Friday, April 29, 2016

Blast from the Fetish Video Past

The things you rediscover while packing for a move...

Though some may not believe it, there was actually a time before easily streamable and downloadable MP4 fetish video clips. And even before those compact (and easily hidden) DVDs. In those days, fetish films came in a bulky plastic cassette filled with a near-endless ribbon of tape—which of course regularly caught in the machine that played it and then unwound into its own predicament-bondage-worthy mess you spent the next half-hour untangling.

That was if you could find them, of course. It was a happy fetish day when my local video-rental store (those were once a thing, too) installed a giant porn section, with an extensive fetish subsection, behind that curtain in the back. But I lived in a major city at the time. And even there, before then, I could only find these videos in an adult bookstore. But they were for sale, not rental. And the store itself was more than a little creepy. We weren’t talking today’s clean and bright Pleasure Chest back then.

So instead of a website, you would send away for a printed catalog, which was like a website but on paper. That could be a jam-packed, small-print, four-color extravaganza of a large newsletter for IBN, or a black-and-white booklet for Nu-West/Leda, or just a xeroxed page listing titles and prices for a certain Pro-Domme who made her own (and whose name I unfortunately no longer remember).

Videotape was the future back then. And the idea of being able to see moving images of a Domme taking it out on a sub, in my own apartment, and on my own TV, and anytime I wanted, was a Really Big ThingTM. Because sometimes you just didn’t want to haul out the Super 8 film projector, and try to remember where you’d hidden those films so that they didn’t get mixed in with the home movies, and then set up that special screen that always seemed to tip over in the process and scare the dog.

Those were the days. Sort of.

And yet those tapes had something the Internet clips today lack. It often took serious work and effort to even find them, let alone buy them. They weren’t just material for an otherwise frustrating evening home alone, with another clip (or ten) that might be an even more specific fit just a click away. They were treasures, even those that turned out to be near-misses for your kink buttons. Because in a small, hard-won library, every title has value.

So when these tapes turned up again, I felt a real thrill, and one much greater than when I now sometimes rediscover a clip on a hard drive that I’d somehow forgotten I had. Because finding these reminded me of just how good we kinksters have it today, but also how what little we once had sometimes meant so much more.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

The Sign of a Very Good Time

I know what you’re thinking. How do a Star Trek nightshirt and a hairbrush go together?

It just kind of happened, that particular night.

My wife and I do have a long-running role play set in the Evil Mirror Universe of the original Star Trek series, though. That particular series of scenes has literally spanned years, with a cast of characters, shifting alliances, and repeated betrayals that eventually grew so large and convoluted we could barely keep it all straight and, like the films, had to reboot the entire franchise. (Which we accomplished with far fewer plot holes than J.J. Abrams, thank you very much.)

What probably should have happened this particular night was that my wife’s Lt. T’lorr (a Vulcan, complete with ears, because we really are that nerdy) indulges her anthropological as well as archaeological passion for the precursors of the dreaded Agonizer. And my unnamed, newly assigned ensign finds himself “volunteered” as the experimental subject on which to test the effectiveness of various relevant artifacts in her rather extensive collection.

Her hairbrush would not survive. And neither would my unnamed ensign. Probably.

Crew turnover is a bitch on the I.S.S. Kinksterprise...

Friday, April 22, 2016

The Contract We Didn’t Sign

Whenever work, stress, deadlines, and just life in general become overwhelming, my mind and body react in one of two ways. Either my libido—and my kinkiness—go into absolute hibernation, or they go into serious overdrive.

Last fall, they went into overdrive.

Blame it on overlapping work deadlines, getting a mortgage, closing on a house, and then getting that house ready for us to move into. For months on end, free moments were few and far between, and what free moments my wife had rarely coincided with my own. We tried (and tried), but we also failed more often than we succeeded. And while I may be a fan of tease and denial, I want my wife to be responsible for it, not late-paying clients and our mortgage lender.

The new house also held the promise of finally getting away from having neighbors beneath as well as beside us, with thin walls and sound-leaking floors in between. That only probably would have been enough to kick in the overdrive, especially after a decade of amorous and/or kink-charged moments being interrupted by the Neighbor of the Moment’s Loud Toddler of the Moment.

