RSS

Monthly Archives: May 2012

Purity and Vagina Dententa

So…how did I get into abstinence?  I was 18 in my first year of uni and I bought a DVD from HMV called “Teeth”, a horror movie about a girl who has a vagina with teeth that only bite when she is angry (like when she is raped). I was disappointed at the complete lack of horror in this film, but something else blew my mind: the idea of abstinence and the scene where she gives out abstinence rings and attempts to brainwash children into copying her lifestyle without offering reasons why they should. The idea seemed too kinky and demented even for a horror movie, but I was hooked! I was awed at the scriptwriters’ creativity. The second time I watched the film, I wanked to the scene where she spreads Abstinence, and every time since. A few weeks or months later, I discovered that everything in the film was true (abstinence, not vagina dententa) and not in the Middle East as you would think, but in America! (Where the movie was made and takes place). After that I felt guilty about getting pleasure from a real problem and promised to myself that if such a thing should ever threaten Britain, I would do something against it. I’ve never been able to watch Teeth again, but I am grateful for the love of abstinence it has given me. (This was not the last time that something I wanked to turned out to be true, but I’ll get on to that in another post.)

Some lovely quotes from Teeth:

“If you use your hand on yourself, is that pure?”

“Save it for the mother of your children”

“Last week I was pure”

[12 year old kids chanting at the protagonist for losing virginity and thus “purity”] “The serpent in the Garden of Eden”

“[the diagrams of the uterus in a biology textbook are covered because] women have a natural modesty”

“you know the damage [sex] can do”

and my favourite “gift of virginity” “we all have a precious gift to give”

What is the message of the movie anyway – that abstinent girls are dangerous to men? That rape destroys abstinence? That Christians see rape as being the victim’s fault? That abstinence is self-defeating, impossible, perverted, or a form of self-harm? Maybe there’s no message…Hollywood garbage…or maybe there is…I dunno.

The whole concept of wearing an abstinence ring on your ring finger until the day you exchange it for a wedding ring is divine…the thought of this alone is enough to make me hyperventilate…oh great God in Heaven let me seduce an abstinent boy! Let me tie him up and sit on his cock and ravage him over and over until he faints. I want to rape that beautiful innocent virgin and take away his precious gift of virginity.

Virginity: Gift, to be given only on a wedding night and not even one night before, to your true love, as the writers of Teeth would have it? Or non-existent entity, a social construction made by our culture? Or commodity, to be traded? Or a different thing to everyone? I tend to see guys’ virginities as something valuable to be taken, and girls’ virginities as worthless/non-existent, and my own as valuable in material terms, as non-existent, as erotic, as something to be discarded or thrown away as quickly as possible, as a stigma/brand of shame, as a defining characteristic, as rare, as a tool.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Why abstinence is sexy

I am a virgin.

To me, what I just typed was erotic. Now, imagine abstinence – well, first it might help to explain the type of abstinence I’m talking about. I’m not talking about freely chosen abstinence, as is possible for those who were not brought up by religious households or have a religion, nor the kind of religious abstinence that allows exploration of non-penetrative pleasure, as is quite beautifully and humourously told in Ella’s post here http://ellayourbella.wordpress.com/2012/02/14/resisting-temptation/ .

 

Nope, the kind of abstinence I’m talking about is the kind that doesn’t allow anything beyond kissing, equates casual sex with premarital sex, perpetuates the double standard and the virgin-whore dichotomy. The kind I’ve been reasearching -daddy-daughter purity balls where the daughter vows to stay a virgin until her wedding night and her father vows to protect his daughter’s virginity, virginity pledges at school, and state-funded abstinence “education”/indoctrination for innocent teens (and adults, under Bush).

An offensive pro-abstinence image.

 

Of course you’re all (except for you Americans) probably thinking what on earth I’m talking about and that I’m crazy; well, just ask your American friends! And remember MP Nadine Dorries’ Abstinence education for girls Bill in January that was aimed at stopping child abuse and rape by teaching girls (not boys) to ‘just say no’. I swear, we get more and more like the American South every day. (Though abstinence-only “education” is actually slowly disappearing from America because it leads to STDs and unplanned pregnancy. The programs are being replaced with comprehensive sex ed, which is normal sex ed but still includes abstinence “education” and disurbingly it is sometimes openly admitted that they are trying to stop teens having sex. (Yes, you did read that right. To stop them having sex. As if their bodies aren’t their own.And this is the federal or State government, and government-funded programs we’re talking about. In Georgia, the State government asked a pastor to create a comprehensive program, which promotes abstinence until marriage.) This isn’t a conspiracy theory – they admit it, and even dare to evaluate success based on whether teens were repressed enough to not explore their sexuality!! All of this is very similar to Dorries’ Bill. Except Dorries’ Bill was a thousand times worse than anything the right-wing freedom-haters in the U.S. have spawned, because Dorries was blaming rape/abuse victims for being raped – even child victims. She also failed to acknowledge the existence of male rape/abuse victims and the fact that rape crisis centres and helplines are usually not directed at teenage or adult male victims so the consequences for males may be even worse. And society’s concept of masculinity as being invulnerable or the sexual iniator may further stigmatise male victims or make their trauma worse than that of female victims).

