In the decade that I’ve been experimenting in kink, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve moved a particular activity from the “maybe,” “I guess,” or “I honestly have no idea” categories in my brain over to the “hell yes!” column. What I have not experienced often, however, is the near-sudden migration of a hard limit into constant fantasy fodder.
Face slapping was one such rarity.
kink
Under The Sexual Microscope
“Are you…studying me?”
My eyes, which I had reflexively closed in the throes of my passion, had managed to flutter open, and they landed on the face of my (relatively new) partner. The expression upon it contained the expected lust, but even more noticeable was a look of intellectual curiosity, one I’d seen on him in sexual situations before. It was like he was cataloging me.
“What?”
We’d been dating for a few weeks at this point, and our chemistry was undeniable. We were entangled on my couch, with me in a disheveled state of undress and him knuckle-deep in my cunt.
“Something about the way you look at me when we’re fooling around, it’s like…like I’m an intriguing science experiment to you.”
He laughed, kissed me, and asked, “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” I breathed in a reply that was more sigh than word, as at that moment, he began again with his machinations below my waist.
Continue readingCirque du Danger: How I Fell In Love With Aerial Silks
I collapse onto my back, sweating and panting heavily. I’m flushed, both from the heat of the room and the flood of endorphins, and I can’t stop grinning. My muscles are deliciously sore from use, and I can already feel bruises beginning to form on my hips and thighs.
But I’m not in my bedroom, at a play party, or in a dungeon, and I haven’t just had sex or bottomed in a scene. I’m in a fitness studio, surrounded by little else but about eight other women, a bunch of mats, and fabric dangling from the ceiling.
Continue readingTwo Collars, One Sub, No Dom: Reflections on Self-Collaring
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, one of my favorite things about the kink community is our ability to tailor our kinks and dynamics to fit our needs, to attach as much or as little meaning as we like to certain words, phrases, objects, or body language. Collars, of course, are no exception: for some, they are akin to wedding rings, symbols of a deep commitment that are only to be donned after much time and consideration. For others, a collar is more of an aesthetic choice, a method of signaling to other kinksters in the wild.
Personally, I fall somewhere in the middle, and it’s very dependent on context. There were sexual encounters with a former FWB during which I wore a collar for little more than the utility of it; while I cared about him, I wasn’t romantically attached to him, and though we played with some power exchange, I wasn’t his submissive. I wore a collar sometimes when we’d play together, but I wasn’t collared.
With my ex-partner and Dominant, the idea of a collar meant a lot more. Several months into our relationship, we picked out a lovely purple leather posture collar at a sex shop together, which we used during scenes. Then, for our first anniversary, he purchased a beautiful silver o-ring pendant, which I wore nearly every day as a subtle day collar until our breakup. While not on wedding ring level for us, they certainly were imbued with meaning, symbolic of our commitment to each other – at least, that’s what they meant to me, as I suppose I shouldn’t speak for him. I got rid of both after our relationship ended, but the necklace was harder to let go; had I not left it in his car immediately after, when I was still in full quiet rage mode, I don’t know if I would have been able to part with it.
It’s been over 5 months now, but it’s still a little strange, not having it around my neck every day. And now that I’ve had time to heal and rediscover both my sex drive and my submission, I’ve found myself longing to wear a collar again – not because there’s anyone currently in my life to collar me, but because I want to better acknowledge, cultivate, and celebrate my submissive identity in and of itself.
In short, I think I want to collar myself.
Continue readingChoose Your Own Adventure: Kink Dynamic Edition
I first realized that I was submissive about 10 years ago, at the age of 20 and in the middle of my first “adult” relationship, i.e. my first relationship that hadn’t begun in high school. Looking back now, my kinks manifested in various ways prior to that – including a childhood period of fascination with historical methods of corporal punishment – but it wasn’t until college that I was able to attach a label to those desires.
Labels can be helpful. As I’ve written before, discovering words to accurately describe my queerness was a revelation, and finding labels to reflect my burgeoning kinks was equally eye-opening. But labels can also be restrictive, when they almost fit but not quite – like a pair of leggings that’s just a bit too tight. Suddenly, you find yourself uncomfortable, self-conscious, and questioning why you ever put the damn things on in the first place.
Continue readingHermione Danger Wrote Some Erotica
I first wrote this a couple of years ago for my old blog, but I rediscovered it recently when going through some old documents. I still really like it, so I decided to polish it a bit and post it again. Enjoy. ❤
Hermione Danger Recommends #1: The Dildorks
Hermione Danger Recommends is a new series where I recommend a piece of media – TV show, book, podcast, etc – that centers on sex, feminism, and/or social justice issues.
When I started planning this blog series, I began making a list of media I wanted to discuss. Soon, I had enough material for a year’s worth of monthly posts, and the ideas kept on coming. However, it was never a question which one would be my first-ever recommendation; it was always going to be The Dildorks.
On Platonic Bunnying
Recently, I spent a lovely evening with three of my friends: a couple with whom I am very close, and another of our mutual friends. We drank, ate burgers from the grill, sweltered in the Midwestern summer heat, and chatted about various things, including politics and some drama that’s been happening in our friend group.
Oh, and for about an hour, I was being tied up in the living room.
The Aerial Feminist 