If you missed last week's show, and want to whet your appetite for tonight's podcast at 8pm eastern time, listen to what we said about bondage.
Jen and I go where few people have ever gone, talking both about our personal experiences with bondage, our favorite toys, and in-depth discussion about why some people confuse erotic bondage with the nonconsensual kind. I say "intentionality" is everything in sex.
You can listen to the show live every Sunday at 8pm on Spreaker -- don't forget to "follow us" while you're there.
But by the next day, I was so ashamed I never wanted to do it again. It completely conflicted with my pacifist/hippie/feminist philosophies. I was fresh out of a Women's Studies class and a card-carrying NOW member, and had learned that expression of female aggression is an emulation of the patriarchal paradigm.
It took me YEARS to overcome that bullshit, the idea that all negative female behavior is a response to male behavior. Studying sex and gender science, and later my life experience a a dominatrix, showed me that female aggression is as real and potentially lethal as male aggression.
I was sexually aggressive. I also had a conscience. When I finally found people who wanted me to be aggressive, who got off on me being sadistic and controlling, then the real me could really live.
Because I read this poem in my youth, and agreed completely. Like so many of the themes in CP Cavafy's poems, the message that it is a poet's duty never to fear the realities of sex became a guidestone for my intellectual life.
And I Lounged and Lay on Their Beds
When I went to that house of pleasure
I didn't stay in the front rooms where they celebrate,
with some decorum, the accepted modes of love.
I went into the secret rooms
and lounged and lay on their beds.
I went into the secret rooms
considered shameful even to name.
But not shameful to me -because if they were,
what kind of poet, what kind of artist would I be?
I'd rather be an ascetic. That would be more in keeping,
much more in keeping with my poetry,
than for me to find pleasure in the commonplace rooms.
Come back often and take hold of me,
sensation that I love, come back and take hold of me --
when the body's memory revives
and an old longing again passes through the blood,
when lips and skin remember
and hands feel as though they touch again.
Come back often, take hold of me in the night
when lips and skin remember...
Said Myrtias (a Syrian student
in Alexandria during the reign
of the Emperor Konstans and the Emperor Konstantios;
in part a heathen, in part christianized):
"Strengthened by meditation and study,
I won't fear my passions like a coward;
I'll give my body to sensual pleasures,
to enjoyments I've dreamed of,
to the most audacious erotic desires,
to the lascivious impulses of my blood,
without being at all afraid, because when I wish-
and I'll have the will-power, strengthened
as I shall be by meditation and study-
when I wish, at critical moments I'll recover
my ascetic spirit as it was before.
So I found the above photo somewhere in my on-line travels a while ago, think for a piece about exotic restaurants, and tonight finally got around to posting it on FB, where I learned from one friend that this is called Nyotaimori. Thanks, David Hersh.
And then another friend reminisced about the time, long ago, when she enjoyed a sushi-based oral orgy with a friend....and then recalled she still had a photo....so...OMG, THANKS, EDEN, for sharing this amazing glimpse of your utter deliciousness!
Have you noticed yet that everything pulpy and adventure-y in the 1950s and 1960s was also very kinky? Here are two magazines with a penchant for sex slaves and other perversions. What makes it particularly intriguing to me is that this was all happening during and shortly after the McCarthy era, when simply being known as a perv could mean involuntary institutionalization or imprisonment. You can tell by how the editors frame the stories (the most tantalizing kinky sex acts are committed ONLY by monsters against victims) that they are playing both sides of the fence: appearing to condemn while satisfying the reader's craving for kink.
In addition to the fact that the dominatrix has a uniquely scrumptious physique (does anyone recognize this beauty?), the sweetly devious bondage and the look on the sub's face are an exquisite combination.