The Blurb

Both ski socks and flip flops are pretty everyday objects (if you are the kind of exciting person who, like me, likes to go to snowy mountains and tropical beaches, not if you are a boring recluse). Most of what I write about will, I suspect, seem slightly crazy to your average 'vanilla'. But, to me, kink is so integrated into my life that I sometimes don't notice that it is a bit odd.

Ski socks and flip flops are also both totally contradictory to each other. This, in part, reflects the fact that I go by the online psuedonym 'Walking Oxymoron'. But it also explains me very well. I do not look like someone who you might imagine to be a sexual deviant. When out and about, I don't act any differently from anyone else. In fact, I like to think that I appear fairly innocent and demure.

This blog is about the other side of me - my dark side. Specifically, the emotional side of it. Behind the whips and canes and other fun things is a variety of very normal 'vanilla' feelings. They just choose to display themselves in some unconventional places...

Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Big Brother

I have recently been in contact with a man who enjoys using true historical articles to base his roleplay scenes on. For me, there is a very important text on which I have based one of my deepest roleplay fantasies. It is not a historical text as such, but reflects the history of an alternate society. I am, of course, talking about my Orwellian fantasies. I have been thinking about these in much more detail lately.

"Another, quite different voice, a thin, cultivated voice...struck in. 'And by the way, while we are on the subject, "Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!"' "

That moment of realisation. Of fear. Of acceptance that you have been caught, and that you have no control over what happens next.

One day, I am given a set of ideals by which a society lives. They read something like the following:

Masturbation is highly frowned upon.
A good work ethic is of great value.
A healthy body is a healthy mind.
Wholesome sexual activity is the only way forwards.... and so it goes on.

I am then left to interpret the rules myself.

I live by these guidelines as best I can for a length of time. Of course, not knowing exactly what the rules are makes them very difficult to follow. I know that I must have done something wrong somewhere along the line, and I know that, if anyone has found out, that I will be punished for it. But how could anyone have found out?

One evening, I am sitting down and relaxing in front of the TV. Out of nowhere, a voice comes over the speakers: 'Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!' Suddenly, my front door bursts open. A man bursts through my door. Although I cannot see his face, I recognise his uniform. Thought Police. Ungood. FUCK.

I want to run, but I know that there is no point. He is armed, and, if I know anything of the Thought Police, it is that they won't have left anything to chance. I stand frozen on the spot. Unceremoniously, my wrists are cuffed behind my back and I am hooded and bundled into the back of a van. 

I wake up. I am in a concrete cell. There is a toilet in the corner, and the rest of the room is empty, aside from a camera in one corner and speakers in another.

Over the speakers, I hear my name. 'Stand up. Turn around. No, the other way. Face down. Arms over your head.'

The rest, I'm afraid, is private :). Of course, I may share it with a lucky few...

Sunday, 13 January 2013

Burchill on Transgendered Women

A column from the Guardian (Author: Julie Burchill) this morning (13th Jan 2013). Absolutely appalling. My fiancee is a trans woman, and I would like to make it clear that this does not apply to her. As such, I have taken great offense to what Burchill has written. Further comments later (when I have time!).

"The brilliant writer Suzanne Moore and I go back a long way. I first met her when she was a young single mother living in a council flat; she took me out to interview me about my novel Ambition (republished by Corvus Books this spring, since you ask) for dear dead City Limits magazine. "I've got an entertaining budget of £12.50!" she said proudly. "Sod that, we're having lobster and champagne at Frederick's and I'm paying," I told her. Half a bottle of Bolly later, she looked at me with faraway eyes: "Ooo, I could get to like this…" And so she did.

"I have observed her rise to the forefront of this country's great polemicists with a whole lot of pride – and just a tiny bit of envy. I am godmother to her three brilliant, beautiful daughters. Though we differ on certain issues we will have each other's backs until the sacred cows come home.

"With this in mind, I was incredulous to read that my friend was being monstered on Twitter, to the extent that she had quit it, for supposedly picking on a minority – transsexuals. Though I imagine it to be something akin to being savaged by a dead sheep, as Denis Healey had it of Geoffrey Howe, I nevertheless felt indignant that a woman of such style and substance should be driven from her chosen mode of time-wasting by a bunch of dicks in chicks' clothing.

"To my mind – I have given cool-headed consideration to the matter – a gaggle of transsexuals telling Suzanne Moore how to write looks a lot like how I'd imagine the Black and White Minstrels telling Usain Bolt how to run would look. That rude and ridic.

