Z is for Zealot

A person who is fanatical and uncompromising in pursuit of their religious, political, or other ideals.

Zealot is a negative word. After all, compromise is at the heart of human endeavors. When it comes to spanking though, I’ll accept the label of zealot. 😉

I love spanking. As my blog address states: I Lurv Spanking. Why? No idea. I just know that no sexual act brings me as much satisfaction as spanking. And yes, I do believe that spanking is sexual. [Discuss that among yourselves.]

When it comes to D/s, I am fully uncompromising in supporting spanking between consenting adults, whether it be punishment, discipline, erotic, playful or therapy. Spanking is not weird, abnormal, deviant or damaging when done correctly and with respect.

I’m fanatical in reading and writing about spanking. As the saying goes: Spanking; I’m a big fan. I do think though, that too much time and effort is wasted on analyzing the whys and hows of spanking. Either you enjoy spanking, top, bottom or both; or you don’t. I don’t actually go out of my way to eat Brussels sprouts, but I don’t mind them. If that’s how you feel about spanking, then you’re not a spanko.

Nothing wrong with that. Spanking is not a litmus test for D/s. You can be submissive and never be spanked. Boundaries are there for a reason. On the other hand, just because you enjoy being spanked doesn’t mean you are submissive. A real zealot [I’m just a wannabe] insists on strict rules and has zero tolerance for deviation. That’s not me. Spanking should always have at its core, a feeling of naughty fun.

Happy Spanking!!!!!!

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

Y is for Yes

Yes: Old English gēse, gīse, probably from an unrecorded phrase meaning ‘may it be so.’

Da, Ja, Oui, Si, Ha, Ya, Hai and many others represent a simple, yet very complex word. Yes is not simply the opposite of no. In BDSM, yes is actually a physical representation of the dichotomy between Dominance and submission.

“Yes, I want you to spank me.” is a more difficult state of mind than: “Do you want me to spank you?” requiring a yes in response. Both of those however, are more difficult for a submissive that simply hearing; “I’m going to spank you now.” or, even better, “Bend over. Now.”

The latter two statements are not a result of saying yes, but rather, having a D/s relationship that includes a default “yes” as the primary driver of action. For a Dominant, the assumption is — unless otherwise negotiated — that yes, once given, is permanently in place and therefore consent is not needed again. The submissive in this case will likely get… cheesed off by his/her Dom/me constantly asking for permission to proceed. Nothing kills the mood faster than “Are you okay, honey? Is your butt too sore?”

Domly confidence is the ultimate aphrodisiac. So says 4 out of 5 subs. 🙂

Confidence is not arrogance though. Nor stupidity. Or cruelty. Or just being a bloody stupid wanker who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a bare bottom. In those cases, yes means no, and fuck no! is an always appropriate response. Don’t be taken in by slick lines and thick wallets. Yes maybe fine for a one-night stand, but in the long-term, getting to yes means finding out what triggers the no. If the nos outweigh the yeses, it’s time for a rethink.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

X is for Xenophile

This is a made-up word. You would have thought some fusty man embarking on a Grand Tour would have created this several centuries ago, but it is a fairly recent word as vocabulary goes.

Xenophile: an individual who is attracted to foreign peoples, manners, or cultures. 1922: from Greek, from xeno– + –phile, first usage 1948 in current definition.

I want to concentrate on culture though; specifically the BDSM culture.

First though, a side trip into anthropology.

Most “experts” would state that somewhere between 100 and 300 individuals comprise the optimum human village or tribe. Any less, and the group will not remain viable long-term and any more, the individual gets lost in the mass. This group is considered family, or at the very least, close friends. Once the numbers spiral past 300, the excess become strangers or foreigners.

The internet was supposed to allow/permit humans to transcend the biological ties of blood and place by finding individuals and groups that shared similar interests and hobbies. But instead of highlighting those similarities and bringing peaceful interactions, the internet has created a harsh forum whereby all the actual differences are used as weapons against anything foreign, whether nations or people.

BDSM is no different. Each of us has a level of comfort, of experience, of desire and of longing to find that “perfect” partner/s to quell the yearning in our kinky souls. Yes, the internet has facilitated the linking of like-minded kinksters from around the world, but being attracted to the D/s culture is no guarantee you, as an individual, will be allowed entrée into the rarefied stratus of the discerning beau monde of BDSM.

Millions of friends on social media, do not a culture make. Some would argue that the maximum number of people you can have a close and meaningful relationship with, is only four. Higher that that, the connections become ever more tenuous. Being attracted to foreign cultures, manners or peoples, raises the salient question: What does being foreign even mean? We are all foreigners.

Often even to our neighbors, co-workers or family.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

W is for Wonderful

Wonderful: inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous.

If that’s not a definition for how a jolly good spanking feels, then I don’t know what else comes close. 🙂

I do realize that defining spanking, D/s or all-out BDSM as wonderful, likely causes a few eyebrows to twerk. But I respectively submit that a bottom, bared for chastisement, does indeed ‘inspire delight’ and the feel and sound of palm spanking fulsome cheeks is a source of great ‘pleasure’ for both parties involved. One can feel ‘admiration’ for how wonderfully a willing submissive takes a good, hard thrashing; while the reverse is certainly true as the Dom is rewarded for their expertise with sexual favors given in admiring gratitude. An ‘extremely good’ spanking is a ‘marvelous’ thing of beauty that rivals any masterwork displayed in a museum.

In this day and age of instant gratification, and the tsunami of information available with a few clicks and swipes, there is good reason to turn off the devices, draw the curtains, and spend some quality time over-the-knee contemplating all the wonderful things in your life and relationships. Connecting through spanking and D/s is a time-honored tradition and one that is both solemn and silly. So embrace both and enjoy the wonder of D/s. Happy Spanking everyone.

Wonder: Old English wundor (noun), wundrian (verb), of Germanic origin; related to Dutch wonder and German Wunder, of unknown ultimate origin.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

V is for Violent

A violent thunderstorm. A violent earthquake. A violent eruption.

A violent spanking?

Using or involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something. Middle English (in the sense ‘having a marked or powerful effect’): via Old French from Latin violent– ‘vehement, violent.’

To non-practitioners, BDSM is often linked with domestic violence. To many, there is no possible consent when it comes to using physical force intended to hurt. Yes, spankings hurt. So do floggings, canings, whippings, paddlings, tawsings, and the occasional wooden spoon and other handy household implements. But intending to hurt, depends on the intent. Simply stating “please spank me”, does not give anyone the right to do so in a reckless and violent manner. D/s is a serious business.

I don’t think anyone who loves BDSM would consider themselves or what they do to be violent. By the strictness of definitions, a spanking involves force whether by hand over-the-knee or tied to a bench and caned. Unless the spanked doesn’t have a functioning nervous system, then it will hurt to some degree depending on the boundaries previously established and the level of consent given by all involved parties. Having said that, the intersection between hurting violence and damaging violence is where a consensual relationship meets law enforcement.

It is never alright to force someone into submitting against their will. It is never alright to physically or mentally abuse someone without their knowing consent and cooperation. It is never alright to be violent for violence’s sake.

And lastly: Self-violence may be a sign of serious health issues and should not be taken lightly.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

U is for Unstable

Two of the most powerful forces in the universe are chaos and entropy. When it comes to D/s, it often seems that those forces are the only ones that matter. When combined, chaos and entropy lead to the inclination to simply give up and stop trying. Being unstable is a physical law of systems both comprehensible and complex, and the most challenging of those is likely the human brain.

Unstable: prone to psychiatric problems or sudden changes of mood. Middle English: from Anglo-Norman French, from Latin stabilis, from the base of stare ‘to stand.’ Un-: Old English, of Germanic origin; from an Indo-European root shared by Latin in- and Greek a- .

We are all unstable in some way. Internally we often feel inadequate or outright fraudulent when going through our daily lives. We crave stability, but tend to be knocked around by events not within our control. Even our own moods and mind seem to spin like a galaxy no matter how disciplined we pretend we are. You can certainly put forth the argument that the ‘natural’ state of being for humans, is to be unstable. A blissful and centered existence is the unicorn here.

So the question perhaps is: Are those involved in BDSM more or less unstable than the mean? And what is the mean? If everyone is prone to some level of psychiatric problems, then what use is the word normal? Or: Are sudden mood changes helped with a healthy dose of discipline? Does D/s cure instability?

