Forbidden, Extremities, Taste, Imagination, Subjective, Hunger
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Eurythmics Sex Crime (Nineteen Eighty Four)
noun: a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body, etc.
Our minds are complex tools, intricately woven pieces of kit which enable consciousness, perception, judgement and memory. They are made up of 50-100 billion neurons that constantly interact with one another, sending electrical currents to every nerve ending and informing our every choice. Needless to say, every mind is totally individual, has its own exclusive way of processing information. It’s fascinating to me that the simplest of commands entails so much data being processed and transferred and, while we spend our whole lives attempting to figure out our own minds, it will always remain a mystery to some degree.
Scientific research may be flourishing but it can’t truly get a handle on what really makes our engines purr. I take solace in that, we spend so much time searching for solutions when sometimes it’s better not to have the answers mapped out on a spreadsheet. Ambiguity can be grossly underrated, and often ignorance can be bliss. During my breakdown I had a number of therapists digging around in my cranium for answers to my condition. All that really did was to prod the hornet’s nest and supply some painful questions, for which I had no solutions.
Fetishes belong to every one of us and are idiosyncratic to each. To some of us, feet can be the most erotic part of the human body whilst others find them unsightly and deeply unarousing. It’s ultimately all subjective; what makes us unique. Personally I sit on the fence here, I find them fascinating in the extreme and a well pedicured set of walkers would be welcome pressing against my groin or indeed being licked and softly bitten.
During the summer months, when the toes become painted and flip-flops and open-toed sandals are donned, I spend most of my time looking towards the ground. There is something erotic about them, for sure. But they can be most unsightly and cause shivers too. Cracked heels, disproportionate second toes and the little toe which appears not to even fit the criteria can all be extreme turn-offs and for many a game-breaker. Fledgling couples cover them up for the most part throughout the early process of courtship, just in case they hit an unpleasant nerve with the potential suitor.
Lovemaking couples in this stage jump between the sheets with nowt on their personage but socks, pleading that the reason for their choice is the cold in the air, when nine times out of ten they’re concealing an ingrowing nail or unsightly bunion. Our feet take the weight of the entire body and are responsible for the miles clocked up during the day so it’s only right they’d be the first part to show signs of fatigue. But there’s no denying the arousal they can induce, not to me anyhow. I’m with Quentin on that count, maybe not quite as obsessive as he (Uma Thurman’s wiggling toes probably supply his perpetual mental screen saver), but they serve many a purpose.
I touched upon S&M and bondage during my recent S.E.X. piece, another thing regarded as taboo by many whilst, to others, it can supply all the kinky kicks they crave. Traditionally, this is explored a little later in the relationship, when both parties have reached a certain level of trust. Couples looking to revive their fortunes in the sack often look at light bondage as a way of keeping things on an even keel. Handcuffs generally are the first to get a run out in such scenarios or, if no pairs are handy, scarves and rope fill in nicely.
The more submissive among us are happy to be bound, gagged and ‘owned’ whereby the partner assuming the more domineering stance enjoy nothing more than cracking the whip, so to speak. Corsets, crotchless leather panties, riding crops and ten-inch stilettos are widely available in sex shops as it represents big business. Some visit fetish clubs in the safe knowledge that their perversions will be understood and reciprocated whereas others are only truly comfortable practicing within the confines of their own intimate quarters.
My stance on S&M? I can see the appeal for sure, and light bondage is a wonderful tool with which to get creative but am I the only person who considers having my back walked upon by stilettos slightly demented? Again, it’s personal choice and a lot depends on your pain threshold I suppose but, when working out the balance between pleasure and pain, I consider it to stack things a little too much in the direction of downright agony.
Recently my perception has altered somewhat, before learning to bleed through quill I actually self-harmed on a couple of occasions. This was never to seek attention and bizarrely not even to hurt myself, but to act as a release valve when pressure just got too intense. The funny thing is, and I take a risk by admitting this, it felt good at the time but the reason for this was purely release. By utilizing my overflow system and feeling tangible pain, there was instant relief from the mental pressures threatening to suck away my resolve. I would never advocate such extremities but, at that juncture, it was all I could do to remain sane.
Weeks later I sat in a psych ward awaiting consultation and believing, through others’ hype, that I may have mild schizophrenia. Thing is, I knew this wasn’t the case, sectioning me would only detach me more from reality and, considering my idyllic home-life had been callously ripped from underneath me, I was well within my rights to ‘act a little out of sorts’. But I knew my mind, and this was confirmed as the “expert” laughed off any suggestion of split personality. He stated that I was actually in a better place than even I considered. It ended up a half-time pep talk and I left feeling revitalized and ready to get back to my dear friend’s shed to commence my bleed.
The whole debacle just highlighted to me that jabbing a pen in my throat, whilst misguided in the extreme and not ever endorsed by Keeper, actually released a fair few pheromones which kinda felt hot. Is that twisted? It’s not right? In the bedroom I would now consider myself far more receptive to the distribution of ‘light’ pain to heighten the pleasure. Fuck, you could hang me up like Christmas lights and jab me with a tazer (minimum voltage I add) and chances are I’d get some kind of perverted gratification from it. Find what works for you, make sure the balance is right and you are both comfortable in your chosen roles and just go for it I say.
