The Tata Top and #FreeTheNipple

the tata top

The photo above comes from The Tata Top by way of Buzzfeed.

In Ontario women did get the right to be topless in public. But, you are not likely to see any topless women this summer. It is not popular. Our culture does not really accept women’s bodies without adding sexuality. Even a photo of a Mother breastfeeding has to be edited down to make sure her breast is not exposed. Why? Because it would shock children? No. Children would be the least judgmental about seeing breasts. They won’t see breasts as sexual until we tell them too. They won’t see breasts as shocking until we tell them they are. You get the idea.

I don’t think men or women need to be topless in public. Not because women should not have the same right as men (to remove their shirt in public) but because it is nice to have some standards for a dress code in public. People used to dress up, now they usually dress down. As if every day were Casual Friday. Why not keep up some standards? If we keep lowering the standards… well, how low can you get before we lose what makes us different from the animals we hunt and keep in cages?

I believe in women having the right to be topless, as long as we hold the same standard for men. I’d rather everyone just keep their shirt on however.

standard length

What happens if you apply these same standards to men’s pants and shorts? Are men’s clothes prudish and proper just because they cover their ass? What about the younger men who wear pants hanging down their butt? I’ve yet to see them do it with short shorts.

See Free the Nipple on Twitter for more.

Retro Internet: The 1500 Point Purity Test

Long ago, in the days of the Internet surfing highway, there was a purity test with over 1000 questions. I found a copy of it. Posted for your viewing (or take the test) pleasure.

THE UNISEX PURITY TEST

If you thought the millenial purity test was bad, well you ain’t see
nuttin’ yet!

This is the 1500 point Purity Test!

We felt that the 1000 point version lost a lot of the “fun” of the
earlier versions, so we re-wrote it, adding a few new sections, and
a shitload of questions. This test is guaranteed to be nosier that
your parents, more invasive than the census, and containing something
to offend everybody.

Also included is an answer form so that you can remember where in the
test you were, or show to a friend.

Continue reading Retro Internet: The 1500 Point Purity Test

Real Women

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

What is your body for? Some people might think it’s a mode of transportation for their brain. Some people might think it’s something to be used to lure men to their doom, like the legendary sirens. Some might talk about procreation, having babies, continuing the species, all that sort of stuff. Some others might think it’s just advertising in motion.

Whatever it’s for, do you know much about how it works? How do breasts make milk for babies? Why does your vagina leak even when you aren’t having an orgasm? Why do women have hair in odd places where only men should have hair? These and other questions can be answered if you care to find out. Most young women don’t know about milk ducts, or how the vagina cleans itself by leaking mucus. They don’t know what makes a woman’s breasts start having milk. Why are they so ignorant?

I think it’s because we are so focused on making women’s bodies into sex toys that we have forgotten there is a real purpose for women being different from men. It’s not just a way to turn them on. No, Virginia, there really is a vagina, not just a pussy.

Women have babies, that’s the whole point of that period thing women get monthly. Women feed babies, that’s why we have those pair of lumps stuck to the front of us. Women give birth to babies that’s why our hips tend to be wider than men’s. No, it’s not all there to sell cars, sorry, you have been sadly misinformed.

The saddest thing of all is that so many women are getting breast implants. A breast implant turns what starts out as a natural thing into nothing but a sex toy. Once implanted with those plastic bags of goop a breast can no longer function for breast feeding a baby. Is that such a small price to pay for having the biggest hooters. Is that all there is? Is that all you want to be?

Real women have breasts, not tits. Real women have a vagina, not a love tunnel. Real women are women, not sex toys or a great marketing campaign. They might not be size 2 with a D cup bra but I can tell you one thing, real women live for themselves, they don’t wait around for some man to approve.

Pushing It

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

The fine print in the instructions had said “Never push the red button.” …But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

The fine print in the instructions had said “Never push the red button.” It had been there from day one, she noticed it while she was unwrapping her new toy. The instructions had fallen out as she unwrapped it from the bubble wrap. She had left them on the floor until she had her fill of playing and then tidied up all the packaging. She’d kept the instructions, somewhere. She hadn’t actually read them but they were around if she needed them, somewhere.

But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

What could happen, really? Her love toy was in off mode, lying on his/ it’s back on the rug by her bed. The red button was tiny, located under his left ear lobe. To push it she would need a needle from her sewing box. She had come prepared. At first nothing happened. Well, he/ it was in off mode. Maybe it only activated if the toy was on at the time. She watched awhile longer but got bored and felt sleepy and mildly disappointed in the lack of drama.

