Orgasmic Review: Rocks off 80, “Precious Golden Passion”

From the moment I got my dispatch notice for the precious golden passion, I was excited. It looks like every girl’s best friend, glitzy gold and 7 speed! When it arrived I wasn’t disappointed. On opening the box, it looks like the Prada of sex toys, expensive and classy. I also love how the bevelled effect is actually there, I was expecting it to be smooth, but it really feels like it’s been dipped in glitter, an excellent added sensation.

After the obligatory hand test of the settings, (and yes I tested it on the tip of my nose too, achoo, achoo) I was even more impressed. It is POWERFUL, and the phrase “7 speed” doesn’t seem to do the settings justice, it vibrates, vibrates faster, and faster… it also has pulse settings, it has pulsing pulse settings, I was wet before I got it to the bedroom.

Downside at this point, in the silence of a bedroom, it is noisier than your average bullet, not wake the neighbours noisy, but definitely hide under the duvet and turn the TV on so the kids don’t hear.

So, lets slide under the duvet, with the joy of Glee in the background and see what this beauty can do. After I got momentarily distracted by which setting to start with, I decided the only fair way to enjoy my new toy was to scroll through them all. Each and every one is a joy, though in the throes of excitement the button can be a little awkward to push just right. Slightly annoying, but with a little practice, I’m sure the right position will soon be second nature.

I’ve owned other bullets and without a doubt even on the golden’s, gentlest setting it’s much more powerful. So much so on its strongest I swear it feels like little bolts of electricity are being sent through you, in a good way of course. The pulse settings do however feel very similar to each other, while a big difference in hand its much less noticeable “in bed”.

I gave this little gem 40 minutes of my time, it gave me three orgasms and a very happy, if a little numb, pussy. I highly recommend it to anyone wanting something small and powerful, if I could only own one sex toy, it would be this.golden passion

Confining ourselves to boxes…

More and more over the last few days I’ve noticed an influx of people asking the same question… “Am I sub/Dom/little/Daddy enough…”

Why do we need to fit ourselves into a cute little category. Kink isn’t about titles, (yes I appreciate to some, however, those are important) it’s about fantasy, fun and doing what we enjoy. When we try to shape ourselves to fit our titles we have to give things up we like and accept those we don’t. You don’t have to use a nappy to be a little, you dont have to mind fuck to be a Dom and you sure as hell dont have to relabel your kink because someone says you dont fit.

In every aspect of life we have to categorise ourself to someone elses expectation, have to look a certain way, act within certain parameters and surely behind closed doors (in a car, behind a tree, wherever you fancy) is the one time we can truly be ourselves?

I cant help but think asking people to validate our choices and roles is a huge declaration of vulnerability. It shows we lack confidence in ourselves and most starkly, it suggests we don’t even know our own minds. If were going to let other people tell us who we have to be to enjoy ourselves, we aren’t achieving our own aims.

The world of kink is huge, with something to suit every taste, admittedly with some fetishes being more common than others. So who is making these rules that supposedly define us? More importantly still, why are we letting them?

We seem to just throw away our identities to conform to other peoples ideals. We bow down, bite our tongues and squeeze ourselves into places we just dont fit. No one fits, because no one is the same.

As we wander through life waiting for acceptance and validation we are forgetting who’s opinion really matters. Our own. No one can make us feel happy and confident but ourselves. Acceptance comes from within, and only when we can stand up, say, “This is who I am” and be comfortable with that can we truley enjoy life and kink at all.

For those trying to conform for specific people, its never going to work anyway. You cant make yourself who someone else wants you to be. Eventually the facade will fade away. By accepting who you really are, only then can you find what you’re looking for. The people who will matter will see your differeces and want to be with you, sub for you, Dom you, for exactly those reasons.

Throw the cage away (unless you like it 😉 ) and be who you want to be, dont let labels define you.