Role-playing is totally benign, cosplayers the world over bust out their outfits for personal usage in the bedroom. Wizards, orcs and necromancers cast sexual spells for some, the Keeper’s preferences lean more towards nurses in suspenders, pig-tailed school uniform wearing, lollipop sucking, bad girls in knee-highs. But should the elven ears have to come out then, fuck it, I’m always learning, who am I to deny myself any opportunities in life? One thing which deeply disturbs me is the concept of reverting back to childhood. Whilst understanding that, for some, unhappy growth or a lack of affection causes deep-rooted issues in later life, it’s no reason to wear a bonnet and shit yourself is it? At no point has changing a diaper been an erotic experience. Horses for courses I suppose, but that to me is a bridge way too far.
Exhibitionism is another source of arousal which can lead to outlandish actions being taken. I fully endorse this as I find something deeply arousing about the danger of being found out. When stress was at its most unruly, before I learned that the Quill acted as a valve, I used to become so overrun with pent-up frustration that the only means of release was through standing in my back garden, smoking a joint and letting it all ‘hang free’. I’d even put the night-light on to proudly advertise my state of undress.
Would I have been mortified had someone have spotted me? Probably yes. But no sooner than I would run in sheepishly, I’d probably have one hand on the shower-wall, one lubricated finger inside me and clenching the shower loafer with my teeth. I’m nothing if not candid, you should all be aware of such at this juncture. If we’re all brutally honest with ourselves, we know I’m not alone don’t we? I’d wager there are motorists out there who sit upright at the wheel in shirts and ties, butt-naked from the waist down. Look for signs, if you’re at the lights and a fellow traveler squirms uncomfortably, alongside an elevated trucker licking his lips, then you know there’s something fishy going down.
A visit to your local nightclub or wine-bar will enlighten as to exhibitionism. The outfits become more and more revealing, skirts shorter, panties no longer a requisite, under-wire a necessity and pairs of old gym socks tucked inside those skinny jeans. Normal rules don’t apply once copious amounts of alcohol are introduced and it’s not totally unheard of for numerous breasts or mooned-buttocks to make an appearance. Even the odd member or growler, should enough shots be necked.
Inhibitions are shed in the safe knowledge that most of these people would’ve forgotten the evening by dawn anyhoots. One of my favorite pastimes would be to drive-by these establishments at closing time in the dead of winter, in my toasty automobile; whilst observing these short-sighted flesh-revelers standing around shivering at the taxi rank awaiting the next wagon. A dash of hypothermia with their hangovers the next morning doesn’t deter them. On the contrary, the next week they’re back in line convulsing like epileptics in a strobe tent.
Delving into the realms of human surplus is next, namely water-sports. Most folk would shy away from discussing such a perversion but when has Keeper ever retreated from any topic? Exactly, y’all wouldn’t have it any other way. On the whole, this is a water-themed activity which only gets explored when couples are really relaxed with one another and the bathroom door is kept ajar as they go about their business. Urine is sterile so it’s not as deranged as some think, although it is admittedly a real niche thing.
Am I all in? Fuck it, I’m all in. I’ve had one botched run-out with water-sports. I was in a long-term relationship, dual bath-time was a regular occurrence, my then partner needed to go and I requested that she relieve herself on my back, just out of curiosity (and thoughtfulness as it saved the short hike to the latrine). She agreed to my suggestion and let out the faintest of trickles on my spine which, I have to hold my hands up, wasn’t such a bad experience. Unfortunately, she then requested we switch positions.
Now, Keeper’s bladder is notoriously strong, visits to the little boys room are scant and it backfired in spectacular fashion. As I stood astride her and commenced to fire my cannon, I discovered I had not unticked the infinite ammo perk. As the water began to change coloration and she flapped like a dry-land Bass, I discovered it was an endeavor we would not be repeating in the future.
That’s all I’ve got; there is, of course a rather small demographic who take things one step further but personally I find the concept of another taking a steaming sloppy shit on my sternum a less than delightful prospect, thank you very much.
It only seems fitting to conclude with anal. Some folk guard their ‘Passage to India’ passionately, clenching both cheeks for dear life, in case of revealing the Eye of Sauron to their other halves. Others pay for the ominous privilege of asshole-bleaching in order to retain the ‘correct’ coloration. For some unfortunates a bunch of hemorrhoids stand as gatekeepers and the thought cannot even be entertained.
For those open enough to explore, the benefits are off-the-chart. I’m well and truly perched in favor of, there are G-spots tucked away inside waiting to be twerked, increased friction and an overall feeling of being a little more animistic also add weight to the claims. I’m all for it, so long as practiced with care.
So there we have it Grueheads, a handful of fetishes and I’m aware there are many others not delved into. As is always the case with Keeper, anything requested can still be waxed upon. Should their be a particular fetish which stokes your loin-fires then I would only be too happy to oblige with an extension. Right now however, I’m going to change out of these ten-inch stilettos. Almost out of smokes and they’re a bastard to walk in anyway.
Sin is subjective,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013
What’s Your Pleasure Mr Cotton?