Photo by flickr user dantc, used under a Creative Commons license.

I’m taking a break while I figure out what new incarnation this blog will take. But in the meantime, here’s what’s been happening:

I was named one of the top 100 sex bloggers! (Full list from Between My Sheets below the jump.)

12 of NYC’s sexiest sex bloggers have a burlesque-themed calendar to support the Sex Worker Awareness Project. I am definitely going to buy a calendar and so should you! I meant to buy a day, I swear I did, but September is a bad month; we’ve all got our habits to support and mine is tuition.

While they were playing dress-up, I was in San Francisco for the Folsom Street Fair. Kink in Exile, who gets cuter every time I see her, played my host and tour guide for the weekend. KiE: I adore you, even if you have gone all California on me and drink organic milk.

On Saturday I experienced the Citadel for the first time. New York needs to take notes and have some hot public sex with its kink. I got to watch an occasional lover of mine with two of his own, and I don’t remember the last time I got that flushed and flustered just watching anything.

On Sunday I got pulled up on the Kink.com stage by Lochai while wearing cherry-print stockings. That was a long, busy day. I went fangirl on the woman behind fetishwear.net (oh, for stretchy, breathable, machine-washable sex wear!), and was too flustered to even introduce myself to Carol Queen, who liked my stockings.

That flight against the time difference on Monday always hurts, but I made it back in plenty of time for homework and class on Tuesday morning.

I’ve been too slammed between classes and work to entertain much guilt over my lack of blogging. I have a three-day sex party this weekend and I hope I remember how to do it. It’s been six months, almost. It’s like riding a … bike? Is that the noun I’m looking for?

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While wandering near Columbus Circle on Monday, I stopped in for a spontaneous massage. I needed it.

My masseuse began by prodding all my sore spots. (Ouuuch! Anyone else find that heels absolutely wreck their hips?) When satisfied that I was suitably scared, she hopped up on the table, grabbed an overhead rail, and stepped on me.

What an odd sensation, I kept thinking. She was deft with her feet, and could apply much more pressure than with her hands. Probably half the hour she spent using one or both feet. The weight felt great on my legs, and wonderful when she rolled up my spine, cracking each of the vertebrae. Hands and feet — swoon! I found it a little alarming on my upper back, not from any pain but because I couldn’t breathe.

All in all, a really unique experience, if lacking in ambiance. The regular massage portion was nothing to write home about, but how often do women walk on you for your pleasure? (For $70 an hour?) I’d recommend it for anyone 140lbs and up. She was. I am not.

Link: Salon de Tokyo.

(Photo credit: Priapus. You’ll be seeing a bunch of these because the man is a genius.)

This is not really how I feel this week.

But if it makes you feel better, the blog neglect is intentional.

Taken over Fetishcon by Priapus.

Due to a last minute college class change, I will NOT be teaching at The Eulenspiegel Society tonight. I was hoping to swing it, but… no.

Instead, if I understand correctly, a different (but lovely and talented) red-headed dominatrix will be teaching you about CBT. I encourage you to attend!

I hate to cancel: I’ve really appreciated TES’s support, and not just of my attempts at teaching. But as much as I want to be an educator, first I think I have to be educated.

Sex toys aren’t known for their truthful and accurate packaging. But couldn’t the makers of this one have thought this one through?

Found at Extreme Restraints:

Barium Enema Tips

These high quality barium tips are for those who like to engage in Barium enema play. A Barium enema is a type of enema designed for examination of the colon, so if you plan to get a deeper look inside of your partner, then these tips offer great assistance.

If you have X-ray vision, please tell us how this goes. I’m not into intestines, so I’m thinkin’ … kinda gross.

Where would you get barium solution, anyway? And more importantly, why would you want to?

A client gave me a pair of sap gloves last week.  I might have cooed. If you ever feel insufficiently mighty, try putting eight ounces of steel shot in each hand.

He didn’t realize how appropriate a gift it was: I’ve wanted a pair of them for a while. I get plenty of subservience, but sometimes I just want to force someone. Have the option of hurting him when he can’t, or won’t, hold still.

That’s really hard for a girl my size. I don’t mind some good-natured tussling, but I’m no trained martial artist. Opening up to a full-fledged struggle includes the possibility that I might lose. I don’t like to lose. Thus, my interest in handcuffs and stun guns and all manner of LE tools.