 

 

The Club

Another of my short stories for you all, well part of one anyway 😉


 

Adjusting the tiny black, leather mini skirt to ensure no one can see there’s nothing underneath I walk into the club, my red high heels clicking against the foyer floor even over the beat of the music from inside.

I know you’ll be beside the bar, but as I stalk over I don’t look in your direction. When the barman brings my drink I slip the straw between my red painted lips and watch the room. I can feel your eyes on me and lean back against the bar, my skirt sliding a little higher.  This time I don’t adjust it, let the world see what’s beneath, as long as you do too.

I place my bottle on the polished wood surface, the stain of my lips visible on the clean white plastic of the straw, and walk back towards the exit. Your gaze burns into my skin and knowing you watch me so intently excites me.

I smile to the doorman and slip into the alleyway beside the club. I slow my steps, listening intently. Not hard enough though, as your hand pulls my hair backwards I feel your lips on my neck, then your teeth.

“You’re such a tease, you know that?” Your voice is low and hard, just as I can feel you are, digging in between the cheeks of my exposed ass. My skirt has ridden up way beyond decency.

Something soft covers my eyes and I feel your hand snake between my legs.

“I knew you’d be wet for me. Don’t say a word, just walk.”

Your strong hand pushes me forward, resting in the small of my back to guide me. I can hear the sound of a car unlocking a few feet ahead of us, and your voice barely above a whisper in my ear.

“Get in the car, quickly, your pussy is on show for all to see and you’re being watched.”

When you open the door, I fumble into the seat, trying to keep myself covered but knowing it’s not working, whoever is watching can see everything I have. When you reach across to clip in the seat belt I feel the gentle bite again my nipple, the low cut top I’m wearing giving no protection. The second bite is harder and I gasp in pain and excitement.

I cross my legs to ease the burning ache between them as the engine roars into life.

“Oh, nearly forgot something.” I can hear the laughter in your voice.

Your strong hands pull my legs apart, fingers robing into the wetness, something hard and sphere shaped is pushed inside my, you don’t take care to be gentle, there’s no need I’m so ready for you, then a second connected object follows. Then they start to vibrate and my fingers dig into the seat, my teeth gritted to prevent myself crying out.

“I’m going to take you to the middle of nowhere bitch, then I’m going to cane you until your arse is red raw, and fuck you on the bonnet of the car. And I don’t care who sees you. You’re about to learn what happens to little girls who tease.”

As you start to drive it’s all I can do to stop myself orgasming there and then, the vibrations, the fullness and what’s coming next…

Is the world ready for truthful representation of kink?

#Pitmad was quite a good one for me back in June (for anyone who doesn’t know it’s a twitter pitch party where you pitch your novel in 140 characters or less to agents and publishers) I got a good few ❤ and I was feeling positive. Out went my novel full of hope and excitement, again.

Then in come the rejections, (okay 2/8, all is not lost yet lol), and it got me thinking. I would be inclined to think my writing just isn’t good enough, but that 85k words of torture were critted to hell and back by the best critiquers Scribophile has to offer (I recommend that site wholly to any one wanting to publish). I’ve been told over and over again that its good, the story arc is strong, characters strong and writing eventually after more edits than I can count strong. Yet constantly the rejection emails bounce back, true to form. Now sure a novel based heavily on some quite intense BDSM scenes is not to everyone’s taste, but on a 3 chapter sample, no agent has actually read them. Is the synopsis of the storyline what could be holding me back?

Is the fact my leading lady is strong, independent, powerful and submissive too much for people to deal with? I have to wonder if I’d made her a weak little sapling would it have drawn more interest. The fact my Dominant male is actually quite meek and mild-mannered not sitting right with people who have an “ideal” image of BDSM in their heads?

Now ignoring again the fact it could just be my writing, could it be the world just isn’t ready to have its stereotypical goalpost moved? Is it possible that the fact people have an image of what a Dom and sub are is what makes them feel safe and secure in the knowledge they are “normal”?