She had a great dream. Better than the dream of having sex with a dragon in mid-flight. This time her toy woke up, really woke up not just powered up as he/ it usually did. He stripped off his veneer of animation and became real. She felt his breath on her skin, as if he were really breathing rather than functioning to please her. She could smell his sweat and his passion, as if he were really aroused. She half opened her eyes as his fingers played with her pussy, stroking the lips and folds. She really, fully opened her eyes as his cock slid inside of her. It was such a great cock, the exact thickness of her specifications. The exact shape, length and fullness she had always needed from a man but never found.

The odd thing was, she was sure she was awake now and yet the dream continued. He was on top of her, riding her, caressing her inner thighs, sucking her breasts, nibbling her skin. Of course, it wasn’t possible. He was only a love toy, bought at her local department store for the off season sale price of just $199.

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing a hunk and pulling it hard. He only grinned shamelessly and bit down on her nipple. It hurt but felt good too. He opened his thighs, forcing her own legs to open wider and rise up along his warm thighs to wrap around his waist. His cock felt so good, pumping inside of her. His lips, tongue and hands took their fill of her body, teasing her, making her need more and more. Her pussy ached to orgasm. It was a great dream, but it could only be a dream.

When he grunted and orgasmed inside of her she really woke up. This could not be a dream. He wasn’t supposed to orgasm without her permission and he certainly wasn’t supposed to orgasm before she had her own pleasure.

His hard body fell over her, trapping her underneath his firm, warm flesh. His hot breath warmed the side of her neck while his cock softened, still inside her. “You pushed the red button didn’t you?” He laughed.

She said nothing. What do you say to a toy come to life?

“I’m so glad you did.” He levered himself up, reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out her favourite handcuffs. “You might regret it but I never will.”

Flirtation, Seduction and Foreplay

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

Sometimes BDSM is boring.

When you listen to yet another guy listing his fetishes, his turn ons, his kinky requirements, like a grocery list you will be expected to perform. When you read yet another erotica story starring the poor helpless man or the man who fucks everything and has a miracle magic cock that every female wants. When you read another discussion about the finer points of BDSM and the points become so refined they have lost any sharpness they may have had.

Sometimes people just think an idea to death. That’s what BDSM is, an idea. It’s not a religion, it’s just foreplay which requires a little education. It is not about pain. If you bring that idea to it then that’s what you have brought to it. It’s up to you to wonder why and decide how you want to explore that fetish.

If you explore BDSM you will discover many ideas, attitudes and philosophies. Tell them all to bite you, most of them will like that. Go with what you want and make it how you want it. BDSM is not a religion, it should actually be something more enjoyable than religion. BDSM is for pleasure, that’s all. The only rules are geared to keeping it a pleasure for both (all) involved. Religion is far more complicated than BDSM should ever be.

Some people have the attitude that anyone not involved in a 24/ 7 (round the clock, permanent) BDSM relationship is not really in the scene. Smile kindly at these people and go about enjoying your life, as you were. Would you really and truly want this to be your lifestyle, every day, year after year? Would you not at some point like a day off? Lifestyle BDSM is unrealistic.

One big myth about BDSM is that it has to involve pain. Anyone who believes that has not really examined the concept. Even the initials prove how false this idea is. Bondage and Discipline, Domination and Submission, Sadism and Masochism: do you see pain written all over that? Bondage is about being restrained, tied up, etc. Discipline is often something along the lines of spanking. Domination is about being the dominant partner or being the dominated partner, the submissive. Then there are the Switches who dominate or are dominated, as it suits them. S and M are only the tail end.

No one should hop into BDSM without some idea of what they are getting into. Take it as any other hobby, learn how to make it work, what tools (if any) you require. Make sure your partner is at least interested, if not eager. Think of the whole thing as foreplay, flirtation and seduction. If you want to add pain, bondage, or domination explore those elements.

I’ve been into BDSM since I was a kid. A lot of people will say that. I think it sounds odd. But, for me I know what I was doing and I can only wonder and image what someone else was thinking or doing. I was reading my Dad’s science fiction books and I was daring myself to look at pictures of naked men in the magazine racks at stores. I didn’t buy them, not till much later when I was 16. Naked men made me blush and yet, I really didn’t see the attraction of the male body, or parts of it. The penis looked dorky, it still does. Reading the term penis envy still makes me think men are must be pretty insecure if not unbalanced. Who would envy that? Breast envy would be more likely.