I haven’t posted in three months. Haven’t written a word. Felt unstable, often extremely so every day. It’s a struggle, and at some point, I may finally learn to stop wrestling with my reflection because neither of us can pin the other. I guess that’s the entire point of D/s.

Surrender.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

T is for Tormented

Middle English (as both noun and verb referring to the infliction or suffering of torture): from Old French torment (noun), tormenter (verb), from Latin tormentum ‘instrument of torture,’ from torquere ‘to twist.’

Tormented serves as a very ‘good’ word for my recent state of mind. I haven’t written anything in months. Haven’t commented. Haven’t cared about much of anything. For some reason every year I forget how I feel about The Holidays. In simple terms: I hate them.

Beginning before Halloween and lasting until the New Year, all my self-doubt and -loathing get all twisted up with memories and emotions that have never been settled, never mind with any permanent closure. It doesn’t help that my other personalities have different desires; some (as in Rose) love the hype and color and social doings and would be partying every night if I let her. Some of the others that lived before me, and more importantly lived through the trauma, roll their eyes at her and want to stay in their rooms until spring. But, having to work ‘nearly’ full-time in order to keep a roof over our heads and the larder stocked, means that five days a week I have to grit my teeth, force all my feelings back into the closet and do my best to survive. Plus, being my wife’s caretaker can get stressful.

None of that feeds my creativity. I’m never been someone that uses adversity to strive for change. I tend to pull back and curl up into myself. My only escape is to read. Or YouTube; but I won’t blame my depression on that addiction. I/We have always been depressed to some degree, but medication doesn’t work and therapy became a crutch. I don’t really want to be tormented all the time, but I don’t know how to stop.

Lest you think this is self-pity or a ‘woe-is-me’ diatribe… it’s not. Rose slaps me upside the head (well, inside the head. So to speak.) whenever I wallow. As she points out — and I know — there are billions of people on this Earth who can’t fathom the luxury and security of my lifestyle. I just get stuck. Internally. I can counsel someone else quite readily but when it comes to introspection, I suck. I don’t blame anyone. I accept full responsibility for my lack… of many things.

This was not what I intended to write today, but it needs to be said. I write when I feel like it, not to make a living. To some of you, that undoubtably disqualifies me from the Authors Guild, but that’s okay. The pen maybe mightier than the sword, but in my case, at least it doesn’t serve as a tormentum. I’ve got my mind serving that post.

And it is a very, very competent torturer.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

S is for Savage

If you were Roman, you had a love/hate relationship with the wilderness. On the one hand, there were Silvanus — woodland deities — but then there was the Teutoburg Forest. The natural world was not something to be trusted or admired, only an obstacle to or opportunity for wealth. Thus the root Latin word of silva — a wood — gave us both the modern English word ‘sylvan’ [conjuring vistas of misty woody hills and frolicking fauna] and ‘savage’ whose definition is both lengthy and traumatizing.

Middle English: from Old French sauvage ‘wild,’ from Latin silvaticus ‘of the woods,’ from silva ‘a wood.’

adjective (of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled.
• cruel and vicious; aggressively hostile
• (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) primitive; uncivilized.
• (of a place) wild-looking and inhospitable; uncultivated.
• (of something bad or negative) very great; severe:
noun (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) a member of a people regarded as primitive and uncivilized.
• a brutal or vicious person
verb (especially of a dog or wild animal) attack ferociously and maul
• subject to a vicious verbal attack; criticize brutally

Thanks to Hollywood, the image of shrieking warriors in little clothing and painted bodies charging innocent colonizers [ie. eco-tourists] who just happened to be white, nearly always male — except when helpless females were being threatened by the savage natives — and standing up for truth, justice and the way of the gun; we have a deep-rooted social bias towards those that live alternative lifestyles or off the land.

Naturists [as they preferred to be called] are considered perverts at best, secret pedophiles at worst. Vegans and the many off-shoots of vegetarianism that have evolved through the millenniums, are labeled with numerous unflattering and oftentimes hostile epithets. Environmentalists are flat out accused of lying in order to push their alleged agenda of destroying civilization if not outright extermination of the human race.

And outside of fiction, any savage who would physically strike another person is obviously a threat to the general public and should locked up as a primitive being. Unless you’re a boxer. Or a martial artist. Or an athlete in a contact sport. Or involved in consensual BDSM.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

R is for Ridiculous

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.” Indicating contempt.
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing happened.” Indicating exasperation.
“Why would you even consider doing such a ridiculous thing?” Indicating disbelief.

All three of these sentences could be about anything at all, but for the sake of this essay, let us assume the subject matter involves spanking.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. You want to be spanked? That’s just stupid.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing happened. I would never spank someone, no matter how badly they behaved.”
“Why would you even consider doing such a ridiculous thing? Spanking is so perverse and degrading.”

Ridiculous: deserving or inviting derision or mockery; absurd – mid 16th cent.: from Latin ridiculosus, from ridiculus ‘laughable,’ from ridere ‘to laugh.’

Is BDSM ridiculous as described in the definition above? Deserving derision or mockery? Absolutely not. Inviting the same? Wellllllll. Like every human endeavor, there is always a hint of the absurd lurking in the not so distant background. However, it is also the case, that only those involved, deeply involved in a particular activity, are allowed self-mockery. Spanking is a serious business: except when it’s not. If you’re not a spanko, you’re never understand the need — the craving — for the burning heat, and orgasmic submission that spanking can engender in the parties concerned.

What is ridiculous is how often we humans feel the need to poke our digits in other’s private lives. It’s absurd that my welfare could be endangered by consensual BDSM practiced halfway around the globe. [That’s ‘globe’ as in the Earth, not globe as in an arse.] Personally, I feel that if more people gave spanking a try, they’d discover that life doesn’t have to be a dreary slog towards the inevitable end. Carpe diem, and all that. Get that slogan off your shirt and back where it belongs. Over a knee and loving every smack.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

Q is for Quixotic

Having a lifestyle of BDSM can seem at times to be like ’tilting at windmills’. This phrase as well as the word ‘quixotic’ derive from the novel, El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha, published in two parts by the Spanish author Cervantes in 1605 and 1615. There are currently 22 English translations beginning in 1612 and the most recent, in 2011. Most readers are familiar with the truncated title, Don Quixote.

The hero of this romance — a satirical account of chivalric beliefs and conduct — Don Quixote is a character that has a romantic and naive unworldly idealism. Thus giving quixotic its definition: exceedingly idealistic; unrealistic and impractical.

It is after all, exceedingly idealistic that the general public will ever accept BDSM as a normal and healthy variant of romance. It is also unrealistic and impractical to agitate for PDAs [public displays of affection] to include spankings in grocery stores, anal plug insertions during staff meetings or nipple clamping during an opera intermission. Stories about fundraisers involving sexy calendar shoots are just that, fantasies. And yes, there are locales that have public BDSM during a festival setting, but obscenity statutes still are enforced.

But I venture to state that many of those who ‘venture’ into BDSM, do so out of a longing to conduct themselves in a more formal manner. Chivalric even. Being beholden to a Lord, or Mistress, who takes away the stress of day-to-day romance and codifies behavior into strict protocol with seemingly harsh consequences for errors of submission and omission. Punished for minor lapses in order to forestall major mistakes. It may seem naive to outsiders to willingly submit and surrender control of self to someone whip-in-hand, but that submission comes from strength, not weakness, and certainly not, unworldly idealism.

Tilting at windmills may indeed give a knight’s lance a strenuous workout, but the giants are real. Those monsters that seek to devour and conquer through fear and violence. The world doesn’t need more dictators strutting on the stage, but more Don Quixotes would be very welcome. Only this time, let there be spanking.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

P is for Prurient

Prurient: having or encouraging an excessive interest in sexual matters — is a word passed down from Latin unchanged in spelling, and nearly so in definition.

Purient, late 16th cent. (in the sense ‘having a mental itching’): from Latin prurient– ‘itching, longing’ and ‘being wanton,’ from the verb prurire– ‘itch, tingle’ ‘I long for’.

This word shows that — despite the preference for visual cues — the largest and most dominant sex organ is the brain. The ‘mental itching’ we feel varies upon individual triggers, but it’s the longing that causes arousal, not the other way around. After all, if you are sightless, imagination is what engorges your clitoris.

