Adventures
Savagely Average and Other Kinks
Author Lorelei
Is there such a thing as a normal woman fetish?
Sadly, my unending lust for women in their natural state is in fact considered a special interest now, if not exactly a fetish. By “natural state” I don’t mean naked, although naked is good. I mean that their noses, lips, breasts, bellies, and pussies haven’t been sliced, suctioned, trimmed, stuffed, and otherwise remodeled by a plastic surgeon. I also prefer my women with their natural body hair, despite the Dommely pleasure I take in lathering and shaving someone else’s pubic hair.
Of course, once I’ve got my hands on a woman, what I do with her is also normal … for me. Forced orgasms. Flogging. Hot wax and ice. Clamps on nipples, dildos in ass and cunt, and my tongue on her clitoris, all at once.
That’s normal, right?
Hi, I’m Bi
Author Lorelei
It’s National Coming Out Day. My name is Lorelei, and I’m bisexual. (Also a polyamorous queer sadistic Domme and occasional switch, but we’ll talk about all that later.)
This sexual identity is deep-rooted in me. There never was a time when I was attracted only to one gender. Even in times when I have been romantically or sexually involved with only one, the other desire was always there, craving attention. Usually it came out in dreams.
“But you have to choose!” some people insist. “You can’t sit on the fence.”
I have chosen, and I’m not sitting on any fences, thanks. I’m staking out my own ground, where I can love bears, butches, sissies, and femmes of all genders.
Notice I don’t say “regardless of gender.” I do a lot of gender play, and I am especially attracted to people at the extremes of the gender spectrum. Lovely femmy guys and burly bearded men, butch dykes and curvaceous femmey women. My beautiful partner and femsub can do butch or high femme. My male lover is a classic bear, tall, bearded, muscular, full-bellied—and has a thick head of waist-length hair. And despite my powerful identification as a woman, I’m also genderqueer in a peculiarly high-handed way.
One reason that “bisexual” is such a problematic term is that it suggests that there are two genders. In my experience, gender is considerably more fluid and complex than a simple binary. But that’s just the start of the bisexual dilemma. Or trilemma. Or polylemma.
Being bisexual can be an uncomfortable position. (It’s the middle of the road where most accidents happen.) I have a lot more sympathy for the lesbian and gay folks who get angry when we hide behind het privilege than for the straight ones who think we’re sneaky and unsettling.
Actually, almost everybody thinks that bisexuals are treacherous, greedy, self-indulgent, incapable of commitment, and lying to themselves about their real orientation. Did I miss any of the usual stereotypes? Oh yes—bisexuals are narcissists in love only with their own sexuality, willing to let anybody do them, as long as somebody does.
And we all have heard that bisexual women save their real loyalty for men. That their desire for women is mostly a desire to please and titillate a men who gets hot watching them make love before diving in with his manly meathood to satisfy them both. Any shadow of that attitude infuriates me, and God knows how often it’s commercially exploited. Too often.
My bisexuality is very far from being an experiment, a pose to turn men on, or an escape from my true lesbian nature. It’s at the core of my being, and I’ve had passionate, lasting, intense erotic and romantic relationships with both men and women. I was married to a sissy man for 17 years. I’ve been involved with my femsub for more than 11 years, with my male lover for 6. I cannot imagine giving either one of those relationships up, turning away from love, friendship, and endless desire. Not being able to marry either one of them is one of the frustrations of my life. Marrying her is illegal. Marrying him would misrepresent my relationship with her and his with his longterm partner. (He’s been with her for more than 25 years. She is one of my closest friends.)
It’s so easy for society to dismiss the same-sex relationship as a tasty snack compared to the solid, nutritious meal of heterosexual commitment. And maybe for some people that’s true. Not for me.
Go right down to the heart of me, and you’ll find love, desire, friendship for both men and women. I’m Lorelei, and I am bisexual.
BiNetUSA, a great US site for information and support on bisexuality.
Holiday Kink
Author Lorelei
I’ll be celebrating Independence Day with my gorgeous femsub. I’m planning three days of a short leash, with plenty of flogging, fisting, ass-fucking, and gradually intensifying pain play, culminating in some fun with my new scalpel.
Then a night of erotic mind control with a different partner, and my long weekend will be over.
I’m grateful to the Founding Fathers for life, liberty, and the pursuit of kinky sex — something Benjamin Franklin, at least, is likely to have enjoyed. He is known to have spent time at the Hellfire Club.
Amusing Juxtapositions
Author Lorelei
In the Mistress bath (as opposed to the master bath or the housepet bath), amid the usual stacks of books and toiletries, lie a copy of the Greek New Testament and a double-ended dildo.
Today’s Horoscope
Author Lorelei
“Share your wisdom. Take someone along for the lavish, extravagant limo ride.”
Heh-heh-heh. Some of my nearest and dearest know it’s not just wisdom I share on limo rides.