My ex had a pair of sap gloves that I loved. They were sized for a man’s hands, of course, not that the size disparity kept me from trying to box with the floppy things. At the time, my usual Paddles kit consisted of the borrowed sap gloves, my signal whip, a 15″ piece of rope, a length of parachute cord, and a handful of clothespins. Oh, and if you want to count what I was wearing, a pair of jump boots. It may not have been dominatrix gear but I could inflict some serious damage with that stuff.

I’d almost given up on finding my own pair to fit. What a delightful surprise! I look forward to much face-slapping, punching, spanking fun. And doubtless, better-toned shoulders.

In our last discussion we defined self-harm (negative pain) and masochism (sexual, aka positive, pain) but we had no way to talk about positive non-sexual pain. I think there is such a thing, but it’s very vague to me: something about energy pulls or long-distance running, rituals and ordeals.

Both Subversive Sub and Anon left comments about their continued experience of positive pain, sometimes through deliberate BDSM and sometimes through controlled, guiltless experiences of self injury. I’d love to find a label for it.

My title is misleading, though, because what “positive pain” isn’t to me is “nonsexual BDSM”. Nonsexual BDSM would be like nonsexual sex: you can have sex because you’re desperate or drunk or lonely, but it’s still sex, even if it isn’t sexy.

So when we’re talking about BDSM activities that don’t (appear to) arouse, done for a reason that is not (overtly) sexual, I’m not sure if that’s the same as nonsexual positive pain. I mean, is it also nonsexual to your partner? Entirely? Always? Do you do it with your clothes on? I am deeply suspicious of this “nonsexual” label. Maybe you don’t rub naughty bits and maybe your naughty bits don’t get hard/wet but if it looks like the rest of the sex you have, it probably is.

Which is not to knock the incredible benefits of sex, or BDSM.

But BDSM is defined by intent. So if you don’t do the BDSM stuff for sex it’s not BDSM stuff — right? Unless it really is for sex and you just say it’s not for sex. But then who’s to really tell you that you’re wrong? God I’m confused.

I still doubt (per some anti-BDSM arguments) that BDSM encourages self-injurers by providing them an outlet. Seriously, this shit is weird. I can’t imagine anyone choosing to do BDSM for self-injury purposes if they or their partner weren’t at least a little into it. Maybe, maybe I could see finding a partner’s sadism a convenient outlet. But choosing it? Seeking it out? Introducing it as a sexual — not therapeutic, sexual — practice to a new partner? When you weren’t the least little bit into it except as an outlet? Nuh-uh.

Anon had a great comment, which I want to share in its entirety. (Really, all the comments were brilliant.)

I’ve wrestled with the self injury vs. masochism quandary myself for some time, and I think the difference can be very hazy. Is it self-injury if it makes you feel bad and masochism if it makes you feel good? Is it self-injury if you do it *because* you feel bad and masochism if you do it because you feel good? Is it self-injury if you do it for the soothing/calming/focusing effect and masochism if you do it because it turns you on? Is it self-injury if you do it yourself and masochism if somebody else does it for you? I don’t know. …

I’ve done it because I was angry, because I was hurt, because I felt helpless or hopeless or lonely or bored… or horny… or just craving pain. I experience a distinct need for pain sometimes, just like the craving for food or drink or sleep or sex. I’ve always found my self-applied pain to be soothing, downright pleasant, and sometimes but not always sexually arousing. Sometimes it starts out as a relief valve and turns into sex. I don’t have an easy way to distinguish between the times when what I do is self-injury and the times when it’s masochism. I don’t feel bad about myself for doing it. I sometimes feel the desire to hide the marks from people, but only because I don’t want to scare them/endure their pity or concern or judgement. I don’t feel guilty about the things I do.

I also bottom to other people, sometimes very hard. I do this for a myriad of reasons, and the times when I bottom the hardest are often the times when I need emotional release–I’m angry, hurt, helpless, hopeless, yadda yadda. The pain and screaming and crying feel good to me. I feel better afterward. Most times, the kinds of pain that make me feel sexually aroused are less intense than those heavy beatings: a little nipple torture, some clothespins, a few needles. I’m more apt to be sexually aroused by domination than by pain. Does all this make my heavy bottoming into something dirty or deceitful or wrong? I don’t really think so… do you?

No, I don’t think it’s wrong at all. I recognize myself, my friends and my clients in your descriptions. I don’t understand why, but that doesn’t make it wrong.

A while back I found a study examining the varied reasons we have sex. More of my anthropological geekiness: I’ve had it kicking around because I thought it was so fascinating. Our motivations go so much farther than being horny or being in love. I wonder if anyone said “because I wanted to be hurt”?

