I am a total sucker for beautiful descriptions of BDSM, so when this week’s guest blogger popped up in the comments on a blog about subspace, it made me really shivery. Today he’s here to go into a bit more detail, specifically about one of the most intense kink implements: the cane.

Please welcome BibulousOne – if you’re a fan of the cane, you’ll probably have a lot in common…

Update: he now has his own sex blog, so click the link to check out more of his writing.

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There’s a man who is half-human and half-legend. He is fierce, strong, powerful. He can pick you up with his bare hands, flip you over his knee, and give you a spanking so perfect that it will transport you to a new realm of ecstasy. Afterwards he will fuck you so skilfully that you will become aware of a new level of orgasmic joy.

That man is the Superdom.

If you’re lucky enough to meet him, it will probably be on a kink forum somewhere. Perhaps he will write a post explaining to other, lesser Doms how to control a submissive, hinting that if you’re lucky you could be one of them. Maybe he slides into your private messages with an order to “Obey.” If you don’t immediately slick your knickers/pop a huge, granite-hard boner, then you are probably not the submissive for him. He does not want your questions or your negotiation: he demands only your unquestioning obedience.

Superdom, sadly, is all too real. I met a fair few incarnations of him when I was pretty active on the kink scene. He’d look at you with smouldering eyes, and tell you exactly what he was going to do. He’d usually let you know that you could only come if he ordered you to, and that you’d come at exactly the moment he specified (yeah, right). He’d give you lists of punishments and tasks and insist on you calling him ‘Sir’, even if you’d never agreed to submit to him.

He was a dick.

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I panic about everything, regardless of whether it’s actually worth panicking about. Good friends, acquaintances and even my own Mum: all these people are in the dark about the terror I have when I hit ‘send’ on an email to them and then immediately imagine everything collapsing around me, when they interpret a casual joke as a genuine insult. Don’t get me started on the times I have to assert myself or the things that actually matter…

Because of my permanent ‘red alert’ anxiety levels, when this week’s guest blogger got in touch with an idea about getting nervous before a BDSM scene, I leapt on it.

January Chopin is here to give you a gorgeously personal, amazingly hot, tinglingly nervewracking account of a BDSM scene. And I think a lot of people will see themselves in it…

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A few weeks ago, Mary wrote the first in her three-part story about virginity. It began with A, a guy she met on Tinder, moved swiftly through some sexy outdoor fumbles, and into a Travelodge with lube and sandwiches.

Now she’s back with the third part of her story, to let you know what happened next.

Massive thank you to Mary for writing the series: one of the reasons I love hosting guest bloggers is that it shows me a whole bunch of different perspectives. While I can bang on about what ‘virginity’ means to me, or tell you stories about first times of my own, I don’t own a monopoly on sex, and if it were just me shouting my fantasies into the void then this blog would be a really boring (and probably slightly creepy) place.

So. Read parts one and two of Mary’s story, get stuck in to part three, and if you have an experience or perspective on something that you’d like to share, please do pitch me a guest blog for 2016.

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Two words that will have me elevate your hotel from a four to a five-star review on Trip Advisor: wet room. But seeing as I like wet rooms because I sometimes enjoy watersports, you might not actually want me to stay in your hotel, to be honest. But we clean up thoroughly after ourselves, and I guess what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

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