a little skin for Christmas

You know, I swore this year I wouldn’t bugger around with trying to find holiday items to link to; I did enough of that last year.

But I just ran across this blog tonight, featuring links and sexy Christmas photos, and had to share:

Also, Eden has added a Holiday category to both her R-rated and explicit photo galleries, including two in the R-rated of Carmen Electra that were just sizzling, and made me think twice about this whole never-trying-women-again policy of mine. 😉

Really great stuff. And saves me from having to find sexy links of my own this year. If you’re the type who likes to combine their tinsel with their lube (cranberry flavored? I’ve heard of stranger things) then check these two links out, and happy holidays to all.

bdsm in the movies

There are so few good movies out there that explore power exchange. BDSM porn is useless to me, in most cases, since it’s incredibly contrived and the actors so rarely enjoy their roles or the activities they’re performing. What’s more, the eroticism just isn’t there in most cases. And for me, BDSM is about eroticism. Power exchange isn’t matter of fact: it’s erotic. Devastatingly so. I crave the ability to see that on screen.

Which leaves me to look to mainstream movies to get my power exchange fix. And while there aren’t a lot of them, there are a few. My favorites include:

Secretary – well, now, that’s just obvious, isn’t it? But it’s still very erotic. Took me several watchings to get over my anger at the filmmakers for taking to extremes what could have been a lovely basic story that reflects many BDSMers initial inner conflicts, but I still identify with the girl at crucially erotic moments, discovering how much she likes to be spanked, how his very reticence enthralls her…

Swept Away – I understand that this is a remake, and also tanked at every box office in the world, but there are parts of it I enjoy. While some of the message is a little bolloxed up, the one theme – with submission to someone stronger, you find your own strength – is one I identify with. And frankly, Adriano Giannini is just hot.

Body of Evidence – Well, yeah, I know, again the movie is not the best in the world, but William Dafoe and Madonna are an interesting mix onscreen. I love her power and her strength in the “love” scenes. Plus, really, I just think Madonna’s hot. Must be leftover from my material girl days. Wait. Are those days over yet? 🙂

Basic Instinct – For all its shortcomings, I still find these scenes very sexy. It is the mindfuck in this film that gets to me on a BDSM level. While they don’t state it outright, it’s pretty clear that Sharon Stone’s character has a pretty thorough understanding of power play. And she uses is to toe-curling advantage. Particularly the teasing scenes in the club, and well, anything with white silk scarves is OK by me, minus the ice pick of course.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer – The episode in Season 6 (I can’t remember the name of it right now, darnit) where Spike lightly “doms” Buffy up on the balcony of The Bronze. Solid gold. That scene turns me on so much I’m liable to jump the nearest person while watching it. Thank goodness they never show that episode in public anywhere. Who knows what I’d do?

Queer as Folk – Many episodes feature the concepts of power exchange, and Brian is just plain dommy. Or is that yummy? Deliciously erotic gay sex throughout.

Wild Orchid – Now this is another basically lame movie, BUT: Mickey Rourke is unbelivably dommy in the film, though without the usual trappings. He’s definitely at the top of the power exchange. When he sends her up to have sex with the stranger, and she clings to the bars in the window, looking down at him… damn. Hot hot hot.

I know there are more. Sexuality.org lists Mainstream Films featuring BDSM Practices, which in my book is NOT the same thing, as many of these are torture/rape/death scenes and not sexy at all. But it’s a start.

Anyone know of other movies I should try?

blogging with an audience

This sure is a strange and digital world we all live in.

I had a number of lovers before my first husband, but that was back in the BC days (before computers – at least, for me), so for the most part I’ve never seen nor heard from them ever again.

Not so with the new digital age. By the time I left my husband, I had started on the fledgling site that would become Herdesires. I didn’t think much of sharing the URL with friends and particularly new lovers, which meant that over time there were a number of men from my past or present who knew of the web site.

I occasionally find myself wondering, particularly when telling stories from my past, if there are any exes who still read this darn thing. Not sure I really want to know – it might inhibit my storytelling. Plus, not all of the endings were pleasant, you know?

But most of all, I wonder when comments are posted anonymously to my stories. There have been dozens of them over the years that have set me to wondering – was that him? Or him? Or him? I’ll never know, but this is the kind of idle speculation I allow myself to indulge in rather than, say, watching reality television. [shudder]

For the most part, though, I write what I like and the audience be hanged. Some topics may give me a moment’s pause, but in the end, they’re my stories to tell, my thoughts to share, my explorations to cover. I don’t use names (other than the occasional nicknames – The Muse, HWTMF, The Boy) so I figure it’s all pretty harmless.

It is a little surreal, though. Kind of like public exhibitionism with a big white light in your face so you can’t really tell who’s in the audience – anyone you know might be out there. Or it might just be an empty room.

Cool little digital world we’ve built for ourselves, isn’t it?

sugar walls

No, silly, not what you think. However, I have recently been found fantasizing about walls.

Er. Let me explain.

