Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Book Review : Superfanny by Jennie May
Jennie May has written a very cute parody of the “Supernanny” television series. I would only recommend it to those who like spanking stories, as there is no sex at all, but for those who are into a bit of domestic discipline presented in a story which is light and cheeky, this could well hit the spot.
Harried husband Dave rings Superfanny when he can no longer stand the nagging and temper tantrums of his wife Deanna. She makes him do all the housework while she sits around watching TV and demanding that he bring her sodas from the fridge. Their marriage is a reversal of the cliche of lazy husband and dutiful wife. Deanna is like a female Al Bundy.
Deanna tells the story of the new discipline regime that Superfanny institutes, creating a “naughty spot” for her to sit on when she disobeys, and spanking her when she refuses to sit there. And, once Superfanny has established the new order, it is Dave’s turn to take over.
What makes a spanking story work is the shifting power relationship between the characters. We delight in rebelliousness which we know will lead to a corresponding punishment. And in this story the fact that a stranger is the initial spanker adds an exciting extra frisson of humiliation.
But humiliation and pain, in a spanking story, can be liberating forces. Certainly this is the case for Deanna, whose selfish behaviour alienates her from a warm loving relationship with her husband. When he spanks her he shows that he cares about her and he shows that he has self-respect and thus is deserving of her respect.
The psychology of spanking as a form of sexual foreplay is a subject of much controversy. I think that part of the appeal comes from the role of sexuality as a form of rebellion. We often say that it is delightful to be naughty. And what better proof that we are being naughty than that we get spanked.
Today spanking as a form of discipline for children is on the decline, owing to critiques of the use of force as opposed to reason in the control of juvenile misbehaviour. This is most likely a positive change, but it would be a pity if it led to future generations who don’t associate spanking with naughtiness and thus don’t get a sexual thrill out of spanking each other.
Links
Jennie May’s Blog for more info on her spanking and age-play stories.
Emily Winter’s Spanking Forum - Emily writes excitingly and wittily about her spanking relationship.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Have You Ever Been Grabbed By The Personals?
The first time this happened to me, I thought, "Well, it's only $3.95 for a trial 3-day membership. What's four bucks to satisfy my curiosity about this site?" The site is called Be Naughty. Hey, a whole site full of people who want to be naughty. Sounds O.K. until you realise that some people's idea of being naughty is conning you into giving them your email address for nefarious purposes or conning you into signing up with a rapacious cam site by offering the prospect of a free personal striptease. Not that there aren't any genuine members. I had a chance to interact with some in the couple of days before I cancelled my membership.
One lady was very direct. She offered me half an hour of sex for $60. She assured me that she was not a "pro" but just having a bit of financial difficulty. I expressed sympathy for her financial troubles but didn't take her up on her offer. But it did occur to me how strange it is that only in the field of prostitution (or pornography) is it consider a selling point that the service provider is neither experienced nor accredited. When you hire a plumber he doesn't say, "Don't worry, I'm not a professional."
One of the features of this website is what they call a Flirtcast. This allows you to call up a list of members, for instance all the ladies who happen to be in online chat at the moment, and send a bulk email to them asking a question which can break the ice and initiate some conversation. They have a bunch of set questions, and since I'm a movie fan I chose : "Do you like to watch movies?" Then I added the personal comment : "What is the sexiest movie you've seen in the last year?". I got some interesting replies.
The first reply was Fuck Off. I looked it up on IMDB. Must be a fairly obscure movie because it isn't listed.
A couple of women picked The Proposal. I have to give them that. I'm not the biggest fan of Sandra Bullock, but nude Sandra Bullock is definitely preferable to the "aren't I God's gift to educationally-challenge African American football players who are twice the size of King Kong" Sandra Bullock of The Blind Side. And there is something very sexy about the idea of a hot chick and a hot guy who hate each other being forced to share a bed.
This makes me think of the old desert island scenario. Could a hot and heavy relationship develop between almost any pair of gender appropriate individuals if there was noone else? Some say that even arranged marriages can work because the partners, having no alternative, concentrate on bringing out the most that the relationship has to offer. Perhaps the one thought that most eats away at a relationship is the thought that there is someone better out there for us. If you are trapped down a mine shaft and all you have to eat is a three week old Cherry Ripe, I'm sure it is the most delicious thing you ever tasted. But if you are standing outside a gourmet candy emporium it won't seem so sublime. And this is part of the problem with dating sites. Choice. Given the competition, we haven't got a chance. Who is going to pick a boring old fruit and nut bar from a window display which also contains chocolate truffles and Turkish Delight?