But who decided that excessive interest in sexual matters was a bad thing? Is being wanton such a threat to society that the Romans [not known for restraint] needed to separate the sensation of attraction to a potential sex partner, from the action of intercourse? Reproduction [not the ‘fake’ authentic antiquities peddled by the roadside] has always been controlled by DNA, despite the best efforts of despots, religion and fanatics to sanctify the process through the dubious institution of male/female marriage. I say dubious, because marriage should be a private matter untrammeled by bureaucracy of any flavor. If hand-fasting worked for the Scots, you shouldn’t require a license to wed your lover.

Certainly the rise of the internet has given new life to prurient behavior with unlimited excesses at your fingertips 24/7/365; but on the balance, I would argue that more people have been helped than harmed by the flood of sexual information now available. Yes there are lots of bad things and evil people online, but they already existed in real-life. But for every stalker or troll, there are thousands if not millions of LBGTQT+ persons who have finally found affirmation that they are not damaged, not defective, not diseased for being who they are. They are normal people for longing for someone other than the accepted binary coupling. It’s not prurient: it’s natural.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

O is for Obscene

Obscene speech is not protected speech, per the United States Supreme Court in 1957. Nor are obscene actions in public, and in many locales in private, protected either. The most famous case still remains, Jacobellis v. Ohio, decided June 22nd, 1964 in favor of the defendant that the screening of The Lovers, was not obscene. Included in the judgement, which makes for interesting reading is this:

3. The test for obscenity is “whether to the average person, applying contemporary community standards, the dominant theme of the material taken as a whole appeals to prurient interest.” Roth v. United States , 354 U.S. 476 :1957:. Pp. 191-195.
(a) A work cannot be proscribed unless it is “utterly without redeeming social importance,” and hence material that deals with sex in a manner that advocates ideas, or that has literary or scientific or artistic value or any other form of social importance, may not be held obscene and denied constitutional protection.

In 1973, the Supreme Court further refined, in Miller v. California, the definition of obscenity from that of “utterly without socially redeeming value” *see 3a above* to that which lacks “serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value”.

But lets go back to the beginning.

The word ‘scene’ comes from the mid 16th cent. (denoting a subdivision of a play, or (a piece of) stage scenery): from Latin scena, from Greek skēnē ‘tent, stage.’ The prefix ob-, is directly Latin, meaning: ‘toward, against, in the way of.’

Combined however, ‘obscene’ arrives later in the 16th cent.: from French obscène or Latin obscaenus ‘ill-omened or abominable.’ In modern English, ‘obscene’ has two definitions. 1. (of the portrayal or description of sexual matters) offensive or disgusting by accepted standards of morality and decency. 2. Offensive to moral principles; repugnant.

But the true root of ‘obscene’ is this explanation. To be ob “off of” the standards of the scaenus “the Theatre stage”. In other words, miss your mark, fumble a line, act in a way unbecoming to the profession of acting, and you are obscaenus.

Is acting out BDSM obscene? Are spanking blogs obscene? Nudity? Are the things we [meaning those that write, speak, show the human body in a sexual manner] project to the public truly obscene? Is it really the court’s job to mandate how each person lives their life? To me, there are a lot of obscene things on the world stage; what consenting adults do or say or exhibit in a sexual way in public or private, is not one of them.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

N is for Naughty

There are certain word pairs in the English language that automatically go together. Bacon and eggs, milk and cookies, fish and chips… it seems that many of them are food. But the pair I’m thinking about is:

Naughty and giggles.

Think about it. Say ‘naughty’ out loud. Are you grinning? Smirking at least? There is something so satisfying about doing something, or simply being, well, naughty. The fact that naughty boys and girls get spanked by their Doms and Dommes is merely icing on the cake for the kinky spankos of the world.

Being naughty is also how most — if not all — of us got interested in BDSM. Looking up spanking in the dictionary. Playing with dolls or soldiers and punishing them for various nefarious deeds. Realizing that rope is useful for far more than skipping or that a spatula creates a lingering sting. Discovering that secret and furtive masturbation is much more explosive when fantasizing about being taken-in-hand, or taking the hand to a supple bottom, or two or three. ‘Don’t be naughty!’ is one of the first phrases we learn to obey when young, and depending on the upbringing, one that can sink deep hooks into our psyche.

When it comes to D/s, any conversation that brings it up, not matter how obliquely, is likely to result in stammers and blushes. After all, is there anything more naughty than sitting with friends discussing sex and spanking? How embarrassing to know that your family and/or friends now know you’re a submissive, and that your Significant Other is fully empowered to discipline you at any time. Why, they probably think you’ve got a flaming sore bottom right at this moment! How… Naughty!

But you see, I like to spank my Naughty Girl, not because I can [of course I want to as often as possible] but because she wants me to spank her. And if she’s honest, she’d admit, even if only to herself, that she needs to be spanked. So even though adult spanking can be done because somebody was naughty and needs a sharp lesson in behavior, it also can be done as foreplay, or even spanking to orgasm. So when your naughty submissive starts giggling, it’s past time to put them over your knee and treat their bottom to some loving, albeit naughty smacking.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

M is for Miserable

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

late Middle English: from French misérable, from Latin miserabilis ‘pitiable,’ from miserari ‘to pity,’ from miser ‘wretched.’

To quote the great bard himself {Mr. T} “I pity the fool.” It’s hard to say if more people believe that those involved in BDSM are wretched and depraved individuals, or pitiable for being trapped in a cycle of domination and submissiveness. To us however, the ones who love D/s and understand that the “dark folds of life” are not an excuse, being miserable is simply part of the reality.

To love someone is always risky. Even if you live — or attempt to live — in a 24/7 D/s relationship(s), it is never, and never will be, perfect. If you are always yearning for the next spanking, or dissecting the previous flogging, you will also likely always be feeling inadequate and pitiful.

“Was I enough?”
“I’m too fat.”
“I’m too thin.”
“I don’t know why he/she stays with me.”
“I always fuck things up.”
“I’m not good enough.”
“I hate my thighs: butt: breasts : penis.”

Just kidding, no guy ever has hated his little buddy: a no more accurate algorithm has ever been created. Of course, it’s also incredibly stupid, but maybe that’s a lesson. A penis {or a search engine} is never miserable, as long as it gets to come frequently.

Which loops back to the top. I pity the fool that wallows in misery, not from contempt, but from compassion. As this author knows all too well, being miserable feels great at first, but always leaves me empty and with an aching heart.

I’d much rather love. Which I do. Which I am in. Always.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

L is for Libidinous, Lascivious, Licentious, Lubricious

And these [not even including Lewd, Lecherous or Lustful] are all bad things?

Libidinous: showing excessive sexual drive; lustful.
Lascivious: (of a person, manner, or gesture) feeling or revealing an overt and often offensive sexual desire.
Licentious: promiscuous and unprincipled in sexual matters.
Lubricious: offensively displaying or intended to arouse sexual desire.

What all four have in common, besides coming from Latin, is that they reached Middle English around the time the Protestant Reformation was nailed to the door and the Church of England broke anyway from Rome. Considering that literacy was very limited at the time and predominately the bailiwick of religious orders, along with clerks attached to the Crown(s) and upper nobility, the need for specialized new words describing well-established sexual behavior seems a bit odd on the surface. Like most of human history though, it all revolves around controlling wombs. Creating a sense of shame, fear and guilt over natural urges was the most efficient way [short of a harem or convent] to keep women subjugated. No culture ever, has successfully legislated morality. Rulers pick morals; the masses cheerfully ignore them. Makes clerics pull out their hair with frustration: when they’re not abusing their underage flock of course.

Does an interest in or practicing BSDM cause libidinous, lascivious, licentious or lubricious behavior, or does behaving in a libidinous, lascivious, licentious or lubricious manner lead someone towards the forbidden temptation of BDSM? If a female acts in a sensual way, she’s labeled a slut, a whore, a fallen woman or a home-wrecker. A man is called a rake, a bounder, a player or a sower of wild oats. {Have to get that DNA spread as wide as possible} Is this a double standard? *Insert wild laughter*

How many of you reading this have had to overcome an upbringing that treated all things sex as a ‘bad’ thing unless married and then only for procreation? In your current relationship(s), does D/s help or hinder your actions in sexual terms? Do you ‘own’ your body now, in the sense of empowered to maximize your pleasure? How large a role does guilt play in spanking? Does being ‘turned-on’ immediately create shame and doubt?

