I don’t know how long it’s been since I was last properly belted. A year at least, maybe two. It’s not the end of the world. I love kink, and I adore being used and abused, but my desires are incredibly responsive, so I’m far less concerned about finding a relationship that ticks off all the spanky acts on my submissive wishlist than I am about building connection with someone I love. Still. One of the nice things about leaving a relationship is remembering all the opportunities that you once packed away with a shrug, which you can now dust off again. And as I rummage through a box marked ‘things I can do now I’m single’, getting belted just happens to lie on the top. Luckily for me, a mate made it her mission to drag me up off the floor from the pool of wine and tears in which I was lying, and force me outside to have fun. Let me tell you about my friend, the Queen of the Dungeon.

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I am positively gleeful about today’s guest blog, team – it’s a gloriously sexy celebration of power and strength and softness and grappling sexily until your opponent submits. Courtesy of the fabulous Bunny Harper, who is here to talk about erotic wrestling, and how a sport she had once been pushed out of became something she reclaimed with eroticism and power. I adore this piece, and I know many of you will too – check out Bunny’s blog here and read her amazing piece on erotic wrestling below!

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As a massive hedonist, I want you to find your joy. No one else in your life can ever have your happiness as their top priority (which is right – only you can truly know all the things that will bring you pleasure), so it probably needs to be a high priority for you. Around this time of year, some of you will likely have broken – or be about to break – one or more of the punitive resolutions you set yourself on the first of January. Restricting pleasure or causing yourself pain in the name of self improvement. I’m not qualified to tell you how to live a healthy or virtuous life, but if you want to make resolutions you can stick to, I have a few tips from the hedonist gutter that might help you set ones you’re less inclined to break.

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For some reason I worry that it might be offensive to admit this. Apologies if it is, I sincerely hope it isn’t: it’s a very real fear and I think I need to talk about it. Like the best horror films, I think this fear comes from the unknown. Or – worse – the partially known. I understand that menopause can give you vaginal dryness and hot flushes. I know that other changes happen as well, in your body and to your… I actually find it hard to write this down, so great is my terror at the potential loss of it… libido. I know enough about the menopause to understand that I definitely do not ever want it to happen to me. But I also know that it’s a privilege to go through. Ageing is a gift: it means I’m not dead yet. Bodies change all the time so we shouldn’t be frightened of change and… oh fuck. Sorry. Yeah. I can’t sugar-coat this, really: I am absolutely terrified of the menopause.

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I did my hair nicely today. I wanted you to love the way it looks so much you’d grab a fistful and yank my head in for a biting kiss. I feel pretty today, I made myself pretty today. And I only did it because I want you to fuck me up.

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