You have to fill in an age range for who you are interested in. Since I'm 48 I put 53 as the upper limit. Five years older than me wouldn't be too unacceptable. And a minimum age of 18. Hey, there's nothing wrong with being an optimist. Some girls say they go for an older guy. True they usually say it is because older guys are more confident and experienced. They usually don't admit to looking for a "40-year-old virgin" type because they love guys who are neurotic, pathetic and desperate. But everyone knows that the best sex is dirty sex, and what could be dirtier than having sex with a fat, hairy middle-aged guy with bad breath and body odour? We live in a world where people do all sorts of gross things for sexual kicks - vomiting on each other, pissing on each other, eating shit. Surely it is not unreasonable to assume that some deviant out there would get a kick out of sex with someone like myself. I grant you that when I look in the mirror and try to imagine what making love to someone who looks like me would be like I get kind of grossed out. On the other hand, I don't mind making love to myself with the lights out.
Getting back to the answers to my movie question. One lady said that the sexiest movie she's seen in the last 12 months was Gnomeo and Juliet.
I hope she was joking. The idea of getting turned on by the characters in a children's cartoon is wrong in so many ways. Unless we're talking The Little Mermaid.
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| Rowrrrrh! Talk about driving the pig skin bus into Tuna Town! The only problem is that I don't think she's got a parking bay. |
Another woman said that she only watches thrillers, dramas, action films and horror movies. This seemed a strange reply. Who says that those kinds of movies can't be sexy?
One of my favourite classic thrillers is The Big Sleep (1946). A very sexy film. The dialogue between Humphrey Bogart and all of the females, particularly Lauren Bacall, fairly crackles with sexual electricity. Of course there are no sex scenes. That wasn't allowed in 1946. In 1946 smoking said sex in much the same way that a rocket being launched from Cape Canaveral said sex in the sex comedies of the 1970s. (Am I the only person who likes to watch the "good bits" of the Apollo 11 launch in slow-mo?) In the 40s it was all a case of what they did with their cigarettes. Just replace the cigarettes with cocks and clitorises and you can see what is really going on. (But don't be too literal. Applying a naked flame to one's partner's genitals is frowned upon in all but the kinkiest of circles.) The 1940s were a time when the only act that could make a baby (in that technologically backward era) was considered obscene, but corporations selling addictive substances which fill your lungs with tar, give you bad breath and can lead to a slow agonising death from cancer or emphysema was not.
And what about action films? I was asking my question of women. Don't women find it sexy when some big muscly guy like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Jean-Claude Van Damme takes his shirt off? It takes some imagination for me to put myself into their minds of course. I wouldn't know the appeal of watching the sunlight glisten from the beads of sweat that drip over Sylvester Stallone's man nipples as he ripples his muscles and squeezes off another round from his big throbbing AK-47. Not my cup of tea. But the chicks dig that kind of stuff, don't they?
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| That goofy bunch from The Last House on the Left are always up for a spot of good lovin'. |
One woman said that The Pink Panther was the sexiest film she'd seen in the last year. "Which one?" I asked. "Both of the ones with Steve Martin," she replied. I'm not a narrow-minded person. If I met a woman on one of these sites who was a Scientologist or a member of Al Qaeda, I would say to myself, "Well, you never know, she might have a really nice personality or be good in bed." But if I compromised my sense of self-respect enough to sleep with a woman who could bring herself to watch a Steve Martin Pink Panther movie, let alone enjoy it, it would only be a matter of time before I was smoking crack and hanging around the local retirement village offering to suck off the old men for their pocket change.
Of course one could have fun with the scammers on these sites. It's pretty well known that, whether you are a man or a woman, if a much younger member of the opposite sex with a hot photo contacts you, the reality is that they are someone living in Nigeria who is just hoping to con you out of some money. I'm tempted to respond by saying, "There's no need to be coy, hiding behind a fake photo and location listing. I love the black chicks, and I'm up for a long distance relationship. And, even if you are not really a woman, I am thinking it might be time to overcome my obsessive compulsive inhibition to sex with my own gender. After all, gay guys don't need dating sites. They just need to write their phone number on a toilet wall."
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Libertine : A Pirate Tale
Sometimes a start a story and never finish it. Here is the beginning of what I intended to be a pirate epic. Let me know what you think. I could always continue it if there is any interest.
Chapter One : It Takes a Thief
An ear-splitting crack of thunder shook Agatha into instant wakefulness. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. She must have slept for a long time as night had fallen and all around her was pitch blackness. A moment after the thunder the rain began to fall, heavy drops soaking through her simple peasant dress. She felt it splash against the naked skin of her bust and run down between her breasts. For a while her petticoats kept her legs dry, but soon she would be soaked to the skin. She had fallen asleep in the drowsy afternoon summer heat, but now she began to shiver with the cold.
