I love a good hike, and I’m also a fan of shorts, so stinging nettles hover somewhere close to the top of my ‘irritating nemesis’ list, alongside barbed wire and people who let their dogs off the lead then shout ‘DON’T WORRY, HE’S VERY FRIENDLY’ when the little prick comes bounding towards me all full of teeth. It would never in a million years have occurred to me that stinging nettles could be sexy. But, as with so many topics, incredible guest blogger and queen of unusual kinks Jenby is here to show that actually, stinging nettles can be very fucking sexy indeed…

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Autumn is here, and with it the promise of Halloween. So I’m excited to bring you this week’s guest blog on the hotness of fear. Katie runs her own sex blog at NymphoStimToy (@NymphoStimToy on Mastodon), which you definitely need to check out because not only did her first post (‘when I’m better‘) absolutely annihilate me, she also has the best sex blog tagline I have ever seen, and I’m jealous. But as I say, today she’s here to talk about fear: the fact that arousal and terror sit so closely in our bodies, providing similar heart-pounding, gasping, adrenaline-fuelled reactions means they’re incredibly closely linked for many of us. And she wanted to talk about giving an eager submissive the gift of pure terror…

Note: Katie has written consent and the build-up to fear very beautifully in this piece, but it’s important to state clearly that you shouldn’t ever seek to frighten someone unless you know they have consented to that, and you’ve discussed things like safe words and other ways for them to withdraw consent at any time. As a general rule, the scarier the play, the more groundwork you need to have put in beforehand to understand your partner’s limits and the cues they will give you if they need the terror to stop. 

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I don’t do choking any more. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, it turns out that something I have loved for many years is far less safe than I realised. It’s too much risk. I’m not going to order you not to do choking play, but I will tell you that this breath play article by Jay Wiseman is worth a read – it gave me useful information in a way that genuinely changed my mind. As I’ve said to a couple of dudes since I stopped being comfortable with choking: “sorry to be a buzzkill, but we’re gonna need to do something different.” I’m no medical expert, so I don’t think it’s my job to explain the detail of the risks involved with choking and asphyxiation, and I wouldn’t expect you to trust me as a source on that anyway, but here’s what I am an expert in: making shit horny! Instead of scolding you for enjoying this particular kink (I enjoyed it myself for a very long time), I’m going to share some safer alternatives to choking. Activities that – for me – capture a similar vibe to being choked or having my breath restricted, but without the underlying dangers.

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I’m so delighted to welcome Komplicated Kitty back to the guest slot! Her previous piece, about being a very slutty Cinderella for her partner, was wildly hot and incredibly popular, so when she popped back up to ask if I wanted a guest blog on pet play I squirmed with excitement. And it’s just as hot as her first piece, this time with the addition of a fluffy, sexy tail butt plug…

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This perfect restraints kit has lived rent-free in my head for a number of years. I’m a clumsy, eager fucker and when I engage in bondage, I do so in the same clumsy, eager way that I go about the rest of my fucks. I’m rubbish at knots, and can’t be bothered to learn, so the restraints that have won a permanent place in my bedroom are usually simple to use. Think cuffs with buckles, or ideally velcro. These door jam cuffs that I got many years ago were my favourite for a while. They’re so easy, and so effective: I love them. When asked what would be on my bucket list for the perfect restraints kit, I hankered after this Sportsheets under the bed restraints system for literally YEARS. Then finally I got one, and not long after I set it up, I broke up with my boyfriend. So I couldn’t actually use it. FFS.

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