Sabrina in Stockings

The writer behind spankingresource.com posted a flash fiction challenge via Twitter and I couldn’t resist participating. The rules were as follows: 250 words, spanking-oriented, must contain the wild cards “willow green,” “loose thread,” and “hairbrush.” The below scene immediately came to mind. Normally I tease more when I spank, but this is a punishment scene after all.

I could see her shadow on the other side of the folding screen, a moving sculpture of feminine grace with her round hips and shapely legs. My handmaiden.

She draped a pair of filmy stockings over the screen. I snugged my basque up against my body and exhaled. “Willow. Come cinch me up, dear.”

She tugged the ribbon – I breathed in, exhaled to feel the basque compressing my form. Yes. My girl knelt before me to smooth each stocking free of wrinkles. She tugged on her white satin gloves – and I saw the loose thread.

The slap was automatic; I didn’t feel it, only saw her recoil with shock and shame in her wide green eyes.

“Girl. Your dress is out of place. Your gloves-!”

She flushed. “Ma’am, I- I-”

“Willow Green. Fetch me the hairbrush.”

Her lips parted, then closed. She obeyed.

The sway of her ass kindled my hunger. She knelt before me, the boar-bristle hairbrush face-up in her hands. I pulled her to her feet and bent her over my knees. It took one arm to pin her across my lap – she was all rustling petticoats and squirming curves, my girl, with those long legs kicking out. I slid my dark-gloved hand beneath her skirts, exposing the undercurve of her plump ass.

The first strikes fell on her thighs, reddening them, taunting her. Sharp and swift where she could take the least. Crack. Wood met flesh, and flesh yielded.

I spanked her bare ass and she squealed.

Updated! Read the other participants’ 250 word story entries:

Naughty Abby
Casey Morgan (no relation, alas)
The Spanking Resource

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I was feeling very wicked this morning and decided to share. I’ve just recorded and uploaded a new erotic audio mp3 for all my submissive cuckolds, beta husbands and wimpy boyfriends.

NEW! Cuckold Voice Mail mp3 – The long-awaited recording mentioned in my dominant girlfriend love letter. I left you a voicemail, letting you know I won’t be home tonight… and explaining our new arrangement. 5 minutes of sweet erotic humiliation. (high quality.MP3 file)

Listen to the teaser, then download the juicy parts.

Oh – and in case you missed the original “love” letter:

Domme GFE Love Letter – A love letter, dominant girlfriend style. I sweetly explain why you’re a wimp, a failure as a man, can’t fuck me properly… and what I’m going to do about it. (There’s a surprise inside the mail, if you look closely.)

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Call to my Dominant Girlfriend Experience phone domme line:

We introduce ourselves. He’s calling after reading my listing – he likes the idea of a dominant girlfriend.

He tells me he’s a shy guy.

“So you need a woman who’s very take-charge.”

“Exactly. One who will take advantage of me sexually.”

I purr out that kind of thing’s right up my alley.

He pauses, breathes, and -

Click.

Aw. I hadn’t even started to tie him up yet.

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The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #164? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Another Night With My Beer Buddy
“She nodded, her eyes closing with pleasure, his arm working.”

Blowjob in Red
“My voice descended into lust.”

Her dirty talk got me off. twice.
“Why does that turn me on so goddamn much?”

Sugasm Editor
Sex Work And Honesty: The Correct Answer

Editor’s Choice
Stockinged Feet

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

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I’ll be a phone-in guest tonight on international sexologist (and fellow phone sex maven – with that voice, no wonder!) Dr. Susan Block’s radio show, RadioSuzy1, along with the founder of lesbian social network DigiRomp and Krystal Mazzola of Sassy Sexpert. You can watch or listen in live starting at 11pm PST – I’ll be calling in between 11:30 and midnight and will be available for calls immediately after the show.

Care to join me?

You can call into the show at 1-866-289-7068 and call me afterwards to talk about it at 1-800-TO-FLIRT, extension 01621402. All new Niteflirt members get 3 free minutes, and new callers who mention either this blog post or RadioSuzy1 will get a previously unpublished tease photo of yours truly.

18+ only, $2.19/min

UPDATE: The show was a blast! If you missed me live, you can still download and listen to tonight’s archived radio show (right-click to save). Be prepared for some incredibly sexy people saying “penis” repeatedly.

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Recently I received a review copy of “Bill and Desiree: Love is Timeless,” an explicit erotic film documenting the lovemaking – and love story – of Bill and Desiree, an attractive, engaging couple in their 50’s.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this DVD to be honest. It was my first time watching a Comstock Films erotic documentary, and while I have a great appreciation for the art of expressing subtlety and intimacy in erotic video I wasn’t sure that I was the right person to review a portrait of real sex and intimacy between an older couple.

Score one for discovering latent preconceptions and score two for blowing them out of the water.

