. What is so wrong with that? I don’t want a commitment. I want someone to lick and suck my clit until I pass out in a euphoric orgasmic wave. Is that so much to ask for?

Fantasies Play Recollections Sensuals

Comments closed“Sex” is as important as eating or drinking, and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.” —MARQUIS DE SADE, L’Histoire de Juliette

The Marquis had it right. There is no room for restraint or modesty when it comes to sex. There are, of course, one’s tastes and predilections to consider, but even then, a person should allow herself the freedom to stretch the boundaries of her own fantasies. In the world of BDSM there are precautions put into place to assure one’s safety.

Knowing that one word will stop all actions, I surrender myself to the moment, allowing my partner to tie, bite, lick and fuck me in whatever way feels right, in the moment. I cannot say that I always enjoy every second, but then again, without some trial and error, how can I possibly discover my absolute ecstasy?

I listened to a friend of mine complain about her husband being uninspired in the bedroom, when I know this is not his wish. He too has come to me, asking how to get his wife, my friend, to engage in some fantasy roleplay. I told him to simply ask her or to surprise her with an evening of intrigue and passion. He tried both. She walked away. I say she is simply afraid.

She is not afraid because she is not passionate. She is passionate. She is afraid because she cares what people think. She cares that her husband make think she is a freak. What is that Usher song lyric – a freak in the bed and lady in the street. If my friend only knew that is what men want, really, a FREAK in the bed.

I say, get freaky! Give orders, take orders, scream, bite and claw your way to orgasm. YES!

Dreams Fantasies Play Sensuals

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blog pic blindfoldedWomen I know talk about sex like it is a chore. I am not speaking of just married women either. I continue to tell them that there are many ways to find their pleasure without selling out. Being pleasured does not have to be nice or quiet or “good”. Women can ask for what they want. Women can say “tie me up, Daddy. Spank me. I’ve been bad.”

Will your man want something in return? Definitely. Do you have to obey? More than likely. Will you get off while sucking his dick? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Sex is not always about gentleness or cuddling or orgasms. Sometimes it’s simply about pure, unabridged, over the top, hot, sweaty, pleasure.

Fantasies Play Sensuals

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blog pic behindHe walks in and kisses my neck, says good afternoon, then brushes my hair aside and kisses my shoulder. His hot breath is electrifying. Then he slips off the thin strap to my silk nightie, kissing my back, shoulder to shoulder. He slides his hand around my waist and pulls me close, biting my neck ever so gently. I melt into his body. He caresses my breast, slowly moving around the nipple.

He turns me around to face him and kisses me hard. I catch my breath. I gaze into those blue penetrating eyes. I cannot look away. He lifts me up onto the counter, kissing me again, pulling me to him. I slip off his t-shirt. We kiss again, this time slowly, longingly. He moves his hands over my nipples, pinching and turning each nipple until they are purple. Explosive.

His warm lips kiss the tops of my breast. I arch my back. I cannot resist. Then I feel him pull me onto him. It is so perfect. In that moment there is nothing but us, the movement, the syncing of our existence. I pull him tight. I grab him, digging my nails into his back, biting his neck the way he likes it. I tighten my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him in, tighter. I feel his body pulse with excitement.

He lifts me up; we fall to the floor. He turns me over. Exhale.


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blog prayerI recently discovered that I may have been too uptight. Not that sex is the ONLY thing necessary in a relationship, but when that connection, that passion is missing, then the relationship becomes stagnant. There has to be a fire where the molecules break away from the skin and the mind explodes into particles that circle the very spirit. I cannot say that everyone has this electrifying moment during sex, but I do believe that total release from all that exists in the physical plane does allow for an exchange of souls – liquified and reconstructed.

I now realize that being vulnerable is not a bad thing. Feeling loved does not mean you are ‘in love.” And having a good friend as a lover is a truly great gift. You can go your entire life wearing rose-colored glasses as I have or you can cast away those limited lenses and seek out all the world has to offer. I always wanted it all and maybe now I might be able to get it – if only I learn to breathe.


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BoundIn a public life filled will hundreds of “don’ts,” it is a relief to be able to spend my private hours in the company of a man who doesn’t shy away from a little rough play. Sometimes a woman just wants to be tied up.

I am a powerful, independent, educated woman, who likes to be in charge, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy taking some orders. There is an equality that exists in purely sexual relationships. We both know what we like, know what drew us to each other, know what to touch, kiss, bite, twist and lick. The pleasure is ephemeral, but euphoric in that moment.

That moment when I am nearing unconsciousness either from pain or pleasure – not thinking about deadlines, meetings or conferences – but only living in that wet, writhing, orgasmic nothingness.


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