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Very spankable tushy courtesy of Retro Raunch

I’ve been thinking a lot about kink lately. I’ve spent many a happy moment in the last week with my ass in the air receiving lovely swats at it from Jay. And that feels good, I like the pain and the sting. I like the noise and the opportunity to cry out. I love the way that my ass wiggles with each thwack and I can feel the sensation travel through me, jostling my body and making me wetter.

Then I get philosophical, does this make me a masochist? Am I just enduring the sensation for the thrill of the accomplishment? Or perhaps just because it translates to the tingling arousal that washes over me. When we distill it all down to sensations, what is so different about a loving caress and a hard, firm smack? If they accomplish the same thing and make me feel the same way are they any different?

Most people would lean towards one of two answers for this quandary. The first response would be that being bent over and spanked is an act of submission. Even if I’m not tied up or calling him Master or any of the other trappings that might come with it. Certainly I see this argument, the position is vulnerable and helpless. While there isn’t punishment going on, I feel controlled perhaps by the pain or maybe by the pleasure. But I am under a spell in those moments. The problem here is that all pleasure is submission by this regard. And if staring at my ass and whacking it hard is a sensation that Jay enjoys (he does!) then who is really submitting? We are both giving ourselves over to pleasure, both enjoying the activity, neither truly passive or wholly active.

So, if I am not being submissive in this moment, perhaps I am being humiliated in some way. Indeed, spanking brings people back to childhood, to memories of punishment and shame. Enjoying spanking is a conflicted lot, and produces strong taboos and triggers for many people. But what if I don’t feel this shame? What if my childhood spankings take no hold on me when I am, joyously, waiting for each thud on my rear?

Again, that leaves us with sensation. Each nerve acting in turn sending signals of pleasure and pain to the brain. Sometimes twisting along the way. The sound emits from the meeting of skin on skin and the ragged protests and gutteral moans and sharp cries that come out of my body. Can it be transcendent if I am not submitting, if I am not humiliated? If we are just two equals sharing pleasure and pain and the shock of something wholly different and unexpected?

I think I am pretty happy realizing that this might not be about dominance and submission at all. Or at least it doesn’t have to be. Those of you that are happy spankers and spankees, share your ideas with me on this!

So, I am known for my anger and rage that is directed at most dating sites. I don’t usually fare much better on social networks. However, I have an exception to that rule (as of this moment at least).

I learned about FetLife while I was at Sex 2.0 and I signed up when I got home. Honestly, I’m really impressed. Even really angry people are impressed.

The founder of the site is engaged with members and seems to go out of his way to make things work. The site is smooth, runs quickly and doesn’t have a bunch of useless features that no one uses.

Honestly, it just works and the people seem to work as well. So, join up and find me (username: ellie_lumpesse) and we can totes be friends in kink and depravity (as if we weren’t already!)

I’ve been threatening to write this post for awhile. It has been on the tip of my tongue, ready to come out. But I’ve been utterly unaware of what I want to say. You, dear reader, are a passive bystander to this, not the participant that I desire in this moment.

Instead, this post is for myself, it is a discussion with my own brain. But there is someone else at stake as well, there is Marc.

Who is Marc? Well, thanks for asking. The simple answer (and really the whole answer) is that he is a friend. One with a conflict and one that has me conflicted.

Lets imagine for a moment and perform a philosophical exercise. Are you with me? First we need to establish the preliminaries that you may already know. I like sex, I like exploration, I’m a junky for the excitement of a new relationship, and . . . I feel something new lately. A desire to submit. I don’t want a collar or a leash or for anyone to call me slave. I don’t want to pretend I am being captured by a pirate or call someone Master or start capitalizing pronouns inappropriately. No, I want to submit.

But I only know what that doesn’t mean not what it does mean. I am sure there are some of you out there biting your tongues. You are perfectly prepared to tell me what it means and how I should do it and with whom, where, and for how long. Honestly, and with the most respect in the world, and all of the love that I have for you, shut the fuck up. I know that was pre-emptive and bitchy and cruel but I can be all of those things and this is something I need to figure out for myself.

Oh, thats right, I was telling you about Marc. He is a sarcastic asshole, he has cats, he has been smacking pretty girls on the ass (and hard) for the past 20 years and he spends a lot of time in conflict. He worries if he is a misogynist because he looks at a woman that he cares about and respects and he shows her that by causing her pain and lording over her. He doesn’t feel like this helps him attract very healthy women.

Why would I want to get involved with that? Good question. I wish I had a complete answer. Perhaps it is just alluring to me and mysterious and I am wanting to chart new territory and experience new adventures. But, I want to think it goes beyond that.

When Marc talks, I want to listen. I am not docile or submissive but, instead, receptive. Accepting and learning and analyzing. He doesn’t think he is perfect and he doesn’t want me to think that he is, in fact the faults that I see make him more attractive because I think that we could teach things to each other.