I ask these questions not to elicit comments, but to start a conversation amongst yourselves about your personal feelings in terms of sexual… randiness. I don’t believe being horny is a crime; the crime comes from forcing your lubricious attentions on the unwilling.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

K is for Karma

Karma derives from the Sanskrit karman, which is a philosophy and word at least 5,500 years old. In English, the first usage was in 1827 brought to Europe as a result of the British rule in parts of India. The proper definition of karma is: “the sum of a person’s actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences.” There are parallels in Western thought, primarily phrases such as: What goes around, comes around. Reap what you sow. Treat others as you desire to be treated yourself. They all have roots in religion and serve as parables pointing out the dangers of being a jerk; as in what [if anything] comes after life is determined by how you behaved towards others.

So is there a Golden Rule in BDSM?

Well, deciding that would be like herding cats; frustrating and ultimately futile. Every single person has their own idea of what is correct behavior according to their own experiences and expectations. But for the most part, ‘karma’, is used as a negative in conversation in order to justify an event as deserved. “Did you hear what happened? That’s karma for you.”

So if someone tells you they are interested in exploring D/s, where does karma fit into the equation? If you are a Dom, is it positive karma or negative if you spank someone at their request? If you are a sub, does instigating a paddling by bratting mean your karma took a hit for deliberately being naughty? What are the degrees of karma when it comes to domination and submission? Who gains and who loses?

I don’t believe BDSM [done right {and don’t get me started on what constitutes right}] is a zero-sum game. On the contrary; when involved in any aspect of D/s in any intensity or scope, the more attuned the partners are to each other’s needs, the more ‘good’ karma is gained. Giving or receiving pleasure and pain should be about selflessly serving a loved one without requiring reciprocation.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

J is for Jaded

Sometime in the 14th century, the word ‘jade’ was coined to define a horse that was broken-down, vicious, or worthless. By 1524, that had expanded to a verb meaning: “to wear out by overwork or abuse.” It quickly morphed from there to include a disreputable woman or rarely a flirtatious girl as a ‘jade’. The verb added the sense of “being worn out” via the equine definition in 1600, and then became ‘jaded’ meaning: “made dull, apathetic, or cynical by experience or by having or seeing too much of something.” by 1630.

Considering the life expectancy in the UK during that time was around 35, with likely 40% of the population dying before reaching adulthood, one wonders how anyone could have experienced such ennui as to need an entirely new vocabulary describing the human tendency to become easily bored. Perhaps it had more to do with Henry VIII and Elizabeth I and the vicious politics surrounding their courts, than tinkers and farmers struggling to survive.

Becoming jaded is the bane of BDSM. At the beginning, you’re all fired up to play and explore and test your stamina through convoluted games and scenarios. Life is marvelous and every new implement or toy simply sends the endorphins even higher. At some point though, you reach a plateau, that place where responding is a struggle, and finding time isn’t worth the trouble. Family and friends make demands and and your Dom’s commands lack zest. So you rest, and ponder if D/s is worth the tests. Stress rises until you feeling like shouting, but resort to pouting when all you need is a damn good spanking to snap you out of your funk.

But if that’s all D/s means to you, physical sensations and humiliating placations, then the seething emotions are not firmly planted in love and respect. For how can you be jaded when every devious smirk and sly touch sends your pulse pounding and clothes flying? Each encounter is unique, each growl is the very first time you felt submissive. Being jaded means you’re not connected to the now, to the essence of D/s in which you dance with your partner(s) in an intricate waltz of call and response.

Stop what you’re doing and look at each other. What do you feel? Make your choices, make them well.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

I is for Indignant

Two things came to mind when I picked this word. The first being the childhood mantra we all utter at some point: “It’s not fair!” The second being a distinctive sniff followed by: “Well. I never!”

Both phrases encompass the definition, but one is inward and the other not. (Feeling or showing anger or annoyance at what is perceived as unfair treatment.) While it’s true that unfair treatment — perceived or otherwise — is a staple of growing up, by the time we reach adulthood, that anger is more often directed at causes than at personal circumstances. Interestingly, the root word from Latin is spelled the same and stems from ‘not worthy’ as indignus, to ‘regarding as unworthy’ as indignant. The problem is of course, what defines as unfair? While we cling to the notion that justice is blind, humans are most certainly not and given any issue, you’ll find indignant people on all sides.

Is BDSM unfair? Typically you have a Top and bottom, or Dom and sub, and that appears on the surface to be inherently unbalanced; even cruel. But you can’t be indignant about BDSM or those that partake in the lifestyle unless you can prove it’s abusive, illegal or unjust. You may be personally offended by spanking, or bondage etc, but claiming indignation on behalf of the perceived ‘victims’ of D/s, falls well short of any legal proof of harm. If you’re indignant over tattoos, piercings, baggy pants, loud music or any other aspect of someone’s appearance or activities, then you are using the word incorrectly.

There is a darker side to being indignant though, and that links to the emotions of both Dom and sub when they feel unworthy of each other. When self-confidence wavers — or does not exist — the discipline and domination that is the hallmark of D/s, can turn toxic in an instant. What was agreed upon treatment becomes unfair. What was a partnership, becomes two hostile camps and the bonds are dissolved. BDSM is not static, and if you find yourself indignant due to actions by your Dom or sub, it is past time for a frank conversation about needs and wants.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

H is for Horrendous

It should come as no surprise that horrendous comes from the same root word as, horrible, horrid, horrific and horror. That word is horrere, Latin meaning: ‘tremble, shudder, (of hair) stand on end.’ The contemporary definition is: ‘extremely unpleasant, horrifying, or terrible.’

Hair standing on end though can result from many different things. Fright, yes, but also emotions such as awe, arousal, happiness and the awareness of being attracted to someone. For many, that feeling occurred the first time they realized an aspect of BDSM was the missing piece in their life. What happened from there depends on whether or not — horrendous — is as negative as its definition.

Extremely unpleasant: not only unpleasant, but extremely. That seems a bit… extreme. Horrifying: that seems a bit more understandable, considering how successful roller-coasters and horror movies have always been. Terrible: a little weak; a meal can be terrible as can a traffic jam.

When it comes to D/s, the area I like to focus on is spanking. Straightforward, over-the-knee, skirt up, panties down spanking. Can that experience ever be called horrendous? 🙄 Of course it can, ladies and gentleman of all persuasions. {Keep in mind always, that I only write about consensual spanking between legal adults in the jurisdiction of your domicile.} Grabbing someone and flailing away as if trying to swat a mosquito seldom leads to a happy ending. A spanking received by someone who is clueless and unaware of the nuances can be extremely unpleasant.

By the same token, a spanking delivered by a “professional” — any Dom in good-standing may rightly claim this address — can also be extremely unpleasant when circumstances warrant. The difference is that in this case, the recipient knows full well they deserved a ‘damn good thrashing’ and can count themselves fortunate that the chastisement wasn’t longer and harder.

There is nothing more horrifying than your Dom stating, quite calmly and pragmatically, the whys, wheres and hows of your transgression and then pointing out, “you’ve earned every stroke with your — fill-in-the-blank — behavior.” Your stomach starts flip-flopping and you break out in a fine sheen while you grow light-headed. The top of the hill grows ever closer and the terrible realization that you have no choice but to go over the edge has your heart pounding.

When it’s over, and the closing ceremony is complete, you look back, rubbing your sore cheeks, and bite your lip, wondering when you can experience this crazy, wild, horrendous feeling of helplessness and terror all bound together with arousal and acceptance that always leaves you a bit more in love and a lot more submissive than when you first stated an interest in BDSM.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

G is for Grotesque

 

“BDSM is Grotesque.”

A rather jarring headline, don’t you think? Sweeping in its condemnation and wholly without supporting documentation. A phrase that fits well in the fractured media of today. Allow me to don my lecturing fedora.

Like Baroque, Grotesque was originally created to describe a style of artwork. From Old Italian — (pittura) grottesca — simply meant ‘cave painting’, or ‘(Roman) pictures found in a grotto.’ Via Middle French and first recorded in English in 1561, the primary definition of the noun version of Grotesque is: a style of decorative art characterized by fanciful or fantastic human and animal forms often interwoven with foliage or similar figures that may distort the natural into absurdity, ugliness, or caricature.