“Damn!” she cried, when she realised that her precious book would be ruined.
She had fallen asleep over a well-thumbed copy of “Captain Blood”. With the sun inducing a languid drowsiness she had fallen back on the soft grass and imagined being shipwrecked on a desert isle with a burly tattooed pirate. The kind of man who would use his shining hook to rip off her flimsy dress, throw her over his knee and spank her soft naked bottom with his one remaining calloused hand. But after letting out a lusty belly laugh, he’d take a swig of rum, shrug off his clothes and reign down kisses on her every secret place with surprisingly soft lips and a sparkle of mischievous glea in his one remaining eye.
With a soft sigh she had lifted her dress and her petticoats and let the sun kiss her bare pussy lips through the gap in her bloomers.
“Shiver me timbers, Cap’n,” she breathed, as she gently began to rub her tender clit and dip her fingers into her dripping wetness.
Laying there under her favourite tree at the edge of the cliff, the farm stretching out golden brown in the sun behind her and the sea crashing over the rocks far below, her quivering squeals of pleasure where swallowed up by the wind and the screech of circling gulls as her back arched in ecstasy and arms and legs twitched in spasms of pleasure.
A wave of warm happiness spread over her, but she knew it would not last. This was a brief break from her daily grind of milking and cheese-churning and housekeeping for her stern father.
She knew how to enjoy a woman’s pleasures, but sometimes she wished she’d been born a man. The life of a milkmaid was a life of tedium. She longed to climb a mizzen mast and survey the horizon from a swaying crows nest, to spend her nights drinking rum and sharing a bawdy jest.
But those thoughts were now a distant memory as she stood shivering in the pitch blackness, the wind whipping savagely at her dress. She longed for the warmth and comfort of her bed, but she knew that before she could get there she would face the inevitable punishment from her father.
Just as she was about to turn for home, lightning lit up the glowering sky and the raging sea beneath. There before her, shockingly close to shore, was a schooner under full sail. Where her eyes playing tricks on her she wondered as the velvety darkness fell once more.
* * *
When the lightning flashed, a rain-sodden seagull tossed and buffeted by the savage winds, might have seen Captain Bullfinch, his shirt open to reveal his barrel-chest and sleeves rolled up over his bulging biceps, struggling to steer his ship towards the mouth of Blood River, so known to pirates like himself because the setting sun sometimes coloured it a deep shade of red. The rain drenched his curly blond hair and bushy beard, soaking through his shirt, discoloured with sweat and not a little blood. His left shoulder was decorated with a tattoo of an octopus wrapped around an anchor, and his loose black pantaloons were held up by a three-inch wide leather belt.
If seagulls could read, it would have seen that the name of the ship was “The Libertine”. And if it looked a little closer it might have seen that this name was painted on over the carved in outline of the ship’s old name, “H.M.S. Venus”.
“I’ve had blue balls for Saucy Sally’s cunt since we left the Caribbean,” growled Old Monkeybreath, “The Libertine”’s first mate.
“First things first,” Bullfinch barked. “The ship has to be stocked with water and provisions for our next six months at sea before you even start to think about your touching reunion with that golden-hearted haven of the pox.”
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” the mate replied, finishing off the last of the ship’s rum.
“How would you like to play at walking the plank, you mutinous dog,” Bullfinch roared, as the tossing sea threw him hard to port. Monkeybreath, being far from sober stumbled across the rain-slick deck. “You won’t be too bland for the sharks,” the captain added, as the port railing knocked the wind from his mate’s lungs.
* * *
Agatha, shivering and blue with the cold, hid behind a tree and watched as “The Libertine” sailed up the river which ran along the border of the farm.
A short muscular man threw the anchor over the side of the ship, another man threw down a rope ladder and the men began to climb down it onto the riverbank.
“I think they’re pirates,” she said to herself. Only pirates would anchor away from a major port. And those certainly didn’t look like sailor suits they were wearing.
One of the men particularly caught her attention. A tall man with a barrel chest and curly blond hair. He seemed to be the leader. No sooner was he ashore and he began to strip off his clothes. He had tattoos on his chest and bicep, but she couldn’t make out the design. She did, however, notice the way the muscles rippled on his back and the firmness of his buttocks as he walked naked down to the edge of the river and plunged in. It must have been freezing.
A short while later he had dressed himself in a gentleman’s tweed suit and top hat and was headed off up the river to the bridge which carried the road into town.