There is something else, though, the problem or the solution (depending on how you see it). He is brutal. And brutality is beautiful in that eerie abstract way but do I want brutality acted out on the curves of my body? Branded onto me in the form of welts and bruises? Will it take me somewhere new, will it teach me something?

I don’t know that it will do good things for me, all I know is that I want it. I want him. My intelligent brain takes the things that he says and wraps them up into a neat package and attempts to set them aside as too extreme, too intense, too real. My gut steals them away, sequesters them next to the root of my desire and parcels them out beyond my will where my toes curl and my blood pulses and my mind rings with curiosity and longing.

And so I am left with my conflict and it occupies my mind in the quiet moments. And he will see this and know better than to think it is a love letter but it may put his mind in motion as well.

Download Episode #14 of Bedroom Radio

Holy Cow! It is a new episode of Bedroom Radio!
Wherein I:
Talk about the sexy sexy parts of Sex 2.0
Play a great song by the Magnetic Fields (lyrics)
Get a serious spanking

Our websites:
Bedroom Radio - bedroomradio.blogspot.com
Ellie’s Blog - www.lumpesse.com
Ellie’s Twitter - www.twitter.com/ellie_lumpesse
Jay’s Blog - eternalapprentice.blogsome.com

Questions, comments, cock shots? lumpesse (at) gmail.com

People and things mentioned in the show:
Amber Rhea
Melissa Gira
Sex 2.0
Regina Lynn
Rachel Kramer Bussel
Kimberlee Cline
Cunning Minx
Sakura Sarashi
Mistress Maeve
Viviane
Furry Girl
Match

So, in general most of us ladies aren’t big fans of pedophiles. I feel pretty confident speaking for my gender on that one. As such, we aren’t interested in romantic partners that are pedophiles. However, I assume that when guys are talking to me, since I’m not a young girl, they aren’t pedophiles. I know that isn’t perfect logic but there are a lot of other brands of creepy that I concern myself with before worrying about a potential mate being a pedophile.

This is why I was amused, nay, concerned when I was chatting with a dude that went out of his way to tell me on 3 separate occasions that he isn’t a pedophile. It would go like this:

Ellie: Some totally normal, mundane crap that I say to people. Not regarding pedophiles.
Guy: not a pedo here, trust me.
Ellie: Um, okay good.
Guy: i was just feeling u out. there are a lot of police knowadays looking for pedophiles and the life, and trust me, i’m not one, however, i guess i’m more or less looking for a relationship with a person my age
Ellie: Right. More crap that I say.
Blah
Blah
Blah
Guy: for pedophiles and the like…………………………………………
Ellie: WTF?

Then I blocked him. I think a preoccupation with pedophiles is enough to deter me.

I love the chance to tease someone. When he lets me say exactly what to do, waits on my every word for instructions. I love hearing his ragged breathing as he begs for just one more stroke, one more chance to touch his engorged member.

“No,” I say, “Not yet. I just want you to listen for now.”

He listens to the sounds of me as I stroke my wet pussy. Describing for him in excruciating detail how I am moving my fingers over my wetness, teasing my clit. I remind him frequently that his hands shouldn’t be on his cock right now. Then I relent a bit and give him what he wants.

“Alright, stroke your cock for a moment, but you must stop when I’m done counting to 10.”

He yearns to reach his release before I say 10 but misses it just at the cusp. I hear the disappointment echo in his exhale. I have him frustrated and weak. My pussy drips thinking about the control I am exercising.

I coo in his ear and tell him that I’m about to slide a nice thick toy into my pussy. I let him listen to me fuck myself. As I come, I allow him to touch himself but only with his fingertips. I can almost hear him trying to figure out how he might be able to make himself come with that sort of stimulation.

The play goes on. More 10 second count downs. More near misses. More yearning and begging as I get more turned on by my power.

I bet you’re wondering now if I ever let the poor man come. I guess you’ll have to keep waiting. After all, we’ve established that I’m a tease.

Feeling Domme-y lately

I’m craving the chance to tease the hell out of a grovelling man. Something has gotten into me this evening and I desperately want a slave boy at my feet, staring up at me adoringly, and praying that I will treat him with kindness. I don’t want to treat him with kindness.

I want him bound and beaten. I want him to take my strap on or suck the cock of whatever real man I have sitting around at the moment. I want to tease him with peeks at my stockings, panties, cleavage but not let him touch himself.

I want him to beg me for release and laugh in his face. Give him the chance to smell my skin and then slap him. There is no satisfaction for the weak-willed in my mind tonight.

I’ve been sitting on these pictures for ages, can’t recall why I haven’t published them yet. I’m hoping to take more with this photographer soon.

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