The adjective arrived in 1603, and for our purposes matches up with the third of three definitions: of, relating to, or having the characteristics of the grotesque: departing markedly from the natural, the expected, or the typical.

Few would argue that Gothic architecture and 1960s concrete office buildings are both grotesque, yet they also have a beauty of form and function. BDSM is another such edifice; appearing to be strange, ugly — even frightening viewed from the outside and judged solely on appearances. The caricature of BDSM has found its high culture in Gor (even though the first Gor novel was published in 1966 and the term ‘BDSM’ was not in print until 1991) and that series is used as a whipping girl to label all D/s as perverse.

But again, if D/s departs ‘markedly’ from the natural, what exactly is being used to determine said ‘natural’ behavior? In statistics, there are two ways of measuring groups of numbers. The first is an average — adding all numbers and dividing by the total of entries — and the mean, which is taking that total number of entries and finding the point of equality with the same amount above as below. In other words, the average of 1, 5, 10, 12 and 99 is 25.4, but the mean is 10. That matters a whole lot when talking about the 1%, or the poverty line, or how many personal automobiles the average household owns. If the average participant in BDSM enjoys spanking, where does the mean fall when spanking is all over the place culturally?

Lastly, I like to think that grotesque can be utilized as a term of endearment. After all, most of us in D/s proudly claim the banner of being different. “Darling, your expertise with the paddle is grotesquely arousing. When can we do it again?”

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

F is for Fragility

“Move fast and break things” was quoted in Business Insider, October 1, 2009 during an interview with Mark Zuckerberg. The full quote is actually: “Unless you are breaking stuff, you are not moving fast enough.”

Time has shown the fallacy of that business model. [Not let it be said from a profitability standpoint]; but from the collateral damage to trust, truth and the overall well-being of the public. In fact, if there is one quote that can confidently be shown as the antithesis of how BDSM should work, it is Zuckerberg’s infamous mantra.

People are fragile, you need not but read the latest tragedy to realize that fact. Physical weakness aside though, it is in relationships where the worst cracks can appear caused by careless words and deeds. The care and feeding of D/s does not prosper when moving fast and breaking hearts.

On the other hand, fragility is not an ordained state of being for a submissive. One of the oft stated phrases might even be, “Go ahead, spank me harder, I won’t break.” And that brings up the key point in all this. Living a D/s lifestyle does not equate to tip-toeing around the fact that we’re fragile creatures. It requires an honest assessment of when and how fast to move so that the needs of all participants are being met. For the fragility of Doms is a truth often overlooked, and that is something that many are loath to admit.

Fragile: late 15th cent. (in the sense ‘morally weak’): from Latin fragilis, from frangere ‘to break.’ The sense ‘liable to break’ dates from the mid 16th cent.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

E is for Enraged

It’s been written that the English language has a word for everything. What doesn’t exist, is simply borrowed from another culture. The root of the most common words and phrases is Latin; that ‘dead’ language of science, medicine and diplomacy. Consider the following statement:

“The enraged supporters of _____ rave about _____ glowing pronouncements while foaming at the mouth with rabid vitriol directed upon those in opposition to their hero.”

Enrage: late 15th cent. (formerly also as inrage): from French enrager, from en– ‘into’ + rage ‘rage, anger.’

Rage: Middle English (also in the sense ‘madness’): from Old French rage (noun), rager (verb), from a variant of Latin rabies [late 16th cent.: from rabere ‘rave.’]

As the etymology above shows, enraged, rabid and rave, all stem from the same source. “Foaming at the mouth” is a physical description of a symptom of rabies, and as a descriptive phrase, means someone or someones caught in the grip of a maddening and uncontrollable rage.

Ignorance is bliss, comes from the poet Thomas Gray, who in 1742, wrote the poem, “Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Eton College“. The final two lines read:
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
‘Tis folly to be wise.

‘Twould be folly indeed to discount the enraged diatribes of wise elders. Except of course, when those fulminations are directed at oneself. We are, after all, enraged too.

While BDSM attracts its share of abuse, nothing — not the economy, religion, sports, politics — raises the ire of so many, as same-sex relationships. Spanking is now seen as a ‘safe’ kink, as is the mild bondage represented by furry handcuffs. Cosplay has made it to the mainstream thanks to video games and superheros. But while girl-on-girl action is a revered meme of pornography, IRL [in-real-life], lesbians are considered a threat to the moral fabric of society. There is nothing worse than two women in a sexual tryst, especially when they have the gall to get married!

“The evil that was unleashed in the Garden Of Eden has reached its deepest depravity in the travesty of perversity of so-called women’s emancipation.”

What’s that you say? There is worse than sapphic lust? Men? Together? In a non-binary opposing gender state? Gay?

Thus do the torches kindle, and banners unfurl, and marchers chant slogans of rage and violence towards those deemed enemies of the natural order. We all have a choice in how we react to the day’s events. While being enraged may feed the beast within, it seldom ends well for those infected with rabid hatred.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

D is for Disgusting

Disgust dates from the late 16th cent.: from early modern French desgoust or Italian disgusto, from Latin dis– (expressing reversal) + gustus ‘taste.’

Reversal of taste. An interesting concept. What is taste? Foremost it is the ability to discern food and beverages that are pleasing to the palate — which is itself a derivation of taste. When we say someone has ‘good taste’, we are not talking about a specific item to eat, but more of a sophisticated and civilized style of life. Someone who is glamorous, elegant, discerning. Someone who thinks IKEA is beyond the pale. To whom farm-to-table involves helicopters and couriers.

So how does this relate to BDSM?

“That’s disgusting!”
“What a disgusting habit!”
“You’re the most disgusting person!”
“Why do you read those disgusting blogs?”

I doubt anybody anywhere has ever said to someone involved in a D/s relationship that they have good taste. Outside the community that is. I’m talking about parents, relatives, co-workers; people that may equate fetishes to disgusting. Male penis in female vagina is normal: anything else is disgusting. But who decides what is in good taste? Community standards? Whose community?

To say something/someone is disgusting actually states that it is dangerous; dangerous in the way lack of taste can cause illness and even death through food poisoning. We instinctively know when food has gone off and through our upbringing and indoctrination, have expanded that wariness to all things that don’t fit the societal norm. The fact that we can’t detect someone else’s cultural norms, doesn’t even register in our minds.

“How can you eat that disgusting thing?”

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

C is for Capitulation

Definition: The action of surrendering or ceasing to resist an opponent or demand.

To many people in the modern world, capitulation is the very essence of what has gone wrong. The Borg may have droned: “Resistance is futile”, but to the angry masses, bread and circuses no longer work. The fact that political and monetary power have solidified in the hands of fewer than ever before [on a per capita basis, not absolute] makes the unwillingness to negotiate for crumbs even more pressing. The stark fact that to outsiders capitulation appears to be at the heart of BDSM: that does not make submission appear to be an attractive lifestyle.

For a female, submission is intrinsically linked to surrender. The ceasing of struggling against forces that are more powerful than the individual.

“Always keep your knees together.”
“Boys don’t make passes at girls with glasses.”
“No one wants a brainiac.”
“Sex is for marriage.”
“She’s a slut.”
“Did you see what she was wearing?”
“Everything online is perfect: you suck.”

Is it any wonder so many girls are lost?

It certainly seems counter-intuitive to claim that D/s can help a woman reclaim her power through willing capitulation, but the anecdotal evidence is compelling. What people don’t understand — both within and without the BDSM community — is that the opponent is not the Dom, it’s the Id. The part of you that reacts to stimuli and strives to blend in with the tribe you follow on Instagram. Your Dom is not demanding your surrender in order to ravage, but in order to help free the person you were before society’s mores forced an unwilling capitulation upon you.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

B is for Beaten

It is possible that some people believe the ‘B’ in BDSM, stands for ‘Beaten’. It is indubitably a harsher word than spanking, but on par with whipping, flogging, caning, scourging, and all the other delightful words humans have created to describe the act of physical chastisement. In D/s however, being beaten can describe an intricate and intimate dance. An artistic performance if you will.

“Why would you let him/her/they beat you? Are you crazy?”

Well.
No, actually. I’m quite sane.
Thank you for asking.