Accepting the truth of the fact a woman can be strong and submissive, a man gentle and Dominant would mean re-evaluating everything they think they know about kink. It would mean they would have to consider that in actual fact we are “normal” too. That anyone can have a kinky side. Is it just too scary to imagine their teacher, best friend, mechanic might actually be depraved creatures they fear?

Is the stereotype created simply so people can sit comfortably knowing none of their friends and acquaintances are odd, or engaging in disgusting acts. Or is it because maybe, if we challenge the stereotype, they have to challenge their own desires?

When we go into new relationships, no one ever questions if their prospective new partner likes sex. Yet if they like kinky sex is not only a question many would think twice about asking, it’s also one that could see the check being called  for before you’ve finished your appetisers.

For years people have argued the most homophobic of people may be gay themselves, the most racist ignorant of peoples backgrounds, cultures and believes, is it the same for kink? Do people fear they too may be submissive, sadist, Dominant, and only by convincing themselves submissives are weak, Dominants cruel that they can reassure themselves they are “normal”.

Does normal even exist, or is that too a myth we invent so we can neatly catagorise ourselves with the rest of society through fear of being ostracised for being different.

Are we getting too lazy for real sex?

I cant help but notice recently the rise in requests for cams, sexy pictures and dirty messages. Nice to know I warrant such messages of course, but whatever happened to actual meetings, coffee, dinner and the real thing?

Have we got too lazy to make the effort for the real thing when the internet means we can find our own porn stars to perform for us? Surely though, that can’t compete with actually finding someone you connect with to sleep with? When did porn stop being something we use to enhance a relationship, or because we don’t have one? When did it replace, relationships and actual sex?

Is a rise in people not wanting one night stands causing this? Is it just too messy when you don’t want a relationship, so cyber sex fills a gap with no risk? Or are we becoming a generation so lost in online contact were forgetting how to actually interact with people we take a liking to?

I can’t help but think we lead such busy lives, so complicated that we cant find the time to make actual relationships, our schedules don’t allow the face to face interaction, not to mention the joys of internet mean we discover people further afield that the next town.

Is meeting too complicated to take from messages we can take time to think over, to being put on the spot and having to show our real selves? Is that the fear? The thought who we really are might not be up to standard, that we might be rejected or disliked. Is fear and nervousness overtaking our senses and our lives?

This kind of follows on from my previous post, the urge for hook ups and lack of respect. we take a look, find someone attractive and then want naked pictures. We’re losing our ability to make connections to people, to see beyond their bodies, the hidden pleasure that is getting inside someones mind.

Is it really just me, because I’m pretty sure I get a lot more out of sex when i know what makes a person tick, how to get inside their head. I want to have sex and then a conversation in between before round two.

Virtual reality sex may make it big yet, then we could eliminate interaction all together. Is contact doomed?

 

Sex, Hook Up’s and Respect

In the last few days I was a very lucky girl, I received a message asking “…if I’d like to meet to be tied up.”

Needless to say, I refused this charming offer, but it did get me thinking. When did we become so blase about both our health and safety that these offers are even considered?

The very foundation of the BDSM relationships are safety and sanity, SSC and RACK are not just made up by prudes to spoil our fun, its common sense. Yet random hook ups with anybody, for any kind of sex carries a risk, STI’s at best, meeting a complete nutjob and never seeing the morning rise at worst. Yet within the kink communities these risks are multiplied and include many other possibilities.

STI’s are not a thing of the 80’s they still remain prevalent throughout society, 1 in 10 people screened for chlamydia test positive, so for every ten people you sleep with, statistically, one is carrying clamydia, and that’s a single infection, imagine the overall possibilities.