It was the humor that drew me in, the humor and their personalities. (I laughed out loud at Bill’s retelling of his admiration for Desiree’s “perfect” pussy. And then, having seen it, had to agree.) They’re a naturally funny and charming couple – I found myself thinking how fun it would be to have them over for dinner, drinks and poker. Or go hiking. Bill and Desiree are very enthusiastic people – about their community, about nature, about art, about sexual exploration and about each other. It’s infectious and utterly endearing.

You can tell they’re in love. It’s the way she watches him when he talks, not the camera… the way he touches her shoulder casually, like she’s a part of him. There’s a sweet touch of worship in the way he speaks of her – and she radiates it back joyously. They had been dating only three weeks when strangers were asking them how long they’d been married.

At this point in the interview Bill pulled out his book – as in, one he’d written – and uttered a phrase I’d never heard in an erotic movie before: “This is actually a place where I’d like to read a poem.”

And it was a sexy poem.

The Comstocks’ filmmaking style never gets in the way of Bill and Desiree’s love story. The arousal builds slowly; cuts of love scenes are woven throughout the interview. This approach works well for relationship-oriented erotica; we get to know Bill and Desiree before we see them make love. We get to witness and understand their attraction to each other and we get to develop chemistry with them as well. A friend once told me the great weakness of erotic movies was that we’re never given the chance to find the stars sexy. We have time to see their bodies, but not to develop an attraction to their quirks and personality. Tony and Peggy Comstock give us that chance.

Comstock Films’ catchphrase is “real sex,” and this film shows the realities of sex in a relationship. Desiree and Bill talk about accepting that sometimes orgasms just aren’t going to happen but enjoying the sex anyway; they emphasise that “peak experiences are just that” but that even “boring” sleepy sex is worthwhile. It’s about sharing pleasure, staying connected.

And then it’s the quiet of the camera and their kissing, laughing and undressing… hands and smiles and the camera just glancing over their bodies, like a lover does, rendering faces and sensual movement just as visually important as genitals. The Comstocks know when to focus on Desiree’s face, on the energy of her pleasure, then back to Bill’s hand inside her natural pussy. Their sex flows back and forth, exchanges of pleasure, peaks and valleys… it’s not at all about a pop shot, it’s very unscripted. Their lovemaking flows naturally from their creative, exploratory sexual energy.

Bill going down on her dildo was a very cool scene: unexpected and sweetly kinky. It brought back happy memories of my own.

In “Bill and Desiree: Love is Timeless” the Comstocks have successfully created three things: an erotic film, a relationship documentary and an explicit love story. It’s difficult to master even one. This is not a forgettable explicit movie to be deleted after viewing. You will be aroused. You will also be affected. The words and the images of Bill and Desiree’s love scene will stay with you. You’ll watch it again, and be moved again by that same playful passion…

This is what real sex looks like. Hands clenching, faces scrunched up, unexpected orgasms… tangled up in clothes and in laughing, playful sexual energy. We’re so afraid of sex fading away when we take off our band t-shirts and put on the real world. If this tender sexual exploration is what we’re all dreading then frankly I can’t wait.

You can purchase “Bill and Desiree: Love Is Timeless“ from Amazon.com (free shipping) and visit Comstock Films‘ website to explore their other erotic documentaries.

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Bacchus has published a truly powerful guest post — no, not a post but a sermon, A Sermon in Favor of Porn:

Nature sends us into the world with all sorts of X’s. Maybe your X lines up neatly with your actual situation in life. But then again, maybe not. The world is full of people — competent, successful people — with X’s that are imprudent, or immoral, or illegal, or indeed outright impossible. Maybe you have a thing for inappropriate would-be partners, or for non-consensual interactions. Perhaps your X is being a pirate — or being taken by pirates. Your X might even be monumentally weird — at least to others. There are people who claim to have been turned on by the scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in which Violet blew up into a giant blueberry.

If this is your X, I do not recommend your trying to blow up an actual girl in this manner.

So what should you do?

Well, as it happens the world is full of hard-working artists [...]

I find myself nodding my head and saying: Yes. That. Exactly.

No one overlaps perfectly with their partner or partners’ turnons, fetishes and fantasies. And so: here I am, teasing those bare edges, limning those white-hot secret thoughts with my words, my body, my voice.

There is a beauty in this that’s hard to describe. But you feel it, don’t you?

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Adult model and sex magick practitioner Sequoia Redd linked to this absolute gem of a blog post, “Butch Lesbians and Masculine Privilege- A fable with a lesson at the end,” written exactly one year to the day after my last post was drafted:

Even in the way I was attracted to people- I still idolized masculinity- the whole world, it seemed, did- and I may as well have stayed straight for all the feminist good I was doing. Masculine was good. Femininity was bad. That, I realized, was called Sexism.