Beating — in whatever format it takes place — can be fun. It can be pleasurable. Or painful. For many, humiliation plays a vital role in intensifying the endorphin high. For some partner(s), being beaten is punishment. Punishment requested, often demanded, by the submissive. Being beaten cleanses the palate, clears the guilt and shame from wrong-doing. No matter what role it plays, playing a role in which beating takes center stage, allows the trust to become ever deeper.

But there is another definition more commonly utilized that explains why describing an over-the-knee, skirt up, panties down beating creates such a visceral reaction in relation to D/s. It is the zero-sum game we call competition. Humans are naturally competitive, but we all too often reduce that to a life-or-death equation. There can be only one winner in a contest between individuals, institutions, businesses, teams or nations.

I/we win. You lose. Nah-nah.

D/s is not a zero-sum game. (And no, I’m not talking about abuse and domestic violence.) D/s is about… well, whatever you want. Foreplay or role-play, a hobby or a lifestyle, it can be whatever you need so that all participants win.

Gold medals for everyone!

P.S. Just a thought for you: Why are male Doms viewed with suspicion, but female Dominatrices revered?

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

A is for Adversary

“One’s opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute.”

With every passing day, BDSM — consensual violence — becomes both more intriguing and controversial. To those in the so-called mainstream, BDSM is simply an excuse for patriarchal oppression cloaking hatred of women in a media-friendly guise of ritualistic violence. Certainly the top-rated streaming television shows and some movies of recent times offer up plenty of female nudity, torture and rape, all in the name of artistic prose. There is certainly no excuse for the revelations brought forth by #Metoo, nor for the feeble defense offered by those in political and legal power. Yet, the abuse and exploitation of the weaker by the stronger is a story older than human civilization. Men have always been adversaries of women.

Or have they?

Are women fragile creatures in constant need of protection and guidance? Are men ravenous beasts always seeking another hole to plunder? Is BDSM all about male pleasure and cowering females?

Those are the wrong questions. The notion that everyone is identical with identical motivations and desires is bullshit. That doesn’t stop politicians and marketers [Is there a difference?] from exploiting the fears of the unwashed masses by goading them into turning on those not of their tribe. [Tribe being a loosely defined term based on all sorts of factors.] The freaks usually get the brunt of that anger.

Even within the BDSM community, tribal boundaries make uneasy bed-fellows of participants. While it’s true that BDSM may stand stalwart at the barricades against the thunderbolts cast by vanilla hysteria, the gulf between those that enjoy spanking as foreplay and those using knives as an erotic boost is as vast as religious wars. Hyperbole? We are all guilty at times of mocking those who choose a different lifestyle.

Our fetish is normal, those other people…? Yuck!

But what if we weren’t adversaries? What if we didn’t troll someone by sneering “You’re not doing it right” or “What do you mean you’ve never tried spanking?”. What if we sought to understand each other? What if instead of turning away from our differences, we made an effort to communicate and listen? Men and women don’t have to be adversaries, anymore than ethnicity should divide neighbors into ‘us’ and ‘them’.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

The colors of submission

As a blogger, I write what I want. Fiction for the most part, some poetry and the odd essay tossed in. I never write about myself or past exploits and relationships. As a writer — for publication — I choose characters that challenge the reader and portray fantasies that seem slightly quirky. One of the unpleasant facts about erotica and BDSM, is that there is a level of censorship not given to “mainstream” fiction. It’s perfectly alright to maim, torture and murder; but, try a caning that bleeds or a flogging that bruises, and the algorithms that rule the world, bury your book at the bottom of a landfill.

One thing I do know though, is that D/s produces a rainbow of colors. Red, blue, yellow; the infinite palette of hue that is a natural, and desired, byproduct of consensual discipline. When was the last time you got spanked? Didn’t you — at the first opportunity — rush to the nearest mirror, twist your head and admire the splotchy pattern your Dom created on your butt? Wishing it was more colorful?

Did you say: “Oh my God! Look what my Dom did to me!” not with horror, but with a contented purr; proud that your Dom is so talented and knows a spanking without a bruise or two is a wasted effort? For many submissives, marks are something you wear with honor. They are visual proofs of your Dom’s devotion to your personal well-being. Why else would they take the time to stamp their dominance upon your body, if not for love?

For those not in D/s, it always comes as a shock to realize that some people crave the outward bonds that physical play often creates. To them, D/s is about degradation, anger, violence and people in need of rescue from an abusive situation. Marking someone is evil: it’s black and white.

For those of us chasing the rainbow though, the waiting — impatiently — for the colors to fade and heal; so that we can do it again, that’s the real challenge. Scars on the soul linger: bruises fade.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

The shoot at Memory Lane

This post is over the suggested word limit for Wicked Wednesday, but I hope Rebel won’t mind.

I first met missy in August, 2016, a month after she started blogging as Submissy. What attracted me to her was not so much the topic(s) discussed, but rather the erudite style of her essays and the pithy wit displayed when dissecting the tribulations of balancing D/s with a very full family life. Her posts have inspired many a response — both essays and fictional — from me and, when we have a chance to chat — which isn’t often enough, my bad — we talk about everything except D/s. A recent series of posts about dark desires, submissive triggers and the moving goal posts that is kinky behavior, led to my comment suggesting His Lordship should produce a calendar called, Twelve Months Of missy. She was properly horrified, but knowing her writings, undoubtably turned on by thought of millions of people admiring her nude body. This is for you, missy, my friend.

When missy arrived home from school and went upstairs, there was a note and a change of clothes on the bed. All were garments she wore regularly, except the underwear — a deep iridescent purple verging on black. The note read:
Tonight, one of our darkest and twisted desires shall come true. You belong to me, missy, and it is time others celebrated that fact. You have fifteen minutes to change and meet your Sir in the garage.

“My mind’s made up, missy. We’re doing this. The time for discussion is over,” His Lordship intoned as they pulled around the back of a nondescript brick building at the back block of Memory Lane Industrial Park. Pulling up to corrugated steel door and after putting the vehicle in park, he twisted his torso in the driver’s seat and tugged his submissive closer by grasping her chin. “I love you. I love your body. And I love the idea of showing you off to others. You deserve to be on display, missy, not only because you are beautiful and I am proud to be your owner, but because your dark desire for kink is even more twisted than your thick glass anal plug.”

She shivered and moaned as He firmly nipped the base of her neck where it met the shoulder. The waves of desire, panic, excitement washed over her mind and brought dampness to her core.

The door rolled up with a clatter. His Lordship drove forward into a lift. As they went down, missy’s fingernails dug into the armrest of the passenger’s side door. She jumped when the lift came to a jarring halt. The inner door opened vertically. The headlights shone into a vast dark cavern. As His Lordship slowly drove the vehicle into the open space, in the distance, could be seen a faint reflection.

She leaned against her seat belt, watching as the redness resolved into an elevated platform; carpeted steps led up to where furniture could now be clearly seen in the headlights. There was a couch in rich velvet, a leather ottoman, a wood table and a metal T-bar rack with clothes hangers. Her heart was pounding. Nothing else was visible.

His Lordship turned off the vehicle — the lights stayed on — and got out: missy heard him open the boot. It slammed shut. Her door opened, he helped her stand on her three-inch stilettos. He handed her a silver platter. She gasped seeing the cane, paddle, lube, clamps and plug. “Take this tray up the steps, missy, set in on the table, and wait for my instructions.”

Her hands were shaking. The contents rattled. The headlights went out as she placed the tray down. Utter darkness for what seemed like an eternity. Then, a single spotlight, then another until a total of four pinned her like a specimen spread-eagle under glass.

His Lordship’s amplified voice boomed and echoed. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for accepting my invitation to my submissive’s photo shoot for my calendar, Twelve Months of missy. Please feel free to comment and applaud, but do not approach the platform.”