Secondly, in this game, you need complete trust (at least I do, i don’t sub for anyone I don’t connect to and have complete faith in). How do you know that random hook up has any clue what He/She is doing? They could tie too tight, cut too deep, cause asphyxia too long, all possibilities just though lack of knowledge with no harm intended. All things that could end up in life long damage. Do we not need to be certain our partners completely understand what they are doing? Do we not require a Dom to prove himself before we submit to their desires?

. Finally, most terrifying off all, bound and gagged we could have just put ourselves in the hands of a killer. Scaremongering maybe, but they are out there, they do exist. While they don’t walk around carrying signs, and could just as easily gain out trust first, should we not at least try to protect ourselves?

Are we becoming so desperate to get our fix of sex, vanilla or kink, that we are willing to risk our lives for it? Worse still, do people truly have so little respect for us that they expect us to?

In my opinion a man who expects me to submit to him, to sleep with him without even getting to know me is not a true Dom. He doesn’t respect me, doesnt know my limits, what I like and what I don’t. He has no desire to do anything except satisfy his own needs, and that is not what BDSM is about. Kink is mutual, a Dom wants to bring His sub to the brink of sanity through her pleasure, He wants her to enjoy pleasing Him and He wants her trust.

Isn’t that half the enjoyment, knowing your charge trusts you implicitly, being able to read their body so well you don’t need a safeword because you know when they’re reaching their limits? Knowing how they’ll respond to your touch, and which punishments will bring them to the brink.

Maybe I’m old school, maybe I have too high an expectation. But if a random fuck with a bit of rope and a stranger is the D/s relationship today, i’m glad i am.

Scarlet, the Huntsman and the Wolf

Tonight as a change to my usual rambling about crap, I decided I’d share some of my writing with you instead.

This is NOT for the faint hearted, it’s a graphic sexual retelling of little red riding hood, and the wolf will be making an appearance, you have been warned!


 

Scarlet, the Huntsman and the Wolf

 

 

Scarlet stood in front of her dressing table, a large mahogany beauty that filled the cramped space. She smiled to herself as she brushed out her long blonde hair, letting it tumble free around her shoulders. Adjusting her breasts so they almost spilled over her tightly fitted red bodice she winked at her reflection. She threw her cloak over her shoulders fastened the silver clasp and raised the hood, hiding her appearance. At twenty-two, she was a beautiful woman who knew the power of her body.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs of her family’s small cottage, she retrieved a wicker basket of baked goods her mother had prepared. “I’m going to see gran,” she called out to anyone who was listening.

“Make sure you’re home before dark and stick to the trails,” a soft but warm voice responded.

Rolling her eyes at the warning she received every time, Scarlet left the house. She had no intention of keeping to the pebbled paths, and even less of actually visiting her gran. It was the huntsman, with his rough hands and stubbled good looks she planned to seek out.

As soon as the trees obscured her from view of the cottage, she loosened her cloak, revealing her milky flesh to anyone who might care to see it. She was only sorry the soft ground of the woods made heels impossible; her flat pumps didn’t show her legs to their full advantage in her opinion.

It wasn’t long before she heard the steady thunk of an axe splitting wood and knew she’d found her mark. Adjusting her ample chest once more, so the pale pink surrounding her nipples was just visible, she crossed the long grass to where the sound came from.

The huntsman’s trained ears heard Scarlet moments before he saw her, and what a sight she was. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her. The last time had been by pure accident, but it wasn’t a meeting he would soon forget. He taken her up against a tree, quickly and roughly, the gashes in his hands from the bark has taken days to heal. She’d loved every minute, as had he, but this time he planned to savour her.

“Well, well.” He smiled. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be alone out here. You never know who’s lurking… or what they might do to you.”

“So I’ve heard, Sir. I must remember to be more careful.” She returned his grin and didn’t slow her steps towards him. When she was just centimetres away, close enough to taste the delicate perfume she used, the axe dropped to the floor and the huntsman’s empty hands grabbed Scarlet’s waist.