So I started writing a contract, here and there, if just to give my kink some outlet. Given that it was my first ever attempt at a contract and my kink capacitor felt like it was about to overheat and catch fire like a Boeing Dreamliner’s battery, I went a little berserk right from the start:

     By this agreement, entered into freely by both parties, ___________ (hereafter referred to as “OWNER”) takes physical and sexual ownership of ___________ (hereafter referred to as “PROPERTY”) for the period from ___________, 20___, to _________, 20___, with rights, responsibilities, and restrictions as detailed below:


     1. OWNER has exclusive rights to, control of, and authority over PROPERTY’s physical body and related aspects thereof, including, but not limited to, clothing, state of dress or undress, hair, location and restrictions thereon, restraint or freedom, chores, marks and other symbols of ownership, and speech.

     2. OWNER has exclusive rights to, control of, and authority over PROPERTY’s sexuality and all related aspects thereof, including, but not limited to, choice of all sensual and sexual acts, location of all sensual and sexual acts, duration of all sensual and sexual acts, role plays, masturbation, and orgasms.)

Multiple additional sections and much verbiage followed, but you get the point. In my defense, writing this Apple Terms and Conditions-like monstrosity (and Twitter) was the only real kink outlet I had the time. Overly legalistic and just plain wordy, it still helped keep me sane during that period. And even then, after I’d reached five extremely dense, single-spaced pages, even I gave up on it.

Fortunately, this contract was never meant to be signed. It was a stress release, a safety valve, and on that score, it did the job. Utter personal fantasy, it was never even intended to be shown to my wife, which is good. I don’t think I could find a better example of trying to lock one person into someone else’s fighteningly specific kink buttons—especially the in parts not reproduced here—as this thing. She wouldn’t have run screaming from the room, but she would have given me that look, and any chance of what we have now would have been shredded along with the paper this contract was printed on.

Like a lot of “first drafts,” though, it taught me what not to do. And that was valuable experience for writing a contract that might actually stand the test of reality and two sets of expectations as well as boundaries—in other words, the one we actually did sign, just a few weeks ago.

Thank God I let myself go a little crazy back then, or I might have really screwed up the real thing, when the opportunity for it actually came.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

The Current Terms of Our Marriage

How to write a contract for a non-24/7 yet 24/7, sort-of Female-Led Relationship? How do you make sure both people get what they need, but in a way that avoids undue pressure on either one to live up to an extended list of minor details and specific instructions and also preserves the vanilla side of a rather complex, 15-year relationship? And more than anything, how do you allow room for your wife to put her own stamp on things, and run it all at the pace she feels comfortable with, when you’ve thought and fantasized about just this for so very, very long?

That was my dilemma not so many weeks ago. And this is what we signed...


     Recognizing that each party has specific needs that must be met in order to feel secure and attached in the relationship overall, and that these needs should be met in ways that both parties are comfortable with, Diane Kepler and Declan Heyse agree to the following:

A. Declan:

     1. ACCEPTS that Diane needs a dependable, solid, and reliable partner she can lean on in order to feel secure and attached in the relationship as a whole and fully herself, and WILL strive to provide that.

     2. WILL remain a husband, NOT a slave, in all areas of the relationship beyond this agreement.

     3. WILL NOT “top from the bottom,” but WILL ask for what he wants.

     4. WILL NOT orgasm, for any reason, at any time, without explicit permission from Diane.

     5. WILL immediately confess any orgasm experienced, for any reason, without Diane’s permission.

     6. UNDERSTANDS and ACCEPTS that abuse of authority may occur.

     7. MAY NOT terminate this agreement.

B. Diane:

     1. ACCEPTS that Declan needs a partner who is sexually controlling, selfish, and at times even cruel in order to feel secure and attached in the relationship as a whole and fully himself, and WILL strive to provide that.

     2. WILL remain a wife, NOT an owner, in all areas of the relationship beyond this agreement.

     3. MAY, but is NOT obligated to, overtly enforce the provisions of this agreement in whatever manner she chooses.

     4. WILL limit the number of orgasms Declan experiences, and MAY, but is NOT obligated to, require that his orgasm be achieved in a specific manner.