At that moment Agatha made a decision which would change her whole life. She ran back to the farm house. She would take her father’s spanking. But it would be the last. When everyone was asleep, she would steal some of her brother’s clothes, cut off most of her hair and return to the pirate ship. She was sure that there would be some opportunity to sneak aboard if she was patient enough.
* * *
As Bullfinch walked through the streets of London noone would have ever suspected that he was a pirate. He blended perfectly into the crowd.
They knew him at his favourite tavern, Davey Jone’s Locker, but noone there would give away his secret. He was a valuable customer.
He pushed through the door, making the transition from the clear star-spangled night to the smoky warmth and raucous noise of the tavern. There was his mate’s sweetheart Saucy Sally pouring a pint of beer while a customer’s hand wandered under her skirt.
“Hi, Sally!” he cried, slapping her on the arse. “Old Monkeybreath’ll probably be here tomorrow. Just don’t let him give you anything he might of picked up from those dusky island maidens.”
“You mean he hasn’t been faithful to me!” she cried in mock indignation.
“That guy’d fuck a rhinoceros if there weren’t a woman handy,” he chided her.
“Whose the new girl?” he asked, indicating a pretty young thing serving demurely behind the bar, as scenes of unimaginable debauchery took place on all sides.
“That’s Kate,” Sally replied. “You won’t have much luck there. A pretty face, but she belongs in a nunnery.”
“Perhaps I’ll be the one to warm her heart. Or another place,” he laughed.
She wished him good luck as an old gentleman scooped her right breast out of her bodice and began to suck happily on her nipple, something she seemed to treat as the equivalent of a tip. Sally was a woman whose sensuality was never discouraged by the ugliness or lack of hygiene of those who might attend to it.
“Your finest rum,” Bullfinch declared to the pretty Kate as he plunked a gold sovereign on the bar. “And there could be more of those if you decide to be friendly to a tired sailor.”
“I’m friendly to all the customers,” Kate replied. “But never familiar.”
“No, I didn’t think you looked familiar,” Bullfinch replied.
* * *
Deciding that there would be plenty of time to pursue the pleasures of the flesh once he was more rested, Bullfinch retired early and was soon snoring with his bag of gold sovereigns on the table by his bed.
But a man who lives by his wits is a light sleeper, and he was instantly wide awake when he heard the soft step of a bare foot beside the bed. His hand shot out to the bag of gold, and wrapped around a tender female hand currently occupied in burrowing within it.
Grabbing a fistful of hair with his other hand he brought the girl’s face down next to his own.
“I said you might get some more if you were friendly. Stealing isn’t very friendly,” he whispered.
“Stealing?” asked Kate. “I wasn’t trying to steal any. I was just making sure it was safe.”
“Never try to steal from a professional thief,” he advised her. Then he sat up in bed and pulled her down over his lap.
“I think I better go now, sir,” she whimpered.
“Not until you’ve learned your lesson,” he replied, sliding a rough hand up the soft skin of her legs until, with a skip of his heart and a swelling of his cock he felt the goosebumped flesh of her naked bottom. For a moment he enjoyed the feel of her soft fleshy mounds. “My, my, such a cold bottom for a warm-hearted girl. But don’t worry, I’ll soon get it warmed up.”
“Don’t!” she squealed, wriggling against the place where the bedsheet covered his rock hard cock.
Grabbing the neck of her flimsy night-gown he quickly ripped it down the back and pulled it out from under her. It was so insubstantial that he was able to push the whole of it easily into her mouth.
“Mmmmmnnnphhh,” she protested.
“Much better,” he decided.
Lifting his right hand high in the air he began spanking her lovely soft round bottom as she squirmed and wriggled against the stiffness of his prick.
After a few minutes he could feel the warmth of her burning bottom against his hand. Then, pulling her face up to his and kissing her passionately on the lips he felt that the cheeks of her face also burned, such was her shame.
Reaching down between the hot cheeks of her bottom his fingers found the warm wetness of her pussy. It was dripping its juice freely over the bed covers.
“So all it takes to warm up cold Kate is a little spanking, hey?” he smiled.
“Mmnnnffnnn,” she moaned pushing down to feel the length of his big fingers sliding deep into her yearning pussy.
Bullfinch knew where the secrets of a woman’s pleasure lay and he played with her pussy as skilfully as a master musician might play his instrument.
With his other hand he removed the cloth from her mouth.
“That’s better than gold,” she sighed. “Let me under the sheets. I want to be fucked by a pirate captain’s cock.”
“So that’s how nun’s talk, is it?” the captain laughed, raising the sheets and welcoming her beneath them.
She sighed and nuzzled her soft body against him as he guided her hand to the stiff throbbing source of heat.
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