(more…)

I can appreciate the irony: even as we move toward a greater appreciation of sex work, that oldest and simplest means of ascribing value to a woman, we reflexively devalue the feminine. Which is why it’s so important for those of us that perform femme to wear our femme identity with pride and strength – not because we’re afraid to be masculine, but because we’re not afraid to own that this, too, has power and worth. Ciswomen were not born second-best, and transwomen are not reaching for something lower but femmes of all walks of life – queer or otherwise, born with it or born to seek it – are making the choice to embrace this second walk, hips swaying.

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(For my 3rd blogaversary I’m publishing select previously private blog entries. Originally drafted in January 2008 after hearing one too many women say “I’m not like most girls” with obvious contempt…)

I’m starting to think that we self-identified “vixens” are terribly misogynistic.

We start out feeling different from the other gals. Maybe we have a hard time relating to them. Most of our friends are guys, often from an early age.

We tend to be very independent (some might say selfish). We don’t want to live our lives by anyone else’s rulebook, least of all the gender-pink lace trimmed one people have tried to hand us. We decide this at an early age. Simultaneously we find the power that comes from flirtation and are intoxicated with it.

We don’t want white dresses or babies or hearts and flowers. We don’t want anything that will weigh us down and try to come first.

We don’t need love. We’re not weak, emotional women.

We’re not afraid to get our hands dirty. To get dirty. We’re accepted into societies of men, but in our own place, as they are very aware of what we are. And we use this.

When we’re around other women, it’s not the same. The dynamic is not the same. We forget how to relate, or we never learn.

They don’t trust us because to us flirting is friendship.

Our boyfriends will have a hard time understanding. They’ll want more than we can give. They’ll want a heart.

We’ll have a hard time opening up, or be too open, or both.

We define ourselves as not being like the other girls – perhaps defensively – and because of this we mirror the gender stereotypes we were taught, hard.

Lately for every gal I hear or read who says she doesn’t enjoy the company of other women because they’re always so much cattier than men, I hear contempt for their gender and its perceived weakness. (And a woman who hasn’t been around her male friends when they gossip and fight. Of course, since they’re men, they would use the word argue – which is an angry word but a word of strength. It’s not often used strictly to demean. Gossip is a powerless word for ineffectual people and we only apply it to women. We castrate our own gender.)

It’s one thing to rebel against being spoonfed a stereotype as an ideal. It’s another thing to have obvious disgust for your gender (and most of these offending women are primarily gendered female, even if they do sometimes feel male inside; or at least, they express their gender as female).

I caught myself at it when I realized I was emotionally neutered. I fixed that. Mostly.

But even then, I thought the problem was a fear of vulnerability, not a fear of all the mockable quirks we define as female.

I’m not saying this was any less my actual personality. I was on this path because my own inclinations led me there; it wasn’t simple rebellion. But humans need both traditionally masculine and traditionally feminine qualities within themselves to be whole people. I thought wearing lace and high heels and being into emotional honesty was expressing my feminine side.

There’s more to being a woman than dressing the part (although that’s a reward I savor).

A fear of committment commitment – I can’t even spell the word – is unanticipated when a woman wears it but that doesn’t make it any less a weakness of character than it is in a man.

Not all traditionally masculine qualities are positive. We weave them into ourselves because they represent power and we love power any way we can get it. Taken from us (ooh!), wielded by us (mmm…), exchanged and rearranged in the kinkiest permutations… We use our bodies, our voices, our feminine wiles, just as we use our masculine traits. To disarm men and confuse them when they trail after us like lost puppies.

It’s one thing to be independent, and favor few attachments, and not be very interested in relationships but that is sometimes a stage, not a permanent trait, and even when it is a permanent trait, it’s neither a positive nor a negative. It’s just a way of being.

We don’t need to throw poison darts at women who didn’t spit on their gender-pink, lace trimmed role book.

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Quick question for my phone domination callers (and curious would-be callers): I know you’ve mentioned wanting an easy way to keep track of my Niteflirt schedule. Now that I’m posting on Twitter fairly regularly, it’s easy for me to just publish my availability there as it changes. You can subscribe via Twitter or any RSS reader (or just refresh my Twitter page obsessively like a good stalker).

Thing is, my existing Twitter account also contains blog update notifications, interesting links, replies to friends and the usual bits of fluff you’d expect in a Twitter feed. (I’m not that bad. There’s only been one tweet about my new kitten.)

I’m sold on the idea but debating one thing: Should I create a separate Twitter account strictly for phone sex and cam schedule updates, or is it easier for you to stalk me all in one place? If you’ve been trying to catch me on Niteflirt, let me know honestly: is this something you would use or do you have another suggestion?

Comments, email (sabrinamorgan at gmail dot com) or Twitter responses (twitter.com/SabrinaMorgan) much appreciated…

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