When I told some friends I was shooting for a site called Perfect Slave, they started laughing. Yeah, yeah.

They did manage to make my ass look pretty good, over my vociferous sartorial protests:

And for good measure, I picked this photo because you can tell that I’m laughing.

Porn performers don’t get residuals so I feel no shame about directing you to join through my link if you are so inclined. I’ll be posting samples from the more action-heavy sites in the next couple of days.

This is more of an Enemas 101 than a proper porn question. The question “How do you prep for anal sex in porn?” gets a one-word answer: “Enema”. I have heard about girls fasting, ostensibly to delay the natural progression of things, but (she says over her chicken and mushroom couscous) I can’t tell you anything about it.

Of course you do not need to have an enema to have anal sex, in the same way that women don’t need to remove their pubic hair to fuck. Lots of things are different in the porn world. Not necessarily better.

Enemas are easiest with a partner. I’m biased as to the added fun, but it can be awkward to stick things up one’s own ass, not to mention manipulate those things in complicated ways. It’s up to you whether you prefer help or privacy.

Enemas are not actually painful or scary. They’re just weird. Your body may not know quite what to do about them. Especially the first few times, try to plan your enema about three hours before any hot anal action. Supposedly the time allows the mucous lining of the colon to regenerate. On a less theoretical note, if you misjudged how done you were in the bathroom, you’ll have time to correct it.

Some people like to do a series of enemas, until the water comes out clear. Some people prefer to do just one. You can figure out what you feel best about.

Without further ado, your simplest options:

1. The Fleet enema.

If you have ever medically needed an enema, this was probably the drugstore choice du jour. (I’m guessing here: enemas were not a part of my childhood as in many erotic-enema stories, not even remotely.) It’s quick-acting and effective, but it gets its efficacy from the sodium phosphate more than the volume of water. The urgency is not sexy to me. Sometimes it causes cramps. I find it can be irritating to one’s insides. It’s like the ipecac syrup of enemas.

If you’re going to use a Fleet, try dumping out the solution and refilling it with warm water. In a pinch, you can refill it and use it several times for more volume.

2. The Anal Douche.

I own this one, but this one looks like way more fun.

I think it’s a horrid name for a decent product. The word “douche” will never sound fun to me. Vaginal douches have largely fallen out of favor, and for good reason: they have no medical use, serve nothing but socially-instilled insecurities about genital cleanliness and odor, and promote all sorts of nasty infections. Besides the odd appearance in porn shoot bathrooms (why?!), douches survive mostly as a pejorative term.

This device holds more water than a Fleet bottle, meaning you don’t have to fill and reinsert it. However, even more than a Fleet, it is likely to push air in along with the water. Air takes longer to work its way out, and can be really uncomfortable during anal sex.

These are quite stiff to squeeze, and consequently, the temptation is to squish them hard and fast. Your partner will be unhappy. If you are doing it yourself, you may have trouble applying enough pressure, or keeping it as you withdraw. Remember, if you squeeze it, it’s an enema; if you let it reinflate, it’s an oversized bulb syringe. Don’t do that to yourself.

Mine is OK, I guess, but I’d rather use it on someone else.

3. Enema Bag

As basic as it gets. I have gotten a lot of mileage out of mine. I don’t like how the tube has to be crammed onto the bag and the tip onto the tube, but otherwise it’s a quality product for an absolute steal of a price.

I geek about enema kits, a bit. Someone at L’Oeil Cache has a hot pink bag and I am desperately jealous. For me it’s all about the tubes and valves and widgets, not to mention the endless variety of nozzles for creative play. It’s the kind of gadget you can hack without a degree in electrical engineering.

The basic idea: you put your water in the bag, insert the end of the tubing, and then lift the bag above you. Gravity does the rest of the work. Sure, you can get one of those IV racks that are totally sexy, but let’s be practical: doorknobs. Or if you’re in the tub, there’s probably a bar to hang it on. Aim for about a foot above your butt.

DON’T LOSE THE TUBE CLAMP. If the water pressure is right, you shouldn’t feel anything at all. But you will inevitably misestimate the height of your hotel room/trick/studio’s doorknob, and pinching the tube does not always stop the flow. Sans clamp, you will probably try to react one of two ways: yanking the bag down below you, or pulling the tube out. I really don’t advise the first, because the water (and its cargo!) will happily flow right back into your bag, nor can I recommend the second, which will shower your bathroom in bag water. And whatever you do, do not make these mistakes in the order I list them.