"Here's what happened. In a book of essays called Red: The Waterstones Anthology, Suzanne contributed a piece about women's anger. She wrote that, among other things, women were angry about "not having the ideal body shape – that of a Brazilian transsexual". Rather than join her in decrying the idea that every broad should aim to look like an oven-ready porn star, the very vociferous transsexual lobby and their grim groupies picked on the messenger instead.

"I must say that my only experience of the trans lobby thus far was hearing about the vile way they have persecuted another of my friends, the veteran women's rights and anti-domestic violence activist Julie Bindel – picketing events where she is speaking about such minor issues as the rape of children and the trafficking of women just because she refuses to accept that their relationship with their phantom limb is the most pressing problem that women – real and imagined – are facing right now.
Similarly, Suzanne's original piece was about the real horror of the bigger picture – how the savagery of a few old Etonians is having real, ruinous effects on the lives of the weakest members of our society, many of whom happen to be women. The reaction of the trans lobby reminded me very much of those wretched inner-city kids who shoot another inner-city kid dead in a fast-food shop for not showing them enough "respect". Ignore the real enemy – they're strong and will need real effort and organisation to fight. How much easier to lash out at those who are conveniently close to hand!
But they'd rather argue over semantics. To be fair, after having one's nuts taken off (see what I did there?) by endless decades in academia, it's all most of them are fit to do. Educated beyond all common sense and honesty, it was a hoot to see the screaming mimis accuse Suze of white feminist privilege; it may have been this that made her finally respond in the subsequent salty language she employed to answer her Twitter critics: "People can just fuck off really. Cut their dicks off and be more feminist than me. Good for them."

"She, the other JB and I are part of the minority of women of working-class origin to make it in what used to be called Fleet Street and I think this partly contributes to the stand-off with the trannies. (I know that's a wrong word, but having recently discovered that their lot describe born women as 'Cis' – sounds like syph, cyst, cistern; all nasty stuff – they're lucky I'm not calling them shemales. Or shims.) We know that everything we have we got for ourselves. We have no family money, no safety net. And we are damned if we are going to be accused of being privileged by a bunch of bed-wetters in bad wigs.

"It's been noted before that cyberspace, though supposedly all new and shiny, is plagued by the age-old boredom of men telling women not to talk and threatening them with all kinds of nastiness if they persist in saying what they feel.

"The trans lobby is now saying that it wasn't so much the initial piece as Suzanne's refusal to apologise when told to that "made" them drive her from Twitter. Presumably she is meant to do this in the name of solidarity and the "struggle", though I find it very hard to imagine this mob struggling with anything apart from the English language and the concept of free speech.

"To have your cock cut off and then plead special privileges as women – above natural-born women, who don't know the meaning of suffering, apparently – is a bit like the old definition of chutzpah: the boy who killed his parents and then asked the jury for clemency on the grounds he was an orphan.
Shims, shemales, whatever you're calling yourselves these days – don't threaten or bully us lowly natural-born women, I warn you. We may not have as many lovely big swinging Phds as you, but we've experienced a lifetime of PMT and sexual harassment and many of us are now staring HRT and the menopause straight in the face – and still not flinching. Trust me, you ain't seen nothing yet. You really won't like us when we're angry."

Thursday, 10 January 2013


I have recently been discovering the joys of roleplay with the man that the internet knows as Lord Fawcett. After our first play session back in January, I have been playing with him on a semi-regular basis for the last few months. We have now done a variety of roleplay scenes. I have been a schoolgirl twice, a prisoner once and a pupil at a Victorian reformatory once. I am finding that these characters have allowed me to submit more deeply and feel more fulfilled without having to resort to intense pain or intense violence.

Take, for example, my most recent character: Crystal 'Slippery' Rose. Upon discussing what type of roleplay we were going to try next, we came up with the idea of a prison scene. I then came up with the idea of Crystal. This is what I sent to Lord Fawcett:

"DOB: 01/05/1994

"Age: 18

"Height: 5'4''.

"Weight: 11st.

"Intelligence: MENSA top 2%.

"Description: Redhead. Aptitude for sports (e.g. running away) gives athletic build. Extremely confident and talented in storytelling.

Crime committed: Fraud. Convicted for her part in the 'Great Botswana diamond robbery', where she used her femininity to get close to Sparky De Monte, the owner of DeCheers diamond mine. She and her team stole and exported over £2billion of what they thought were precious stones. They were apprehended by police whilst trying to dispose of £2billion pounds worth of carrots. The real diamonds are still missing, but believed to be in the hands of 'Slippery Rose'.
Also convicted for the Swiss Cheese Mine Incident (insurance fraud).

"Sentence: HMP Lowewood."