Yes, I need to post about Folsom, but not tonight, mes amies.
Significant Changes
Author Lorelei
Earlier this year I started on a new adventure — a romantic and sexual relationship with Siegfried Volsung, my first new vanilla romance in nearly a quarter of a century. My spice thought I was insane for trying; they made suggestions like “Take a masochist to bed with you — you’ll need *someone* to hurt.” But he seemed special — thoughtful, loving, intelligent, unbelievably sexy — and he was willing to try.
For twenty years or so, my chief sexual identity has been as a Domme. The full description is usually “bisexual polyamorous SadoDomme with a dash of masochism.” In my rare forays into bottoming, I always kept control of the scene — it was like having someone scratch my back. (“Down a little and to the right — yes, thanks, that’s it.”) I have said repeatedly that I could never have a vanilla sexual relationship — and that I could never submit to anyone.
I was wrong. At least, I was wrong about the submitting. Because Siegfried himself turns out not to be vanilla, and though we do switch with each other, he’s my Master in most of our scenes, and I’m having a wonderful time exploring the delights of submission.
Don’t worry that the old Lorelei is gone. My primary identification is still Domme; I don’t foresee myself switching with anyone else. It’s very much a scene-based dynamic, not lifestyle; we won’t be doing 24/7. What this is doing for me — aside from giving me great joy and lots of hot scenes — is bringing home the intensity and power of submission. At last I know from the inside what it feels like to be diving. I’m already a better Domme because of it. And I am learning to be his good submissive.
Expect further entries on what I’m learning and how I’m processing this fundamental shift in my sense of who I am, as well as the usual posts about my life as a SadoDomme.
So Much Better than Brazilian Wax
Author Lorelei
I had big plans for tonight, involving the Boytoy, Karen, the Citadel, a series of canes, and half a dozen floggers. Unfortunately, I have been sick with strep, so I’m spending my days and nights sleeping, taking antibiotics, drinking chicken soup, and feeling listless.
I did get a little play tonight of a much less strenuous kind. Sometimes a subtle scene can be even more erotic than a big, savage Domme-aerobics lashfest.
Now, one of the complexities of poly BDSM is dealing with conflicting interests. Generally Redmage and I don’t have problems with that; our interests dovetail beautifully. He does elaborate and beautiful rope bondage and electroplay. I do fisting and vampire gloves. We both play with knives, but I’m the one who draws blood. We both play with canes, floggers, and paddles, but he’s the one with the awe-inspiring flogging stance and collection of custom floggers.
However, we do have a difference of opinion whether Karen looks better shaved or with her own luxuriant bush. This could be a source of conflict, but instead it has become a source of delight for me. Although I love pubic hair, I also really love doing shaving scenes. So we compromise. When she is shaved, I get to do the shaving. In between, she lets it grow, and I enjoy her thick curly chevelure.
Tonight Karen needed to shave; tomorrow she and Redmage are off to a play party. (Where I would be going if I were going out.) So I told her to prepare the necessities: a razor with a fresh blade, shaving cream, a basin of warm water, several towels, a washcloth, and damned good lighting, since the careful Domme does not trim a sub’s clit along with her bush.
Karen lay naked, legs spread, waiting for me. No bondage needed. She looked up at me as I made my preparations and laughed. “It’s that mad scientist look!”
Well, of course. First I soaked the washcloth in the warm water and spread it across her lushly furred crotch. Naturally, I had to stroke and touch and massage her mons veneris. It’s not necessary for the shaving, but it’s absolutely required by my pleasure. Much of the joy of Dommeing for me is in getting to play with my sub in any way I choose.
When her hair was thoroughly wet and soft, I spread a generous amount of shaving gel on my hands and rubbed them over her crotch, being careful to keep to the outside. Then, the pleasures and perils of the blade, stroking away the curls and leaving rosy, naked flesh.
Just think how erotic: a naked woman, lying surrendered and open to my touch, holding helplessly still as I caress her cunt with a sharp blade. Her breathless expectancy, her shapely legs spread as she offers up her cunt to me, the tender folds of her pussy gleaming beneath the rich lather and the damp curls — all while I slowly, carefully touch and stretch and shave every fold.
It’s a long, careful process, and the blade has to be rinsed often, but eventually I had done the first pass and was ready for the next. One more layer of shaving gel. This time the razor glided smoothly over her bare skin.
Now her cunt lay utterly bare and open, like a strawberry sliced in half. No hiding the full clit, the voluptuous inner lips, the three rings that pierce her. Soon it will be veiled again by dark curls, its folds and secrets open only to the probing tongue or hand. Then I can start the cycle over again.
Weekend Play
Author Lorelei
If I can’t be pleased by a successful sex club, what kind of experience would I have in the wholesome surroundings of a business motel in the East Bay? Not worksafe; F:f play and bloodsports
My First Night at Power Exchange
Author Lorelei