Pulling her body into him, he kissed her hard. His tongue probing her mouth roughly. She returned his kisses with equal fervour, she was not as sweet and innocent and she liked to portray. Within moments the huntsman had her laid on the ground beneath his weight and was pulling at the laces on her bodice like a starved man about to be fed.

Moments later Scarlet’s unhindered breasts were exposed to the cool breeze, her nipples hardened at the sudden chill and the huntsman groaned at the sight. His fingers pulled and twisted the erect flesh, making them harden further still and causing Scarlet to writhe beneath him. Kneading one breast roughly, he took the other in his mouth, his course facial hair scratching against the skin, turning the smooth white a rosy red. He bit down on the tender flesh, softly at first then harder. Scarlet bucked and moaned, pushing herself into his face. His nails scratched at the perfect skin, and the huntsmen took a moment to marvel at the red tramlines left in their wake. He moved his lips to the other breast, teasing the nipple between his teeth, pulling it into his mouth until it was as hard as his straining erection.

Keeping his mouth at her sensitive breasts his hands roamed downward, her midi skirt already pushed up to her waist with the bucking of her hips. His harsh fingers soon found the sopping wet panties. Grinding his palm against Scarlet’s sex with all the force of kneading bread she moaned loader as he bit down at the same time.

Sitting back on his laurels the huntsman admired the sight beneath him. Her legs opened wide, the smooth pussy was clearly visible through the now see though underwear. He tore the material from her body and pushed her legs open wider. With one hand on her chest, he pinned her to the ground, the other explored the hot wetness that waited for him. Her clit was as hard as her now reddened nipples he would have sworn it vibrated with need. Pinching the tiny bud between his fingers his mouth found her breasts again and sucked at them hungrily.

He took his time, rubbing, pinching and flicking at her aching clit while teasing one nipple then the other. The more she moaned, cried and bucked the firmer his touch became. If she liked it rough, he was more than happy to oblige. The callouses on his hands only increased Scarlet’s pleasure, the tough skin excited her most delicate area.

Caressing her soaking folds with his fingers, he slipped two inside her easily. He wasted no time thrusting them in and out of until she bucked beneath him wildly. He showed no mercy as he abused her pussy, roughly bringing her to the brink of orgasm. He slowed his thrusts teasing her g-spot until her excitement shone between her thighs. Her breath came in short gasps and the huntsmen knew she was close. He withdrew his fingers and she cried out in frustration, writhing on the ground, desperate for release.  Seconds later when he slammed three fingers inside her, her cries turned to screams of ecstasy. Scarlet came heavily, soaking his hand and the grass beneath them.

When her sated body finally stilled on the ground, the huntsmen pulled free his erection. Pushing his charges legs open wider with his knees, he buried himself fully inside Scarlet in a single thrust. His wait had made him harder than she remembered and she raised her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. He slid in and out of her wet sex smoothly building towards a climax for both of them. As his drives became deeper and faster he bit down on her breast until she exploded around him and his seed was spent inside her.

They lay on the grass breathing heavily, their bodies worn and sleepy. Such was her comfort with her own body Scarlet didn’t even try to rearrange her clothes to cover herself. Despite the coolness of the breeze, the sun was warm on their bodies and they dozed side by side.

Half-asleep Scarlet was startled to feel something hot, wet and rough against her pussy, not sure if she was dreaming or awake she allowed herself to succumb to the feelings it evoked deep in her stomach. Only when her brain registered the snores of the huntsman did it occur to her that the warm wetness was too rough, too long and lapping at her swollen pussy too deeply.

Hardly daring to look down a scream strangled itself in her throat when she saw the shaggy head of a wolf between her legs. Trying to scrabble backwards away from the animal she froze when it looked up at her. Baring its teeth it growled throatily, then licked its wet muzzle. Terrified, Scarlet was unsure if her legs would bare her weight, and even more unsure of what the animal would do if she ran. She carried on trying to inch backwards, twigs and small rocks digging into the flesh of her buttocks.

