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19.11.11

My twisted relationship with kinky sex

Let me tell you about my twisted relationship with BDSM. As an emerging writer, I have often been told that you should write about what you know (unless you're writing fantasy, of course). But with BDSM that hasn't always been all that easy for me. Here is how it started: I came across a picture of a woman dressed in latex and holding a flogger in the ads of a local magazine sometime in the late 1980s. She looked fairly ridiculous to me at the time – mostly, I guess, because she was different from the other pictures on the page offering the usual fair of professional services like "private clubs", "escorts" or "masseuses". I didn't really get why someone would want to wear black latex just to have sex. To my (admittedly unimaginative) teenage mind one didn't dress up for sex. Quite the contrary, in fact, we always tried to get as naked as possible under the circumstances – but that may be another story. And the flogger? Who would be turned on by that? I remembered the occasional spankings my mom doled out as a punishment when I was a kid – the shame and embarrassment more than the actual pain – and frankly, I couldn't imagine anyone getting off on that.

A few years later a friend, who liked to confess things to me (I suspect that she did it to appear sophisticated), told me that she had had what she called Sado-Maso sex with an older guy ("older" meaning older than we were at the time, not elderly). She went into quite some detail about how he blindfolded her, tied her to the bed and teased her with ice-cubes. I'm not absolutely sure if she wasn't simply repeating a scene from the movie 91/2 Weeks to me. And I did my damnedest to just nod and appear cool and sophisticated myself. What surprised me, though, was my own reaction to her tale. The idea of relinquishing control to someone else intrigued me. My curiosity was piqued.
Now, my boyfriend at the time wasn't really into role-play. Let's say the kinkiest thing we ever came up with was eating ice cream in bed. To be fair, I wasn't confident enough to confess my newfound interest to him either. Instead, I began to research – first in books, later on the internet (an infinite resource – did I mention that I'm a bit of a nerd?). And I learned quite a lot – more, in fact, than I am confident to discuss. I eventually tried out some of the things I had read about with my partner, but there's still what I would call a huge discrepancy between my theoretical knowledge about and my actual experience of BDSM practices.

So, should I be writing about BDSM? I don't know. But what I write about isn't always a conscious decision. Characters, stories and topics mostly just present themselves to me and demand to be written down – as did my most recent story "The Accidental Sub". You can read an excerpt from the story below and see for yourself. What's your own relationship with BDSM? Anything you've tried or would like to try, or are you more of a curious spectator like myself? I'd love to hear from you in the comments.

If you enjoy reading BDSM stories, you should definitely check out the brand new Subspace Anthology filled to the brim with exciting tales. And did I mention my story is in it too?

Want more awkward confessions and hot excerpts from my stories? Come over to my blog A DARK KINDOF DESIRE. And, of course, I'll be back here next month on the 19th!


Excerpt from "The Accidental Sub"


Catherine was ready and waiting just inside the wood-framed glass doors to her office building at three minutes to eight. She stared at her wristwatch, counting the seconds. She had double-checked it against the BBC news for the umpteenth time half an hour ago and was quite sure it was accurate now. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on work at all today, hypnotised by the slow-moving hands of the wall clock when she wasn’t daydreaming about what was going to happen tonight. At one point she had found herself typing the word ‘butt plug’ instead of ‘buttress’ into her summary of a serious and urgent environmental report on tsunami countermeasures. Sheesh!

Sighing, she pulled down the way-too-short black leather miniskirt she had bought at a fetish store near King’s Cross Station on her lunch break along with a medium-sized silicone butt plug. A delicious frisson of arousal had crept up her spine as she carried these items back to the office in a thin, black plastic bag. What if her colleagues found out what she was up to?

She had inserted the butt plug in the ladies’ room after lunch but left the miniskirt for later. This really wasn’t her kind of outfit. It showed off too much of her substantial thighs, and she was afraid that someone might notice she wasn’t wearing panties. Of course, this possibility also made her really hot and the constant pressure of the butt plug heightened her arousal.

The top was a disaster in itself. While she tried to keep the soft cowl neck pulled up, it slipped with every movement she made and her breasts were constantly in danger of popping out of the skimpy garment. She had been wearing the top to work today and had only realised it was a dangerous choice when she had taken off the bra and the long-sleeved red T-shirt she had worn underneath.

One minute to go. She checked her makeup in her pocket mirror, then had to readjust her top again. Thirty seconds. She peeked out through the glass doors but couldn’t see much of the street. At eight o’clock sharp a black Saab convertible pulled up to the kerb, just as she stepped out of the building. The roof was closed so she couldn’t see the driver, but the passenger door was opened for her from the inside and she didn’t hesitate to get into the car.

He looked, even more handsome than she remembered, in black jeans and a tight black T-shirt that fitted his broad, muscular upper body to perfection. His short brown hair was combed back, and a pair of black Ray Bans dangled from the neckline of his T-shirt. He was definitely gorgeous enough to eat, and Catherine had a strong compulsion to lick his body from head to toe.

He said, “Good evening, Catherine.” His deep voice went straight to her G-spot and her knees went weak.

She risked another brief glance at him and whispered a shy ‘Hello’, before turning to fasten her seatbelt. Suppressing the insane urge to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her right here in the car, she meekly folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor. He started the engine and pulled away from the kerb. Catherine didn’t dare ask him where they were going. She felt completely at his mercy, and a delightful shiver of anticipation ran through her body.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered as they stopped at a traffic light. A feeling of calm spread slowly through Catherine’s whole body. It was such a relief to cede responsibility to him. She wriggled forward in the seat and clasped her wrists behind the small of her back. No longer self-conscious about how she looked, she attuned herself to his wishes, anticipating the pleasure of his touch.

He took one hand off the wheel and reached over to pull her cowl neck down below her waist and expose both breasts. He gave an appreciative ‘Hmm’ when her nipples hardened in the cool evening air. He slipped his hand between her legs, nudging her thighs apart as far as they would go in the short skirt. “I like the outfit,” he commented and slipped one long finger into her, then ran it through her folds to spread the moisture. “Hmm,” he rumbled again. His hand slipped lower and his probing fingers found the butt plug. “Very nice.”

He tapped the end lightly, sending shivers of dark delight up Catherine’s spine. She imagined him taking her from behind, fucking first her pussy and then her arsehole. The vivid mental images made her so wet she was sure she would leave a puddle on the seat. 
The light turned green and he took his hand away abruptly to put it back on the steering wheel. Catherine felt strangely bereft without his touch. She clenched her mouth shut around a tiny whimper of frustration.

2 comments:

Lisabet Sarai said...

Hello, Mina,

Well - if BDSM notions turn you on, that's the key to writing stories with power exchange. You can do the research on the page or in person, but without the passion it will feel fake.

As for my own experience - I wouldn't be an erotica author if I hadn't had a BDSM relationship back in my late twenties. Although I'm now married to someone else and have a completely vanilla life (except in my stories), the years I was with G. changed me completely. The intensity of that relationship is a primary source of the emotion in my tales.

Congratulations on the release!

Mina Dorian said...

Thanks for dropping by, Lisabet. I'm glad you approve of my dappling in a genre that I know you're much more proficient in. Since the story was published, I'm a bit afraid that someone will stand up and point a finger at me, yelling "impostor" but I guess that's what comes with putting oneself out there...