From that point on, all emails were titled 'FAO Crystal Rose', and I started to develop her character further. She allowed me to be arrogant and cocky, without ruining the play by being a brat. She allowed me to give in and accept her punishment. I had a reason for being punished. This pushed away the instinct that I have to blame myself and to subconsciously take 'play' punishments too literally. Most importantly, she gave me a way of experiencing some fantastic play without the danger of projecting the punishment onto my unrelated self confidence issues.

The play itself was truly amazing. Lord Fawcett seems to have worked out exactly how to humiliate me in the way that I like. At one point, he had me running around the garden as he whipped me. I had to wear an incredibly unflattering outfit, and underwent a strict corporal punishment routine. This was all enhanced by the small details - having my belongings placed into a cloth bag and confiscated upon my arrival, for example, or being left alone and chained into my 'cell' between punishments. I was left feeling floaty headed and fulfilled. I sense that there will be a lot more highly detail, pleasurably painful and perfectly humiliating in my future. In fact, I hope to be attending a group school roleplay event in a few weeks time. Maybe I will get around to writing that up in greater detail before it escapes my memory!

Thursday, 3 January 2013

A Small Hiatus

Although I am continuing to write, much of what I produce is being kept private for the moment for personal reasons. Please do keep popping back though, as I will still write the occasional piece. Hopefully I will be able to mass publish some posts in the near future. Many apologies.

Friday, 5 October 2012

The Change.

It has been almost six months exactly since my last blog post, in which I explained why I wanted to give myself a break from kink for a while. It has been a long six months during which I have examined my motivations inside and out, and I believe that I have come out  much healthier, happier, and, most importantly, more aware person. 

I have gained some valuable knowledge about myself, and the ways in which I used to use kink because I wanted boundaries. As my depression (linked to my upbringing) got worse, my cravings got more and more desperate and I wanted more and more extreme boundaries. Eventually, I managed to convince myself that the only way to express love was through extreme pain and hurt.

I now feel that I am in a much more stable place, and, being more aware of my motives - both positive and negative - I am ready to make a controlled return to my kinky life. I get things from kink that I cannot get from anywhere else. When done correctly, it makes me feel safe and secure. It relaxes me and allows me a place to escape from my everyday life. It makes me feel special. And I have made some very close friends through the kink scene, who I miss terribly.

So, here I am. Making my slow, controlled return. If you see me out, then please say hello/come to catch up. But no spontaneous play. I am going to be much more picky (and hopefully more safe) from now on. 

Saturday, 7 April 2012

Kink and Depression

Disclaimer: I do not wish to make a generalised link between BDSM and mental health in this post. Far from it. In my experience, those who engage in BDSM are far healthier than most. I am merely recounting my own experiences.

For the past five or so years (and arguably much longer) I have been suffering with chronic depression. My condition has deteriorated markedly over the past few months, and I have consequently spent four weeks in a psychiatric hospital going through some pretty intense therapy. This therapy has led me to put every aspect of my life story under scrutiny, and, from this, I have identified some major changes that I need to make if I wish to be happy. The first, and by far the easiest, is to withdraw totally from the fetish scene.

There are several reasons for this. Firstly, and most importantly, is that I need to learn to love myself. One of the damaging behavioral patterns that I have identified is that I define my identity by the success of my relationships with others. More specifically, I do not value myself as a person unless I am having a positive influence on another. I quite literally give up my sense of self for those I love. One of the many ways in which I validate this is through sexual submission. I need to recognise that it is not okay for me to put myself through what, in the past, has been significant emotional and physical hurt to make another person slightly happier with their lot. Until I have learnt this lesson, I think that it is wise for me to avoid situations that mimic this pattern.

In return for this giving of myself, I expect others to do similar for me. When I hear the words ‘I love you’, or even ‘I like you’, I hear ‘I will do anything within my power to protect you from the evils of the world.’ In truth, this is what I desperately want. For various reasons, my inner child has not been given the chance to develop and is essentially looking to be ‘re-parented’. However, as an adult, it is unrealistic to expect anyone to do this for me. Therein lies my second lesson: I need to stop putting my inner child into emotionally dangerous situations by allowing others too much access to her vulnerabilities and her desperate need for affection. I often struggle to see the difference between being dominated and being looked after, and I therefore need to unravel my adult’s feelings from my child’s feelings before I continue.

Finally, I have been forced to analyse which things in my life make me feel good and are therefore of high importance. Sexually, this means accepting that I am actually scared of sex. My inner child clings to the sense of being wanted that being fucked brings. However, I am usually left feeling empty and unloved – and I use the excuse of ‘subdrop’ to validate this feeling. I don’t want this any more.

I cannot make all of these changes overnight. It is going to take me a long time, and I have to be prepared to take baby steps. Re-reading this blogpost fills me with a horrible sense of dread. My need for sex as validation of my self worth, in particular, is something that I don’t fully understand and that is going to take a lot of re-wiring. But today, I am taking the first steps by a) writing this post and b) deleting my Twitter account.