Almost four feet away, she was convinced she could escape, just a few more feet and then she could make a run for it. The wild creature had other ideas. Springing forward it pinned her to the ground, its paws on her chest, the thick claws digging into the round flesh of her breasts. She cried out in fear, and thanks to the remaining sensitivity of the huntsman’s ministrations the lash of arousal. The animal held her to the ground and dipped its head between her legs once more. Hungrily lapping at the juices flowing from her pussy, the mix of both her and the huntsman didn’t deter the animal. Its long rough tongue licked inside and out. Long drawn out strokes against her pulsing clit, then short sharp stabs deep inside her.

Despite her fear and revulsion, Scarlet felt her pussy moisten once more; it knew no difference between what touched it, only that it ached for more. With no idea what else to do, she lay her head back on the grass and closed her eyes, widening her legs she saw only once choice. Enjoy what the creature did until it bored and she could escape.

The wetter her folds became the more the animal seemed to enjoy its task. Its attentions focused on her opening, lapping each drop of juice. Probing deeply inside her for more. The long tongue seemed to reach parts of her no one else ever had. The roughness drove her body to shake and gasp.  Opening her eyes, Scarlet was shocked to find the huntsman not only watching, but also pleasuring himself at the same time.

“Help me,” she whispered to him.

Not even breaking his grip or stride, he continued to masturbate to the sight before him. “There’s no stopping him, girl. Be good, and he’ll leave you be when he’s spent.” Grinning the huntsman moved toward her. “Might as well enjoy the show. Open your mouth, there’s a good girl.”

Doing as she was told, Scarlet allowed the huntsmen to push his member past her lips; she sucked at him hungrily while feeling her orgasm building. She tried not to gag as he forced himself deeper into her mouth, he was pulling her legs open wider, almost painfully so. The wolf’s licking was becoming more frantic, less controlled and Scarlet feared what might come next. As uncontrolled as it may be, the wolf had a habit of lashing out at her overly sensitive clit so she almost burst many a time. When her orgasm finally erupted, it was as though the wolf became crazed. It licked and nipped at her opening, trying to taste every drop of her come. When he forced his tongue further inside her, his teeth grazed her clit so she exploded almost instantly again.

When the licking stopped, the huntsmen too pulled away.

“Are you ready, girl?” he asked.

“For what?” Scarlet’s eyes widened at the wolf in front of her. It was moving forward, standing over her body, its huge cock, erect and like nothing she had seen before. Bigger than any mans, it was twice as thick and the base thicker and rounder still.

“He’s going to fuck you. Do not struggle those teeth could tear you apart. And so could its dick.”

The animal lowered its hindquarters, trying to stab itself inside Scarlet. Missing it barked in frustration. The huntsmen obviously dying to see the girl fucked by the wild animal came to its rescue. Holding her legs wide and shoving his jacket under her hips to raise them, he guided the animal into her waiting pussy. Despite his large girth, there was no gentle easing into her. As soon as the animal felt itself touching the wetness, it plunged in deeply. Scarlet screamed out as the animal stretched her pussy wide. Her lips ached with the force, her thighs screamed in protest. Within seconds, the animal was pumping itself inside her furiously. The pain of being stretched so wide was soon forgotten by Scarlet and the fullness inside her touched every sweet spot she had. Her body rose to another orgasm, and another after than in quick succession.

When the animal finally came, that too caused Scarlet to erupt herself, the hot seed jetted inside her, spilling out she was full. When the animal pulled out, he paused only a second before running back to wherever it came. Scarlet’s body ached with the roughness.

“Well my girl, you were a lucky find,” the huntsmen said. “Now my turn to finish off, then you’re coming home with me. I’m not done with you and I’m hoping he’ll be back for more as well.”

As the huntsman buried himself in her soaking pussy, Scarlet couldn’t help but hope for the same, only she hoped he bought friends too.