     5. WILL punish, in whatever manner she chooses, any orgasm that Declan experiences, for any reason, without permission.

     6. MAY, but is NOT obligated to, impose any specific conditions or requirements she chooses in order for permission to be granted.

     7. MAY terminate this agreement at any time, but also UNDERSTANDS and ACCEPTS that an adjustment period may be necessary.

C. Agreed to:

Diane Kepler
Declan Heyse

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Fetish Rewrite VI

“It stays on until I unlock it, Bertie. You’re with a modern woman now. And Mr. Spratt says the chafing should go away on its own in a few days anyway...”

Monday, April 18, 2016

Elust #81

Hyacinth foe Elust 81
Photo courtesy of A Dissolute Life Means

Welcome to Elust #81 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #82 Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Who Are You Calling Crazy Cat Lady?

Stranger on a Train

Taking Emilia

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The Sign
Everyday sexism

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

The Best Sex
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Fiction

Johnny on the Spot
Caught Watching
A is for the ache I feel...
OVER THE EDGE - but softly
This is Love

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

The NiteFlirt-Twitter Findom-Shout Complex
Donald Trump: Feminist

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Do What You Want
Setting expectations
Held Captive

Erotic Non-Fiction

My Rope Life Rebooted
I Needed my Fix
Beautiful, Loving, Surprise Birthday Blowjob!
Mind and Body
Bukkake, Babe, that's me! Or is it?
Jun 2014 Session - Mistress Claire & Robynn
Don’t Just Fuck Her!
Mid Week Fantasizing -- The 3some
I told him I'm Hy.

Writing About Writing

Captive Audience: Dubious Consent Fantasy


He is Risen! A Lusty Limerick
Thin - an erotic poem


The illusion of familiarity...

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Be A Better Lover
Who Owns My Sexual Agency?

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Boobs on my Mind
ELust Site Badge

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Meta Femdom, With Beer

How many layers of Femdom goodness did a single beer produce during a quick dinner out?

1) The beer was named, of course, Total Domination.

2) My wife made me buy it instead of the one I’d had my eye on.

3) My wife made me pose for a photo with it. Several times.

4) My wife made me drink it rather than the one I’d had my eye on.

5) My wife eventually took it away from me and had me drink her beer instead.

6) The replacement beer my wife made me drink was named, of course, Helles Belles Lager.

She’s so good to me...

Monday, April 11, 2016

Fetish Rewrite V

“Relax. Our daughter has no idea her parents are actually kinky role-playing swingers. I told her we were Russian spies instead...”

Friday, April 8, 2016

10 Kink Facts About Me

1. For the last few weeks, my wife and I have been in a non-24/7 yet 24/7, sort-of Female-Led Relationship. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around how all this finally came to pass, and every attempt to blog about it so far has been rambling, overlong, and unreadable. (I’ll keep trying.)

2. A few years ago, my wife and I were in a non-24/7 yet 24/7 Maledom relationship. It started out well, for both of us, but the boundaries between our kink and vanilla lives eventually got blurred. Neither of us wanted that, but it was valuable experience for what we’re trying to be now.

3. My wife and I met via Seriously. We did.

4. I once lived directly across the street from a professional dungeon. It was the greatest apartment ever.

5. With a few exceptions, I prefer the older Men in Pain to the newer Divine Bitches videos. But then I can still remember when actual VHS videocassettes were the future.

6. Tickling is my hardest of hard limits. Really. Tickle me intentionally, and I will end you.

7. I have a serious bridal gown fetish. Ironically, my wife wore pants to our own wedding.

8. Boots on a woman make me weak in more than just the knees, but those monstrous platform ones just kill the kink mood for me. I should be worrying about what she’s going do to me, but instead, I’m just waiting for her to lose balance and topple over, seriously injuring us both.

9. Whenever a new Fin-Domme I’ve never heard follows me on Twitter, my reaction is almost always “My God, I have nieces older than her!”

10. Unlike my wife, I never played in public until my (very) late 40s. She waited more than 10 years for me to be ready. I am a lucky man.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

“In the Navy”

Marlene Dietrich. In a uniform. How could a kinkster possibly go wrong?

What, you were expecting the Village People?