Death by Dreaming

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

Can you die from a wet dream?

Max was cold. Calling a succubus had seemed like a good idea at the time. That was hours ago now. Lying naked on the floor, his altar of sex toys around him, waiting and yet dreading that some mythological creature would come for him. He felt like a willing victim to his own sacrifice. But, he was willing, more than willing after eleven years of celibacy. Even now, just lying naked on the cold floor, his cock was rock hard, pointing straight up and even angling back. No man in the world was more ready for sex right now than Max.

Nothing seemed to be happening though, other than his own growing arousal. There was something about preparing yourself for kinky sex that made you need it all the more. Just lying down in the midst of his altar had brought him to full arousal and kept him there. Thinking, half dreaming, of having a succubus appear and begin taking his body was almost enough to finish him off. But, he wasn’t quite there. He wanted more than his own thoughts, his own hands stroking the well known patterns over his cock. He wanted a woman, even if she wasn’t entirely real or at all predictable. Continue reading Death by Dreaming

House of Music

 Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 – 2004)

The house had history, atmosphere and music. It also had a ghost.

“Every house has it’s own music, you just have to listen.”

“You’re full of it. Spouting that philosophical nonsense when we need to focus on getting out of here. What does any of that namby pamby crap matter now?”

“It matters.” Kate settled down cross-legged on the cellar floor. She ignored the cold cement, the mustiness and her husband’s temper. It wasn’t her fault the door had swung shut and stayed that way. Sure she had brought him here to explore with her but she wasn’t the one naive enough to expect every door that opened once would open again on the other side.

“Shut up, just shut up while I figure this out.” Steve seemed to always be grumpy.

The cellar was dimly lit, just the early morning light managing to filter in. But she could see with more than her eyes. The house had history, atmosphere and music.

It also had ghosts. Not the Halloween movie type ghosts. These were real ghosts. Quiet, watching and wondering who was disturbing the abandoned mansion. They were part of the music too, the history, the very wood, marble and bones of the house. It was an easy listening song but with undertones of something slightly gothic. Kate wrote gothic romances as a hobby, she understood gothic well. Or, as well as anyone could be expected to. Continue reading House of Music

Little Men Sex Robots for Women

If you look for male sex robot on Google you get a LOT of females. But, if you take the time to weed through you do find the odd male robot. Most are not what you are looking for (not if you are me).  Most male robots are military/ gamer types. Not the sort designed to play with the female body. It’s disappointing, but it does show how much sex is still slanted to men.

I thought he was headless when I first saw this image.

It bugs me how hard it is to find anything for the Dom woman. It is all set up to appeal to men. Whether it’s gay male porn, women’s porn for men (because real women don’t read that trashy jerk off stuff), lesbian women fiction and photography usually shows two women professionals and they don’t seem to have much in the way of a real connection – unless their piercings get tangled. I don’t know many women who like hard core stuff the way men do. Even the FemDom photos and fiction online are geared to the male perspective. She wears her FemDom uniform, she oversees his “service” to her yet she never actually gets anything out of it, beyond the payment due at the end of her performance.

Back to the sex robots. I think, the best I can hope for (in any kind of reality) are little robots. While the sex robots for men are full sized with breasts large enough to tip them over. The sex robots for women will be compact, something you can easily keep in your purse, your luggage if you go away for awhile. You could even stash these little guys in an empty coffee cup and walk around with it all day, no one suspecting anything.

The moral of this post is that women like sex too. We may not be as vocal about it. But, that’s because nice girls don’t talk about sex. Actually, nice girls are taught to show no sign of needing anything at all for themselves. But, that’s a lie. We have needs and wants, desires and passions and all out crazy kinks and fetishes too. I suspect we are going to have to come up with our own sex robots though.

 

Twas the Night Before Christmas – BDSM Style

D/s Christmas Poem
(author unknown)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse;
The paddles were hung in the cupboard with care,
In hopes that her bottom soon would be bare;

The children were nestled at grandma’s in bed,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her nightie, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long discipline chat,

When out of her mouth there arose such a clatter,
I sat on the bed as she sassed “Hey what’s the matter?”
I pulled her across my knee in a flash,
Pulled up her nightie to bare her cute ass.

