Tag: Artwork

Shy Puppy

The man on the end of the leash is unsurprisingly depicted as blushing in this scene. What’s slightly stranger is that, if you look closely, the artist has also given the woman holding the leash a touch of blush. That’s an unusual slant on a public humiliation scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a situation where both the dominant and the submissive are supposed to be embarrassed about what’s going on. Is she a switch who is pulling off both roles simultaneously? If so, that’s some inception level kink.

I’m afraid I don’t have an attribution for this artwork. There’s a hint of a signature at the bottom left, but I can’t make it out.

Valentine Splat

Call me Mr. Grouchy, but I really hate Valentine’s day. If you’re in a new relationship it’s a pain to figure out what the right thing to do is. If you’re in an established relationship then it’s a fake event designed to artificially force romance. And if you’re not in a relationship, then it does nothing but make you feel bad about that fact. It’s up there with New Year’s eve as an overly hyped event that nobody enjoys as much as they think they should. Like I said – Mr Grouchy.

This image from Bakerman at least looks like a fun way to celebrate it. I’m not into sploshing or food play, but I’d happily take a cake in the face from a kinky lady over an evening jammed shoulder to shoulder in a restaurant charging twice their usual rates.

This was originally published by Bakerman for Valentine’s day in 2017.

Stinky Socks

After mentioning scentplay in my previous post, this seems an appropriate image to post as a followup. It’s tough to communicate a smell via a jpg, but I think this does a pretty good job.

It’s interesting how many kinks are associated with feet. There’s obviously your basic foot fetish, but there’s also kinks around high heels, boots, sandals, nylons and sweaty socks like this. Some foot fetishists can trace their kinks back to formative experiences as youngsters crawling or sitting near the feet of adults. Given the number of foot related kinks, it seems likely a lot of fetishists pick up their interests in similar ways, even if they can’t all remember it.

I’m think artist goes by the handle of pii (taromura). The woman’s look is a fashion trend known as Ganguro.

Cuddling on the Couch

I’m back in damp Seattle. I have a couple of fun sessions from LA to blog about, but right now I just want to unpack, collapse on the couch and catch up on my Colbert recordings.

In the meantime, I’ll keep things ticking over here with this artwork by sadisticsmilez. There’s a lot to love about this. The sense of intimacy and playfulness combined with the kink is particularly well done. My favorite part though is the nipple tweak. That’s a very sexy move, as his facial expression would tend to indicate.

The original title of the piece is ‘videogames2‘. I found it via this tweet.

Roped Captive

I enjoyed a wonderful session today with Mistress Damiana. However, I’m going to delay writing about that in detail until I’ve have a chance to edit and share the photographs we snapped.

In the meantime, given that I spent a good portion of our session today in bondage, I’ll share this artwork by bondlicitous. It’s called ‘Connection‘, which is very much a thing I look for when I’m being tied up. There’s a touch of the fairy tale about the drawing. I’m imaging that it’s the heroic prince that has been bound in place and the fair heroine, having been through a rather torrid time, is expressing her displeasure with his performance to date.

You can see more from bondlicitous at his DeviantArt and Twitter. I found this via a tweet by maid marta.

Scene Stealer

I’ll finish this nostalgic review of my last decade of kink with the story of the strangest thing that happened to me in a session – the time I did someone else’s scene.

I’m not going to reveal who the domme was. I’ll just say that this wasn’t my first session with her and this was some years ago. Our pre-scene negotiation over email had been, as is usual for me, pretty short and simple. I don’t remember my exact words but the gist was that medical play with staples and needles might be fun. What unfolded during the session itself was a little different.

In hindsight, putting all the pieces together, it was fairly obvious what went wrong. Before I arrived the domme had opened her email folder and clicked on someone else’s session request. I obviously never got to read the original email, but based on what transpired, I’m guessing it went something like this:

“I love lots of bondage with straps and rope, particularly if you keep adjusting and tweaking it, as though you can’t quite find the perfect way to hold me. I want a heavy caning and I think it’s really sexy if the domme is very vocal about how excited and aroused she is by the marks she’s leaving. Oh, and I’ve got a thing for hair, so if you could work that in somehow that’d be great. Thanks!”

Given this email slip-up, there was obviously a fairly significance gulf between  between what I was expecting and what I was about to receive.

The first thing that struck me as weird as we started the session was that the domme seemed to have developed an OCD issue with bondage. I couldn’t figured out why she kept screwing around with it. She’d mutter about needing to get it exactly right, I’d carefully suggest that it was actually fine, and she’d still keep reworking it. Then there was all the sexy moaning and dirty talk to go along with the canes she was wielding. We’d done corporal play before, and I didn’t remember my ‘hot as fuck’ marks having quite this effect on her. Finally, why did she keep touching her hair onto my back and butt? I mean I like hair, I think it can be very sexy, but it seemed an odd thing to intersperse between cane strikes.

My initial assumption was that this was just an unusual warm-up to our medical scene, but as the time ticked past the halfway mark, it was obvious something had gone awry. Should I stop it? Given we were already over an hour in, it seemed awkward to do so. Plus, I was feeling pretty buzzed from the endorphins and she seemed to in the zone and having fun with it. I figured it was easier to roll with it and I’d only yell stop if things got a little crazy. I wasn’t about to get fisted or vomited on for the sake of avoiding awkwardness. Fortunately it turned out that my unknown scene choreographer hadn’t put in a request for a spectacular finale.