Gripping her elbows, missy stared out into the blackness, unable to see anything. Her eyes were wide and panicked, randomly darting in every direction.
“missy,” His Lordship spoke, “remove your jacket and hang it on the rack.”
For a long moment, missy couldn’t move. Biting her lip, she forced her numb fingers to unbutton and hang up the jacket.
“Bend over, place your palms on the table.”
When she obeyed, she sensed Him appear behind her. Feeling the paddle tap, she arched her bottom instinctively. SMACK!
A bright strobe caught her expression the instant after the paddle landed.
“That’s for January, missy. Now, take off your sweater.”
She felt a deep rush of humiliation knowing what would be exposed. Still, she didn’t hesitate; his voice and commands were gradually forcing her submission.
“Stand at the back of the couch and thrust your chest forward. Show everyone your gorgeous breasts.”
The translucent blouse did nothing to hide the black bustier pushing up. The tight fit drew the eye to her erect nipples poking out an inch, tenting the white silk. SMACK! SMACK!
“February is for lovers.” This time the picture showed missy with slack mouth, tongue peeping between teeth and a strained expression of longing. “Remove the blouse, missy, then kneel on the couch and lay your bared breasts on the top edge for all to admire.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The camera captured her head tossed back as the hard blows snapped against her skirt.
“March can cause very puckered nipples, don’t you agree, missy?” There was laughter from the darkness beyond the stage as missy blushed nearly as red as the couch.
“Skirt. Off. Straddle the ottoman and flash your wet knickers to the voyeurs.” His Lordship paused as she tugged the zipper down. “They are wet, aren’t they, missy?”
The metal hangers rattled as she placed the skirt on the rack.
SMACK! “Answer the question!”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.
SMACK! “They can’t hear you.”
“YES! My knickers are wet.”
Applause rang out.
She had to squat slightly in order to spread her knees either side of the leather ottoman. All she now wore was a black bustier, seamed black stockings, her fuck-me shoes and lace hipsters. Oh, and a purple satin ribbon in her hair.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “April leads to warmer weather, and as you can clearly see, less clothing.” This month’s picture showed her from the side, breasts and buttocks quivering under the blows.
“Now then, you have two more items to remove. I think…” His Lordship tapped the paddle against his thigh as he pondered while missy’s thighs quavered with the strain of holding her position. “Bustier. Let’s free those mammary glands, shall we?”

missy felt the intent regard of — to her — hundreds of eyes watching her striptease.

“Kneel on the ottoman, hold both arms straight out and keep your bottom off your heels.” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Each paddle strike rocked her forward as she fought to stay balanced. The side effect was that her breasts bounced. If anything, her nipples were even longer and thicker. “Exercise in May, people, to go topless on the beach.”
There was a buzz of anticipation; missy could taste the desire rushing the stage. No longer afraid, she wanted to go further. She needed to have her limits pushed — no, smashed — until she could reveal her innermost fantasy made flesh.
“Stand at the edge of the stage, missy. Turn around, spread your legs shoulder-width apart, bend forward and slowly, teasingly, lower your knickers to your ankles.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The centerfold of the calendar captures the moment when the sixth impact is indenting and rippling missy’s pink bottom. What you can’t see, is her glistening pussy: that view was reserved for the punters.
“June, when nude frolicking is fun.” His Lordship set the paddle down, and picked up the cane from the platter, along with the lube and plug. “As you can see, missy is nude — mostly — and instead of taking off her stockings and heels,” he held up the anal corkscrew plug to a roar, “I am going dress my submissive in some other accouterments. Bend over the arm of the couch, missy, reach back with both hands, and spread your spanked bottom cheeks nice and wide for your favorite glass anal plug.”
The loud hiss and moans from missy’s throat as the long plug was steadily and firmly twisted deep into place, could be clearly heard by all.
“Head up, missy, while I cane you. Pretend you are sucking a cock. I want this month to show how much of an anal slut you are as well.”
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
“July is exploring new places.”
Dual close up views of missy’s bottom; red, lined with darker red, the glass end of the plug pulsing in and then out.
His Lordship reached into his pocket. “Stand up and face me, missy.” He dangled the objects from his fingers. “What are these?”
“My nipple clamps, Sir,” missy’s voice was raspy with lust.
“Lace your fingers and place your hands behind your head.”
The steel teeth bit her left nipple. The photo caught her wince.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
“August brings taut bodies.”
The steel teeth bit her right nipple.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
“September can have surprises.”
That month, the camera waited until the cane stopped snapping. Her eyes were closed, but her slack expression showed arousal.
“More clamps, missy, these are new though. Lay on the table, on your back with knees spread, pulled to your chest — just like an exam. Remember last week, missy? How hard you came when we played ‘doctor and naughty patient’?”
There was no mistaking her orgasm when His Lordship clamped a labial lip. Her passionate cries of release were tinged with pain when he placed another clamp on the opposite lip. She shrieked when the third clamp chewed her engorged clit. Those cries turned to yelps when His cane lashed her lower crease and upper thighs.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
A three-quarter view this time, the photo showed the cane tip wrapping around and sinking in. The glass end of the anal plug winked in the light. The steel clamps gleamed. Her head dangled off the end of the table, long hair flailing; mouth screaming ‘I’m coming!’.
“October, time to harvest the bounty.”
His Lordship ordered her back onto her shaky feet, temporarily. “Kneel, missy, and receive your collar.” He placed it around her neck and secured the latch. “Stand up.” When she did, he took her right wrist and wrapped it around her back, then did the same with the left. “Keep them there.” His Lordship pulled out a slender length of chain from another pocket. Attaching the y-shaped end to each nipple clamp, he drew the other end down, between her legs, to where it clamped the two labial clips together to her clit. “Walk,” he commanded missy.
When she took a step forward, the chain pulled taut between nipple and pussy. She made a little shrieking moan. SNAP!
“Keep walking, missy.” The warning was clear in his tone. With each step, the opposite clamps tugged. With each trembling stride, the cane whipped her on.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
“Crisp November, when walking for fitness is so important.”
This next-to-last picture captured a full-length side view of the torment mid-stride. The chains were pulled tight; missy’s upper inner thigh was clearly wet.
“Since the final month of the year is all about giving and receiving, missy is going to gift you with her gratitude for watching her performance.” He prodded her with the cane. “Stand on the couch, put your right leg up on the arm.”
In this position, there was no doubt missy was aroused and primed. His Lordship handed her a battery-powered vibrator. “You will come for them, missy, multiple times. Show them all what a greedy and needy slut you are. Give them all something to remember you by, every day they look at your calendar to make an appointment.”
The last twelve cane strokes were slowly paced out as missy pressed the vibrator hard against her swollen and clamped clit. She came four times as His Lordship spurred her deeper into submission.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
December’s glossy photo was a tight facial exposure of her final ecstatic explosive orgasm. As the bright strobe flared against her closed eyelids, she swooned. His Lordship caught her.

Fade to black.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Spanking With The Stars

Definition of celebrity: ORIGIN late Middle English (in the sense ‘solemn ceremony’): from Old French celebrite or Latin celebritas, from celeber, celebr- ‘frequented or honored.’

Source Wikipedia: Athletes in Ancient Greece were welcomed home as heroes, had songs and poems written in their honor, and received free food and gifts from those seeking celebrity endorsement. Ancient Rome similarly lauded actors and notorious gladiators, and Julius Caesar appeared on a coin in his own lifetime (a departure from the usual depiction of battles and divine lineage).

In the early 12th century, Thomas Becket became famous following his murder. He was promoted by the Christian Church as a martyr and images of him and scenes from his life became widespread in just a few years. In a pattern often repeated, what started out as an explosion of popularity (often referred to with the suffix ‘mania’) turned into a long-lasting fame: pilgrimages to Canterbury Cathedral where he was killed became instantly fashionable and the fascination with his life and death have inspired plays and films.

The cult of personality (particularly in the west) can be traced back to the Romantics in the 18th Century, whose livelihood as artists and poets depended on the currency of their reputation. The establishment of cultural hot-spots became an important factor in the process of generating fame: for example, London and Paris in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Newspapers started including gossip columns and certain clubs and events became places to be seen in order to receive publicity.

