This is one of those posts that goes into the sometimes dark places in my brain. As a result, it involves discussion of things like pain, BDSM, and roleplaying sex-as-punishment. Everything in the post is 100% consensual, but I’m just giving you a heads-up so if those things are likely to disturb you please don’t read on. 

We’re discussing the difference between corporal punishment and what I’m going to call ‘angry punishment.’ I explain to him that, in previous role-plays, I’ve struggled with the idea of rigid, ordered punishment. Counting spanks, measured chastisement, that kind of thing. The type of role-play where I am a naughty girl, and a guy in a position of authority is responsible for correcting me:

He orders me to bend over and touch my toes, stretching my thighs and arse taut for the cane or tawse. He makes me wait for what feels like an achingly long time, as my calves tingle and my cunt gets slick, and I wait for the first thwack.

At that moment what I’m hoping for isn’t one sharp stroke. I’m not anticipating a measured, precise stripe across my backside. But usually that’s what I get. One stripe – carefully applied – then the inevitable order:

“Count them.”

And I count. One, two, three, four… I count the strokes and I thank him for each one. This controlled, dominant guy, who will dish out exactly as much pain as I deserve and no more.

That’s nice – it is. But it’s not the best.

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When I was young, I used to think about all the things I wanted to be when I grew up. Looking to the future, I’d see myself in lots of different roles. Lawyer (the first, and most intense of my Future Dreams), comedian (very brief desires, always stamped out by the fact that I’m not as funny as I think I am), and often writer (that one’s stuck).

It was – and still is – fun to imagine all the cool things I could do and be if I had the skill, and put in the effort.

But something’s changed since I was younger, and that’s that I think far less about what I could be, or what I want to do, and more on what I want to have done. Looking at writing, I am less likely to imagine myself beavering away at a desk with a typewriter (most dreams of writerhood involve those clackety old typewriters, despite the fact that they’re deeply impractical things), and more likely to imagine myself lying face down in a pile of scribbled-on manuscript, exhaling a sigh of relief and exhaustion.

Less likely to consider what I want to do in future, and more keen to think about what I want written on my gravestone.

“She tried her best” might be a good one. Or right now simply: “Knackered.”

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“Two dudes.”

“Fuck’s sake – I know. You always want two dudes.”

“Yes but but but but. It’s more than that.”

“Honest?”

“Honest. The specific nature of this two-dudes fantasy makes it different to all the rest.”

“Really?”

Really. Let me tell you about my threesome director fantasy… 

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Anal sex is a topic I have done to death here before. If you’ve been reading for longer than a few weeks, you know that it’s one of my favourite things. The tightness of it, the promise of something deliciously taboo, the way he’ll whisper ‘good girl’ in my ear as I wriggle back onto his cock… unngh.

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This blog post was written in response to the question: are there any sex things that you don’t like? Here’s where my mind went first.

I am probably similar to a lot of British people who grew up in the late nineties, in that I first encountered rimming on Queer as Folk (the UK version, which is categorically better than the US version because of Stuart Alan Jones). In the first ever episode, Nathan (played by Charlie Hunnam when he was young and pre-beardy) gets naked and thoroughly fucked by the stunning Aidan Gillen. Amid the sweat and the panting and the deafening thud of my aching, hormonal cunt, I heard Stuart (Aidan Gillen) ask Nathan what he was into. Nathan pauses so Stuart prompts:

“Rimming?”

There’s a pause, as we realise that the young ‘un has absolutely no idea what that is. Still, he’s as horny as a teenager with a hot guy sweating all over him, so obviously he says yes. And the sight of Stuart’s tongue sliding wetly up and down Nathan’s back, eventually coming to rest in the crack of his buttocks is something I still occasionally kill kittens over.

But of course, alongside all my other thoughts – are there nerve endings there? Is it really pleasurable? If I asked him really nicely, would an Aidan Gillen lookalike ever do the same to me? – was the most important rimming-related question: what does it actually taste like?

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