(H/T: Mrs. Weltsova)

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Formative Kink: The Wilson Sisters

Since my earliest days, I’ve been a fan of Ann and Nancy Wilson, otherwise known as Heart. Admittedly, I still much prefer their original incarnation in the 1970s and early 1980s, before their second wave of success as an overproduced, Power Ballad-ish hit machine.

Partly, that’s because I actually prefer the earlier music. And partly, that’s because I’d discovered enough of my kink side by the late 1970s that the Wilson Sisters fit right in.

Those early album covers might not have been especially kinky in and of themselves, but the things my puberty-addled mind pictured the Wilsons doing to me in that wagon certainly were. Not to mention they both looked amazing in stripes.

It all really kicked into gear for me when Heart played my hometown while on tour for Bebe Le Strange, an album that practically lived on my turntable. Our rag of a local newspaper printed a publicity photo of the band that included Ann in a certain leather outfit. Everything below the hips had been cropped out, of course, but I knew, with that fierce early teenage certainty, that Ann Wilson was wearing a catsuit. Or some kind of full-body leather outfit, something close enough to make no difference, at least to me. My young, hormone-soaked mind allowed no other possibility. And from that moment on, Heart and kink were intertwined for me. Especially given the you-are-so-going-to-get-it glower from Nancy in that same photo.

I was too young (to be allowed) to go to that concert, unfortunately. Even if I hadn’t been, my Hal Lindsey-believing, 700 Club-watching grandmother would have made my divorced single mother’s life (and, by extension, mine) miserable if I had. So, all fantasies were instead fueled by photographs, album covers, and the occasional music video or TV appearance. Those were more than enough, though.

Just as a person’s kinks can be bound up and entangled in other things, so was my formative kink of Heart, and of Ann Wilson in particular. Ann was essentially my first celebrity crush, and I crushed hard. She was also my first fantasy girlfriend, and those daydreams were where I first began considering the idea of kink not just as a fantasy scene but also as part of a relationship—an unrealistic, hopeless, age-inappropriate relationship to be sure, but at least Ann and her sister were on the same planet I was, unlike those Prison Moon Amazons on Space: 1999. So that definitely counted as progress in in my book.

My Ann Wilson crush also led me to realize that kink, especially Femdom, didn’t have to be all leather and bondage. Those daydreams were also the time I started to understand that mood, attitude, tone of voice, and just sheer presence could have every bit the same effect. Yes, some of those came out of my own head and already-existing subconscious brew of other formative kinks, but her stage presence gave me a lot of raw material to work with as well.

Admit it. You were expecting Barracuda,” weren’t you?

Heart has also been an example of how a kink charge can change over time, especially when you follow a career literally for decades. The kink side of Heart’s appeal definitely dipped for me during their second, even more successful incarnation. Partly, it was because that 1980s Goth Baroque Hairspray with a Shade of Miami Vice-ish look didn’t really appeal to me even then. And partly, it was because I’d matured (stop laughing) enough to feel some real sympathy that the Wilson Sisters, despite all their talent, were being put in music videos that did anything and everything, to the point of actually squeezing the video frame, to hide Ann’s now-heavier body. Or that showed Nancy emerging like some Rock’n’Roll Terminator Aphrodite out of an industrial mold filled with liquid gold while Ann appears from behind a welder’s mask. Seriously. Or that only showed Ann from the shoulders up or in full-band shots from a distance while lingering on full-body shots of a very bouncy Nancy, and to the point where even I started feeling uncomfortable. Objects of previous kink fantasies or not, they deserved far better than all of this.

First crushes never last, of course. Not even kink crushes. But sometimes you stay friends—or fans. And I am still a fan. Even without the blockbuster sales or the sometimes-stealthy kink charge of decades ago, the occasional albums Heart still puts out, like Fanatic or Jupiters Darling, are flat-out winners. Ann Wilson still has one of the finest voices around—at 65—and can put damn near any of today's younger singers to shame. And Nancy Wilson’s Live at McCabe’s Guitar Shop continues finding its way into my CD player on a regular basis. I would go see either one (though preferably both) of them in a second, if they ever play my town again.

And I still have those formative kink memories, which helped mold the kinkster of a certain age I am today.

Friday, April 1, 2016

Fetish Rewrite IV

“Did I laugh during your role play? No, I did not. So get a grip, my love, or you’ll be spending tonight on the couch instead of in my dungeon.”