“What’s the Fall lineup looking like?”
“Pretty bad. Those streaming sites are eating our lunch.”
“Guys, we need some original content here.”
“Well…”
“Go on, spit it out. It can’t be any worse than your last idea.”
Spanking With The Stars.”
“Okay… I was wrong.”
“No! It’s a great idea!”
“Really? This isn’t cable you know, the FCC is still stuck in the last century when it comes to kink.”
“Listen guys! Look, if HBO can do GOT and STARZ can do the Outlander, we can show spanking. It’s 50 shades of whatever, and it’s about time we seized the initiative.”
“I can’t see how we could possibly round up enough celebs—even C-list—to even make a pilot. It’s a dumb idea.”
“Remember the Battle of the Network Stars back in the ’70s? We combine DWTS with Survivor, throw in a little Lost with Naked and Afraid, and we make a reality spanking show where the challenges are all BDSM themed. Hey, if Christian Grey can sell hundreds of millions of books and, make movies despite insipid acting and lame discipline, we can make a television show work.”
“She’s got a point, boss. Throw enough cash and social media follows, there are plenty of celebrities out there who’d put their butts on the line for a shiny trophy and Instagram pics.”
“So who gets spanked? Joe the Plumber and Doris the Housewife, or the used-to-be-famous-until-they-snorted-their-residuals?”
“I say both. I think Taylor Swift would make an awesome dominatrix! And the Rock? Sign me up to fail if he’s swinging the paddle!”
“I’d like to give Bieber a good caning.”
“How about a Kardashian?”
“How about the entire clan?”
“They’re probably already into that.”
“Hey, there’s this website called Chross that lists spankos.”
“Check it out! Madonna and Katy Perry! I know we can get those two as judges.”
“Alright, alright, it sounds viable. Start making some calls and shake the bushes. No, not shrubbery, the Bushes. As in Presidents Bushes. And while you’re at it, ring up the Palace. If anyone’s into kinky sex, it’s Will and Kate.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Inexhaustible Smorgasbord

The sharp cracks had faded to muted rumbles; the late summer storm trundled to the east, trailing an ebony cloak glazed with jagged streaks of abstract white. At my feet, the dull granite setts slowly slaked a thirst; the detritus of tourists swirling into the gaping sewers leaving behind deceptively safe and clean shiny streets. Historic Old Town, painstakingly resurrected—twice—from the ashes of pitiless warfare, brooded in the sweet morning air. The western skies pulsed with urgency, delayed flights flung themselves recklessly at the obscured stars, hastening to meet global schedules grounded by adverse conditions.

I cupped my left hand. Had any been able to observe, the brief orange flare would have revealed a deep weary cynicism. I puffed the harsh tobacco, blew out a stream of fragrant smoke that lingered close as if terrified by the surroundings. I ignored the warning, watching instead the CCTV camera as it whirred atop the light pole. The police drones had departed with the onset of rain. This was pass through area for visitors by day; small shops catering in information and deceit. By night, contraband slipped past the law with practiced ease.

A vibration shook the front right pocket of my black linen trousers. If a phone could sound impatient the summons snarled at my unruffled savoir faire. The cigarette tumbled like an acrobat without a net: I stubbed it out with a faint hiss as it splattered on the damp pavement. Finally moving forward, the crepe soles of my shoes were silent as a grave.

The night wavered. Lean shadows peeled from brick façades and dropped from pockets of mist hovering above. To those without the Sight, nothing had changed. My escort surrounded me. Lethal, immortal, they were not here to help—they weren’t allowed where I was expected—but to ensure I fulfilled my oath. If thoughts could kill…

Jutting phallicly with a hostile and arrogant contempt at the ragged edge of tradition [reclaimed] and gentrification, the Cashmere Tower was the tallest building in the city. Money fountained like arterial blood from the professional tenants, none of it staying for long; sophisticated programs laundered the stains through shell companies and numbered accounts. Standard procedures for corrupt businesses protected by slick lawyers and bought politicians. My target was higher up the ladder—literally—the top ten floors pandered to a different type of cash flow.

Vice was timeless. Nubile flesh an inflation proof currency. Educated agents were shopping for fresh victims that wouldn’t be missed.

By mistake or deliberate malice—the first understandable, the latter an apocalyptic possibility—the procurers had lured the wrong one. Whatever the alchemy of designer drugs and DJ mixed trance that had created the circumstances of the snatch, it had not removed the clear traces of her passage.

I was their emissary.

The elevator was smooth and quiet.

Rows and rows of glittering females arranged as if waxed produce in bins filled the luxurious rooms. The buyers with their tablets snapped pictures, and fired off messages that raced around the world. The auction started later, but I was not shopping. My steel attaché was not filled with clean dollars or euros or yen, but a single jewel that pulsed with all the suppressed fury at the unrelenting humanistic devouring of magic.

I carried a portal strong enough to suck the entire building into the Outerlands were it not tuned to ‘rescue’ my target. If the dead-eyed brokers knew what their exotic captive actually was, they’d run screaming into the night; not that fleeing was a viable option should she choose to destroy rather than drink in the essence of fear and despair coating the dungeon walls.

Why I was chosen to interrupt the pain slut as she writhed in her bondage, driving her price higher with every blow of the whip: that is a story best told later. For when the Queen commands retrieval of her wayward daughter: who better to mount an escape, than the Princess’ estranged human husband.

That would be me.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Black Market Night by Kalidwen.©

The spanking illustration provided by the talented Kalidwen over at Kalidwen’s little spankings: Musings & fessées.

  • Corrupted

    Now available, "Corrupted", an anthology from Sexy Little Pages, including my short story, Ghosting Past Emily. Click the picture for ebookstore links.

  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

    After Amsterdam and Berlin, Tokyo was her favorite place to explore the latest in technological sexuality. Unlike in Europe though, in Japan she would always be gaijin, and the locals off limits to her needs. On the crowded streets of Ginza she felt the stares and heard the unspoken contempt, Go back to where you came from, which was something it had in common with America. She was too tall, too confident, too yellow and most of all, too female. She channeled the perceived insults into taboo actions.
    It was a tired and bitter Emily that touched down ten hours later in a San Francisco of bone-chilling damp and a watery rising sun. She needed a hard session at the Armory before returning to work on Monday. Her slave had better be ready to grovel and be pussy-whipped.

  • Purchase: The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    Click the picture to purchase, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine.

  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    A comedy of Victorian manners mixed with delicious spankings and sexual encounters guaranteed to raise even a vampire’s blood pressure. Byron Cane sets a torrid pace in his historical paranormal erotic novella.

    It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Sir Nachton MacRath is warily returning to his home isle after decades abroad. He has good reasons to steer clear of the Royal Family, but is immediately snared by the Queen herself, who anoints him, Her Chastiser of Loose Morals, complete with elevation to the upper reaches of the aristocracy. Rather than a quiet existence as a vampire, he is now a Peer uneasily rubbing shoulders with the most powerful men in the Empire.

    Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but like all her contemporaries, longs for some excitement and romance. Valentine’s Day is only weeks away, when their paths cross with a bump. Despite later discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. The more encounters with Sir MacRath she has, the more her body yearns to know what it is to submit to his vampiric touch. When he reluctantly agrees to be her Valentine, thus begins a Domination and discipline the likes of which she’s never dreamed.

    MacRath doesn’t feel he deserves Phoebe’s love, and attempts to push her away by taking her deeper into sexual submission. She surprises him — and herself — by eagerly submitting to his every desire. Together, they explore the sensual heights that a woman and a man — a vampire — can reach. But politics and conflict are never far away, and the Valentine’s Day deadline comes all too soon.

    Note: The original version of this book was included in the Lust in Lace paranormal romance anthology.

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

    Pity poor Stephanie: twenty-five years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fashionista with a good job and an all-round delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm, leading both men and women to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault; genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end and a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline. If someone needed to spank her, well, obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.
    When Stephanie crashes (quite literally) into the life of Ross, high flying exec in the fashion world and eligible bachelor, she is stupefied he wants her as his. Under Ross’ tutelage, as Brat to his Sir, she learns that she can be spanked for more than just being naughty! And Ross — he discovers there’s much more to Stephanie than just her submissive need to be disciplined, as he falls more and more in love.
    A brilliantly funny, light-hearted, spanking erotic romance novella by Byron Cane, with memorable characters and a beautiful love story interwoven into the sexiness, lending a contemporary twist to the princess fairy tale.

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

    In Byron Cane's, The Witch of Olympus Hollow, it’s 1952, and Gale Johnson is outraged when her parents send her packing to a tiny town in Appalachia to visit the mysterious great aunt she has never met. In the foothills of North Carolina, Gale will discover a wondrous birthright. A lifetime of discipline and sexual satisfaction awaits, but her destiny comes at a cost.
  • Lust in Lace

    Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

  • Lust in Lace anthology

    In Byron Cane's Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.
  • PNRLUST

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

    Come visit the Paranormal Erotic Romance website for information about the Lust anthology series. Read Lust by the Sea, Lust on the Wing, Lust in Tooth and Claw, Lust in Winter and Lust in Lace.

  • ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ Oops. Does that date me? These are the top posts.

  • Back writing 6/30/16 short stories and a spanking novel