Hands

So I have this fantasy that goes something like this:

I'm sitting on a throne in an opulent room. Bright rich drapes line the walls and don't quite hide the gilded and bejeweled dungeon accoutrements strewn around the room. A veiled slave girl leads you into the room and gestures for you to kneel at my feet before silently shutting the door behind her.

I spend some time inspecting you from all sides before grabbing you by the hair and dragging you onto your back. You're on the floor and I'm in your face with my hands around your neck. I'm enjoying watching the veins bulge above my grip, and the flush slowly creeping up your face.

"I have something to show you," I say. Closing my eyes, I breathe deep and exhale, loosening my self-control. I open my eyes to watch your reaction as my skin turns a very pale lilac and my eyes flood to black. Rather than letting you gasp your surprise, I tighten up on your neck. Your hips thrust convulsively, in thrall to the pain, before I let up to hear you gulp breath.

After a few moments I can see the second realization slide behind your eyes as you silently begin to count the hands on you. One hand on your face, holding your gaze to mine. Two around your throat, squeezing lightly. Another on your cock. Two more leaving fine red lines in the wake of my nails on your chest. But we're alone. I smile darkly, and suddenly you notice that my teeth seem sharper than they did moments ago.

"Do you know what I am?" I ask.

You swallow fearfully, and the drag of your Adam's apple across my hands makes you wince. "A goddess," you whisper.

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This is just one version of this fantasy. The details may vary, but mostly it's all about the six hands. I mean, can you imagine? I could have a different flogger/whip/paddle/candle/needle/whatever in each hand. It would be a symphony of thuddy/stingy/sharp/burny/scratchy/etc, and you would never know which would fall next. Oh, the delightful torture possibilities!

The Other Place

So apparently I'm going straight to hell.

Don't worry though. As soon as I get there, I'm taking over and making Satan my bitch. Hell as paradise for the BDSM set... this idea has promise, don't you think?

That's right, Satan. I'm coming for you, you little whore.

Perv 2.0

Okay... I confess I'm a bit of a nerd, and so naturally I'm on Facebook (not as Sadiste, but as my vanilla self). Yes, it's a time-suck, but hey, it let me catch up with tons of people I'd lost touch with over the years.

So you can imagine my glee when I discovered that a delightful man in Canada is developing FetLife, which is essentially Facebook for pervs. It's a work in progress so it's not perfect yet, but John Baku seems intent on keeping the site streamlined and free of the trashy sparkles and obnoxious profile add-ons that makes me want to barf on MySpace. Go check it out if you haven't already!

On Anonymity in Blogging

I expect all anonymous sex bloggers ask themselves the same question when they first decide to blog. Is it worth the risk?

Because the fact is, we do risk quite a bit when we engage in sex that's outside the norm, and even more so when we share parts of our lives that are way-beyond-TMI for a lot of the people in our lives. Take Jefferson, who risks losing his kids to his ex-wife simply by having more sex (and more kinds of sex) than most people think is "normal."

But it's worse than just risking that some of the people we know might finger us. We even risk becoming the target of the press, so that the community at large has a chance to victimize us. Take the New York Post's treatment of Richard Benjamin, which shows that journalists are not above ridiculing a man's injuries if they're incurred during BDSM, or even above outing him to his wife and children so as to get the scoop with their unscripted reactions. Then there's Abby Lee, whose outing by an unscrupulous journalist shows that many people seem to think that undertaking a sex blog disentitles us to privacy.

The First Amendment states that:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Note that there is no restriction on the anonymity of free speech--no requirement that those who would speak freely must own their words with their legal names. And I would go farther: I believe that speech cannot be free without the ability to speak in inviolable anonymity. After all, how can speech be free if speaking truths--no matter how taboo--costs us our jobs, our children, our privacy?

So what can we do when the freedom of the press infringes on our freedom of speech? I don't have a good answer to that, I'm afraid. Will our oh-so-free-press effectively become a gag to silence people like me? How many people will they intimidate into conformity, and into never speaking out? I don't have answers to those, either. But I think I can answer one question at least.

Yes. It's worth it.