Twitter is an engine for the social fetish scene. It is also a place on which a giant popularity contest is played out. It is where the ‘cool kids’ announce which party they are at and how outlandish it is. It is a place that people turn to for support when they are struggling and, for me, it is a place to which I turn for popular validation of my feelings and actions. I should not need this validation to quite the extent that I do. So it is time to kick the habit.

I have some plans for play in place in the coming months which I do not intend to change – baby steps, remember – and I expect that those involved with this will understand my desire to carry them through, but also that I need to put some emotional barriers in place before I do. I do not intend to stop playing with Lilith if I get the chance, since, in terms of both emotional connection and psychological awareness, she represents a very safe space. I may well reinstate my Twitter account and return to the scene within a few weeks. I may disappear for much longer. Those who are important will know where to find me, and will be there whether I am involved in the fetish scene or not.

Monday, 27 February 2012

D/S and Love: Why I No Longer Wear My Collar

I have recently returned from a magical week in Austria with Lilith. The holiday turned out to be a bit of a turning point in my kink journey (in more ways than one – see forthcoming post entitled ‘was I raped by a hot Austrian masseur’), and indeed in my relationship with Lilith. In short, I am no longer her submissive. I have removed my collar and am a free willed kinkster once again.

This does not mean that we no longer wish to be together – far from it. Rather, it means that we have come to a realisation that we should have come to a long time ago – that Lilith does not really want to be on top, and that I don’t really want her role in my life to be as the dominant. When we fell in love, it was not because of anything kinky (although, admittedly, it was kink that threw us together in the first place). She is, and always has been, my adventure buddy, life companion, security blanket and closest friend first and my dominant second. I want to take care of her as much as she does me, and we are truly both equals in the relationship. We both have our own lives, our own universes, and they have a symbiotic relationship. They are not in competition, and one does not need to dominate the other. Being in such a relationship is somewhat new to me, and anyone who knows Lilith will realise that it isn’t exactly familiar, comfortable territory for her either. But it is infinitely better than any other kink-based relationship that I’ve ever been in. It somehow feels more substantial, more homely, more real.

Of course, we are both still kinky people and our kinky desires have not disappeared. But by finally admitting to each other that we do not fulfill those roles in each others’ lives, we are now able to explore fully without feeling tied to the other by guilt. Through admitting the truth, I feel that a huge burden has been lifted. I had been struggling to force myself into a submissive role when I could see that she didn’t really want to give back as the dominant. Now, I don’t need to. We can go off and play as two submissive girls, both together and separately.

This does somewhat change my answer to the question ‘what are you looking for?’ I truly have come full circle, and am looking for something that I had when I first started exploring six years ago. I want someone/several people with whom I can have regular, no-strings-attached play. I do not want to be forced to submit through pain or force, but rather to choose to submit. I want someone who understands that my submission will always be separate to my loving relationship (although I do understand that, in order to get what I crave, the relationship cannot be completely emotionally detached). I want to be able to go somewhere for a couple of sessions a month where I can totally lose myself in that kind of submission without feeling the need to build the relationship any further than that of friends (or even, dare I say it, of dom/sub). A big ask, perhaps, but I don’t think it is impossible. I have come across several dominants that would like the same thing from a submissive. Sadly, with these people, the timing has never been right.  But there must be more out there. I just need to find them.

So what about my play with Lilith? She is still a sadist, and I still a masochist, and we fit well in that respect. I am hoping for many happy hours spent together in our dungeon in the future, and I have a big list of things that I would still like to do with her. But this will be as, when and if we both feel like it. And it will be nothing more than play that turns us both on. Neither of us will be forced into roles that do not fit. Sexually, I am more turned on by her now than ever before. Now that I know that I am not bound by my submissive role, I somehow feel that I am entitled to wish to ravish her sometimes. I am finding that I am getting the urge to play with her body - to lick, stroke, suck and fuck - more often than ever before. I want her to lay back and enjoy it, and, without the unwritten expectation of dominance from me, I hope that she will be able to. I wish to turn her on sexually in ways that neither of us are familiar with, and for her to enjoy the journey. I also feel more able to initiate, and less rejected when I get turned down due to work/fatigue/generally not being in the mood.

I will still refer to myself as ‘owned’ and as her ‘little girl’. I feel that I am. But I also think of myself as an owner, a mother, and, most importantly, a spouse. As a submissive – and by this I mean a person who wishes to give up control of their body and mind occasionally - I am now free to see what more the big bad world has to offer. So bring it ;)