Her bottom was white as the new-fallen snow
But would soon give way to the luster of a healthy red glow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a large wooden paddle, to redden her rear,

With long hard swings, both lively and quick,
She knew in a moment it won’t be a picnic.
In rapid succession the paddling came,
I shouted, and called out her no-nos by name;

“Now, SASSING! Now, LYING! And STAYING UP LATE!”
I paddled her hard and continued her fate.
She begged and she pleaded and I knew she would bawl!
Her bottom, her thighs I covered them all!

As I held her down tight I listened to her cry,
When the paddle met her, there were tears in her eyes,
So I spanked and I spanked and the paddle it flew,
With the lecture of love that came with it too.

The wiggling and kicking of each little foot
The paddle would soon make her little ass cook.
As I drew back the paddle, again it was sound,
Down on her bottom it came with a bound.

She was beautiful and sexy, from her head to her foot,
But her soul was all tarnished like ashes and soot;
A bundle of guilt she had on her back,
I took them away with each paddle wack.

Her eyes — how they twinkled! With tears that weren’t merry!
Her cheeks were red as roses, her thighs like a cherry!
Her beautiful hair was drawn up in a bow,
And her bottom was now not as white as the snow;

I let her get up and put the paddle on the shelf,
I kissed her and I love her more then myself;
A wink of my eye and a twist of my head,
Soon let her know it was now time for bed;

I spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
I tucked her in bed; then turned with a jerk,
And laying my finger aside of my nose,
And thinking inside, “She’s as red as a rose”;

Now discipline is not as easy as a whistle,
And it won’t go away like the down of a thistle.
Now to all of you who love spankings so dear,
“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A RED REAR!

 

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS (BDSM STYLE)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the domain,
Not a subbie was stirring, (they were tied down with chain)
The shackles were hung by the chimney with care,
And the St. Andrews cross stood empty and bare.

The subbies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of floggers danced in their heads;
The Dom in his leather, and I in my slave cap,
Had just settled down after getting our whacks.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I crept from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew very quickly.
Tripped over some handcuffs and cursed soft and thickly.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my sleep-crusted eyes should unfurl,
But a miniature sleigh, pulled by eight pony girls,

With a Dominant driver, so forbidding and stern,
I knew in a moment I’d a great deal to learn.
More rapid than eagles his pony girls came,
And he whipped them, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, dashslave! now, danceslave! now, pranceslave and switch!
On, subbie! on slavegirl! on, slavepet and bitch!
To the top of the porch! to the training room wall!
And I’ll redden your bottoms, should one of you fall!

As terrified tears before the cat-o-nine flow,
When they meet with an obstacle, gather courage and go,
So up to the house-top the pony girls flew,
With the sleigh full of sex toys, and the Dominant too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of pony girl boots.
As I drew in my head with a sense of forbode,
In through the front door the Dominant strode.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his feet,
And his clothes were all studded, leathered and neat.
A bundle of sex toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked very menacing opening his pack.

His eyes, they were hard with a definite glower
His countenance cold, and I quite felt his power.
His sternly set mouth bespoke no reprieve,
For the unlucky subbie who caused him to grieve.

The goatee he sported lent a devilish air
As did the slight spatter of gray in his hair.
He had strong pectorals and a muscular torso.
That hardened and flexed and gave force to each blow.

He was lean, stern and fit, quite the Dom of my dreams,
And I wanted to serve him, so went down on my knees.
He looked down upon me, with a turn of his head,
He made my soul tremble while my heart filled with dread;

He spoke not a word, but put me to straight to work,
He watched me in silence, idly tapping his quirt.
“Heel me,” he commanded, the lone words he would say,
And he stalked out the door as I rushed to obey.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team cracked the whip,
Pulled me ‘cross his knee, where i hung scared and limp.
And he whispered to me, “I shall teach you a lesson.
Happy Christmas, new slave; tonight we shall session.”

Christmas Gifts for your Favourite FemDom

There is something mysterious, romantic and fun about a mask. This is a nice one, but I’ve seen others I liked just as much. A mask is a good gift because it is something for her (not something for you) plus it keeps in the context of the D/s play so you can both enjoy it.

Corsets are ‘in’ now. But, this one is special because it has those romantic, luxurious ribbons in the back. There are tighter corsets that push up the breasts more and cinch in the waist more, but I’d prefer this corset with it’s great colour, far more.

Fetish Alliance – On Gifting a FemDom

Just two so far. I will post more as I find them.