See why I say the clamp is a good idea?

If you use just a little bit of water, you’ll find it just as simple as the squeeze bottles. If you like to use more water, you’ll find it simpler than squeeze bottles because you can just lay there instead of refilling it a billion times. I think it’s the easiest to use, but it’s also the easiest to fuck up. Remember to go slowly, and if you feel too much pressure, to put on the tube clamp and wait 30-60 seconds for the sensation to subside.

All of these clean up nicely with soap and water and the occasional bath in bleach solution.

Enemas can be a lot of work for no reward (see also: waxing). Thankfully, I like thinking about how I can pervert them. If only I could get as into waxing.

I had an excellent reader question: if or how masochism and self-injury are related. These two are often compared, and often to my annoyance. We all know Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character in “Secretary”, a self-injurer who cuts her thighs until she finds BDSM and James Spader.

“It’s like whiskey and bourbon,” my sister said when she called in the middle of this piece. I had to take a moment to think (mm, whiskey) but we quickly cleared up the semantic misunderstanding: self-injury is not masochism, or any subset thereof. Masochism and self-injury are as unrelated as BDSM and abuse.

Masochism, I can tell you lots about. But I am not a self-injurer or a psychologist, so for a definition, I went to Wikipedia (emphasis mine):

As well as defining self-harm in terms of the act of damaging one’s own body, it may be more accurate to define self-harm in terms of the intent, and the emotional distress that the person is attempting to deal with.^[15]

Yesss. Right there. Self harm and masochism may both involve the act of damaging one’s own body, but the intent is radically different.

Because this topic is clearly not large enough, I’d like to talk about self-harm first in terms of body modification. Body mod is one of my fascinations, probably the nearest thing I have to a fetish. I’ve held off successfully on tattoos, but I have eleven permanent piercings, and on the overtly sexual side I enjoy a host of invasive activities that the pro-dom community politely files under “medical”.

These activities are fun for me. (Self-harm is not fun. Necessary, maybe; but not fun.) I feel that they are a healthy sexual expression. (Self-harm is not sexual, and most people who self-harm realize that it’s unhealthy.) Yet many of the activities I enjoy — cutting, scratching, piercing, burning — can be done in terms of self-harm.

Sometimes, I do think people seek “healthy” and “legitimate” outlets for self-harming behaviors. I’ve thought at least one of my clients wanted punishment from me, and not in a remotely fun way. BMEZine and especially BME/Hard are great for continual spats over how modifications can be sorted (if at all) from self injury; and whether modifications, even professional ones, obtained in a suspected or admittedly self-injurious spirit are “true” modifications and ought to be recognized or featured on the site.

When intent is internal, who’s to judge? Really, I need a LOLpenis for such lofty statements, that I may inscribe “wank wank wank” across the bottom.

The debate gets murky around extreme genital modification. Even psychologists don’t seem to know a lot about what drives people to do subincisions, bisection, castration, even genital nullification. Where intent is unclear or unstated, or the person doesn’t seem aware of it, it’s difficult or impossible for us to judge. Sexual problems or sexual preferences? Mutilation, or modification?

The same debates about intent can apply to BDSM.

Usually when people ask me about masochism and self-harm, they feel guilty about normal BDSM activities. They don’t understand their intent and they are deeply concerned about it. (Sometimes they’re questioning my intent, but that comes out more like “Lying un-feminist whore! You’re brainwashed by the patriarchy and you only think you have agency!”, into which we shall not presently delve.)

I think it’s hard to see intent when it’s sexualized. So many of us take sexual desire for granted that we fail to acknowledge that there is any intent. And we get so much out of sex that when the benefit goes unacknowledged, the desire for unusual sexual practices can seem like the problem rather than their lack of fulfilment. I.e.: We all understand crankiness about not getting laid, but crankiness about not getting to kick a man in the balls can seem a little crazy.

Many masochists enjoy self-play, too, where they inflict pain on themselves. Flogging, clamps, CBT, solo bondage, temperature, and chemicals are just a few I’ve heard. To an uninformed observer, the activities and secrecy could look just like self-harm. But self-play is masturbation: hot, healthy, and normal.

Can sadomasochistic activities serve as outlets for depression, anxiety, and self-injurious urges? Sure. So could ice cream, red wine, massage (rolfing, anyone?), and exercise.

Ultimately, the only person who knows if you’re self-harming is you — unless you desperately lack self-awareness, which is a fixable situation. If you or your friends are worried, I encourage you to read up on both BDSM and self-harm or talk to a therapist.