Listen: someone needs to license Jenby’s work for a graphic novel about kinky adventures. There is already plenty of material, and it is funny and sexy and brilliant. If you have loads of money, go give it to @JenetalTorture to turn this into a book please. If you haven’t got loads of money, then you are welcome to simply enjoy today’s excellent guest post. After sharing a glorious account of her first e-stim session last week, Jenby is trotting back for a second week running to give you the lowdown on pony play.

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The fantasies which happen in my head are consensual. The fantasies which happen in my head are often non-consensual. It sounds like a logical fallacy: how can something be both consensual and non-consensual at the same time? The answer is that, of course, the ‘non-consent’ in my fantasies is only an illusion: the participants in my head are not real, the only real person here – the only one who needs to consent – is me. But when those fantasies leak out of my head onto the page or screen, readers – real live people – become a part of what’s happening, and their consent matters as well. Let’s talk about the ethics of writing consensual non-consent fantasies.

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It’s really easy to talk about how sexy you are when you do stuff. When you perform delicate tasks with precision, or say things that make me melt. And logic might dictate that it’s harder to see why you’re sexy when you do absolutely fuck all, but that isn’t always the case.

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I do a lot of press to promote this site. Not just interviews with journalists – the word ‘press’ basically covers any and everything that I do for free to give other people content and help me promote my work: interviews, podcasts, quotes for articles, and other bits and pieces. I’m totally cool with doing this, it is the primary (and most valuable) method of promoting what I do. But with one caveat: it’s only valuable if people actually link. Understandably, many sites are reluctant to link to adult websites, so I thought I’d write a quick overview on how to do it ethically, and why it’s so important.

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I don’t want to write this post. The very idea of dragging the words from my head makes me want to cringe into a tiny ball. But I’m going to talk about butt plug accidents anyway. My reasons will become clear towards the end of the post but before I begin, a warning and a request. Warning: this post contains scenes that are a bit uncomfortable, especially if you’re not into anal stuff and are easily panicked. Request: if you know me in real life, I would genuinely rather you didn’t read this. It’s mostly because I feel I can be funnier and more honest about this incident if I don’t have to anticipate jokey conversations about it in the pub, during which I have to relive all the feelings that this incident triggered in my fluttery, panic-laden heart. So. If you know me, don’t read this. If you choose to read it anyway, pretend you haven’t. Deal? OK let’s go.

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