Walls are just hot. Push me up against them and I switch into subbie, wet, horny mode almost immediately. Shove your cock against me, and it’s even better. It’s dramatic without the over-violence, it’s cliched but still damned hot, and it also gives support for rubbery knees without needing to sit or lay down. (My knees have a nasty tendency to go on me when I’m being touched just right.)

Doesn’t even matter if I’m facing the wall, or have my back to it. There are benefits to both.

Back to the wall: All my sensitive bits, with the exception of my neck, are available for easy access. The pressure against my back is hot. Not as hot as another man (yes, I still have dreams of being a Vikki sandwich one day…) but hot, solid, giving me nowhere to move. Bonus point for pulling my hands to either side of my head and pinning me there. Whew. Warm in here, or is it me?

Front to the wall: I can’t see his hands as easily, kind of like being blindfolded without the smeared eyeliner. He can touch me any darned way he likes, shove my legs apart, tease me from behind, and my ass fits into his crotch in a rather lovely way. Spankings also are quite lovely in this position, allowing me to crowd the nice cool wall in contrast to my burning tush. If the height thing is right, he can even flip up my skirt and take me from behind. Yummm. Bonus points also for pinning my hands to the wall in this position. Who needs rope? We’ve got a wall…

I have a long elevator ride to get to my apartment. Well, long enough, at least, since I’m nearly 30 stories off the ground. And there’s nothing sexier, in the whole entire world, than getting shoved against the wall of the elevator, trapped within a man’s arms, and kissed and fondled for the duration of the ride.

However, it’s not just about the public walls, really – although I will admit a passing fancy for alleyway walls, subway walls (!), and other public place walls (the staircase down the hall – I always did want to give that a try…). The walls in my wee apartment work very well. My hallway, my bedroom, my dining room… the little nook around the bedrooms…

Oh, my. My imagination’s just running overtime today!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some pressing needs to attend to. 🙂


Whether you’re just nudging around the edges of kinky play or delving deeply into a BDSM-centered relationship, limits are something you have to think about, and discuss. What your personal limits are. What their personal limits are. And so on.

But there’s another limit that I hadn’t really touched on until recently in my own play. And that’s the limit of misbehaving.

It’s kind of like kids (not that I have any experience in parenting to draw on here). Kids push limits all the time. If for no other reason than to know where the limits are, and what the consequences are should they step over those limits.

BDSM can really be quite similar to that; however, I hadn’t ever really pushed limits with any of my former lovers. Though there is a great big brat inside of me who just loves to say “no”, I had never really given that brat room to move until recently.

Part of the reason for holding back was fear: fear that my lovers wouldn’t like my bratty side, fear that it would turn them off. But the biggest fear of all was worrying that they didn’t have a limit. That they might say “Do this, or else” but when push came to shove, they wouldn’t follow through, they would soften up, they wouldn’t be hard on me because they didn’t want to be mean, didn’t want to hurt me, didn’t want to punish me, whatever.

I kept myself from pushing those boundaries not because I was afraid of the consequences but because I was afraid there wouldn’t be any. The last thing a subbie wants to do is lose respect for the man who is domming her; at least, that’s how it has always worked for me. And the easiest and quickest way to lose my respect is to not actually mean what you say. (Actually, that works both inside and outside of the bedroom.)

Respect is a HUGE part of my willingness to submit; without it, it’s difficult for me to give up all the natural assertiveness I walk around with every day. No matter how much I might want to, I cannot put myself in someone else’s care unless I know and trust that they can handle me, themselves, and whatever else comes up along the way.

But recently, I’ve started allowing my inner brat some movement in play. I let her say no, I let her whine, I let her squirm and wriggle and try to get away. In my mind, though, there was always this unanswered question: what happens if I push too far?

Honestly, I was terrified to find out. Not terrified that I’d be beaten to a bloody pulp or anything like that. Terrified that I would be able to keep pushing. Pushing and pushing with no resistance. I can’t think of anything I’d hate more.

You see, I like the boundaries. I like being reminded who is in charge. I like being allowed some room for movement, of course (well, except when bound *wink*) but in the end I want (and more importantly NEED) a firm hand on my shoulders, steadying me, guiding me, teasing me, helping me to be the deliciously naughty sexual woman I delight in being.

Recently during play, I was in one heck of a bad mood that had nothing to do with the situation and everything to do with the other crap that crowds in from time to time. And my inner brat was screaming to be let out. I was just mad enough to let her go where she wished, which meant pushing one hell of a lot of limits and buttons. I regret that I didn’t just stop the play right then but I am fervently glad for what resulted.

I found there were limits. I got warned with a “1”, and then a “2”, but unlike every other time, I just kept pushing. And when “3” was reached, I hit the brick wall of my partner’s resistance and found there were consequences for my actions.

I didn’t enjoy the punishment. But it was temporary, and the long-term lesson I learned was not.

There are limits. There are boundaries for my behavior. And if I step over them, there are consequences.

And I just couldn’t be happier about that.