The post-scene discussion – after I mentioned what I thought had happened – was an amusing one. The domme was torn between apologizing for the mistake and expressing incredulity that I hadn’t said anything. My answer of ‘well, you seemed really into it…’ got a laugh and the response that my bruised butt was therefore my own fault.

I did wonder what happened later, when she did the scene again with the original client. Did she tell him? Or did he just get a really awesome version thanks to the  dress rehearsal I’d filled in for?

I think this is technically a birching rather than a caning, but this artwork by Jay Em still feels appropriate for the post.

Popping My Cherries

Writing about my decade in kink got me thinking about my kinky firsts over that time. Given I started out as a total kink virgin there have been quite a few. What surprises me in retrospect is how few cherries I actual remember being popped. I don’t remember who gave me my first golden shower or when I received my first pegging. I do remember my first caning – because it was session #1 – but I don’t remember my first paddling, whipping or flogging. I’m going to hope that this is due to the varied kinky life I’ve subsequently led, rather than old age or alcohol induced amnesia creeping up on me. Some new experiences have stayed with me however.

The first piercing. I almost fainted. A short lie down and drink of water was required to recover. Fortunately we persevered and it became one of my favorite activities.

First time in a cage. Made me so relaxed I almost fell asleep. All the reassurance and comfort some people find in bondage, without the discomfort that often comes with lengthy bondage scenes.

My first rope suspension. I had a vision of it being the erotic pleasure of bondage crossed with the fun of a child’s swing. In reality it was more like construction work crossed with roleplaying a side of beef. Rope suspension is tricky, particularly when you’re a somewhat out of shape middle age guy and not a lithe, young and light bondage model.

My first session injury. A chemical scene in 2011 where I triggered back issues that plague me to this day. Admittedly, I’m sure the source of the issues was decades of bad posture hunched over keyboards. The muscle clenching in the session just happened to be the straw that broke paltego’s back.

The first time a domme pulled out a gasmask for me.  My initial thought was – ‘Wow. I’m going to look like a seriously kinky freak. This is some top level pervert stuff we’re into here.’

First time I kissed a domme in a session. A very rare event but it has happened once or twice. Okay. Once. The domme had brought a fancy electrical accessory that made her whole body charged and capable of shocking me. We were having a lot of fun with it and she wanted to see what it’d be like if we kissed and touched tongues. I think I was more nervous doing that than I was when she was sticking needles into my dick.

I’ll finish with an image of a cherry I’ve yet to pop. ‘Forced Bi’ joins cuckolding and cross dressing as activities that have yet to make it into my sessions. I guess you always want to save something for the second decade.

The artwork is by the always amazing Sardax.

Communication Breakdown

The wider acceptance of kink and the corresponding uptick in mainstream articles on it is a good thing. Less stigma is good. More people open to indulging in kink is good. Unfortunately the quality of the mainstream articles is somewhat erratic. For example, take this recent Cosmo one on Cuckolding. It’s not terrible, and it’s certainly positive on the kink. In fact that’s actually kind of the problem. It’s possible to be too positive.

Cuckolding is a great way of strengthening communication in a relationship, as it requires honesty from both partners about what they enjoy, what they don’t and what their boundaries are if they do feel jealous or uncomfortable.

It’s certainly true that cuckolding requires good communication. However, this makes it sound like cuckolding would be a good option to improve communication in a relationship that has a problem with it. I’m not a therapist, but I’m fairly sure that first step in strengthening  communication with your partner isn’t sleeping with other people.

This reminds me of people who think that the solution to a rocky relationship is to have a child. Because when two people are stressed and unhappy, the obvious answer is to add a small screaming person who’ll dominate their lives for the next 18 years. I’ve known two couples like that and it worked out about as well as you might expect. I’m guessing that cuckolding, like having children, is a good way to make a great thing better and a bad thing even worse.

I’m not sure of the background to this image, or who the artist is, but it definitely has a strong cuckolding vibe to it. If anyone can help me attribute it, then please leave me a comment.

Strange Comfort

I’ve been in a bondage frame of mind recently. I think it’s the cold weather. There’s something comforting and relaxing about certain types of bondage. Almost like being gently hugged. That sense of relaxing into an embrace, with no further thought being necessary. Some people like to avoid the chill by cuddling in front of a roaring fire. Others tilt towards layers of rope, tight leather straps and isolation hoods. I think my dream scenario would be to combine the two, with heavy bondage and cuddling in front of a roaring fire. I really need to make that happen someday.

This image is by the artist Harry B, sourced via this tweet.

Warning Signs

Apologies for the lack of an update yesterday. This was due to me being collapsed on my couch in a post session haze of endorphins. I had my first session of 2020 yesterday, and Savannah Sly made it a highly memorable one. 

There are two key warning signs that something particularly painful is about to happen when playing. The first is if the domme briefly disappears to find a specific toy and reemerges with a particularly gleeful expression. Whatever she has found will not go well for you. The second sign is if she starts to do something, then pauses, and decides she needs to muffle your moans before proceeding. She might be concerned about the neighbors, but you should be more concerned with what’s about to happen to your delicate parts.

In the case of our session yesterday, the toy in question was Savannah’s medical stapler and (equally important) the staple removal tool. The muffling was required when she decided to apply it to the tip of the cock. Right over the urethral opening. Ouchy.

Here’s a different medical scene showing one of the more fun ways to muffle a patient’s screams. This is of course by the artist Rubex.