 

Well, rant over for today, but as Schwarzenegger said, I will be back! With more Tales of Terror from the freedom-hating nutjobs of Britain (and possibly America, because whatever happens there is a portent for what could happen here, such as the 90’s stigma against lone mothers, abstinence education, the Silver Ring Thing, etc., all of which were ‘exported’ here.)

 

 

 

So, why is abstinence sexy?

The forbidden fruit angle – it’s baaaaad, and that’s why it’s delicious

The pure abstinent virgin becoming a rabid whore on her wedding night as she finally releases the desires, kinks and urges that the years of repression and waiting have created

The beautiful language of abstinence: sin, fornication, purity, chastity, immorality, morals, devil, etc

The concept that sex angers God – it’s wonderfully archaic and superstitious. Our far ancestors must have feared the Sun as it flamed above the African savannah and known it could see them, even when they mated. These thoughts survive today, especially in Islam, Catholicism and Evangelical Christianity.

Purity rings – the symbol of abstinence, proudly worn to declare one’s sexual state

The emphasis placed on female virginity but not male virginity (e.g. purity balls are only for females, and it is the male parent who guards her virginity and guides her, not the female parent)

Abstinence is the greatest perversion

Yes, I am abstinent; though not until marriage. I am abstinent until either a man will give me the deflowering I want (I’ll post on this later) or until a man buys my virginity. Obv, because Roland has bought me, it will be the latter.

For both men and women:

ABSTINENCE IS SEXY! VIRGINITY IS SEXY!

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

The flogger

So there I was, tied over the bench. As he listed out my naughty deeds, he smacked me with the flogger-it stung and the sting radiated out all over my bum. After two whacks, he swung harder , pausing after each stroke to take in the effect it had on my bottom. I tried not to make a sound but I squealed almost every time I felt the hot sting, and it felt almost solid not like felt strips cascading onto my skin. Sometimes the bench rocked a little. His eyes were shining with that purest delight, the joy that is only found in the flesh of others. I knew what he felt because I felt it too; I couldn’t stop staring at him (in between each stroke) and I wished he would take his clothes off and be naked so I could see him..I was watching all the time so see if he was getting hard from spanking me, but I couldn’t tell. There should be a law that all men must wear tiny little shorts that are nice and tight. Except the fat or ugly ones. I just remembered that when I was 13 and started a petition not to have to wear school uniform, my friend who was in my class said that I should make the petition say that all boys should wear a thong, except the ugly ones. As it happened, I stuck with the idea of just petitioning against school uniforms. (I gave it to the headteacher, because it was the headteacher who convened and chaired the Pupil Council. Everyone whose name was on it got called to her office the next day and asked why they had signed it and who had asked them to sign – despite the fact I already told her it was my idea and had started with my friends, which was why I was the one who was handing it in to her. Some signatories’ parents were called and told thert kids had signed a petition.That was the last we heard of it. I think the questioning/calling parents of signatories is discouraging free speech.And petitioning the pupil council or school was not against the school rules; it was done in a non-disruptive, nonviolent way at break time and lunchtime and not in class time.)

Anyway, that was one massive digression, but lying over that bench I wanted to see if he was hard or not. It was amusing seeing how a professional businessman could become controlled by physical drives, with only one goal in mind and a lust that must be satisfied. Are we all instinctual, animals, at heart? I know that, when I spank him, it will feel even better than being spanked.

Roland flogged hard, questioning me about lying that I was about to commit suicide. (I did it because the guy I lied to (who lives in America) has a habit of telling me the most ridiculous lies, which he gets me to believe, then mocks me for being gullible. I’ve tried to get him to believe lies back, but  never been able to get him back for it until I told him I was going to kill myself, which he believed and called the Dept. of Health, Scottish Government and finally the Lothian and Borders police, who, with the help of a lecturer I knew who lured me to where they were waiting under the pretext of a conversation, ambushed me in a University building just after my last exam. I told them it was a joke and apologised for wasting police time. Luckily, they believed me.Five minutes later I met Roland at the restaurant.)

Roland, after briefly flogging me for offering pornography for sale, now brought up the subject of my fake suicide.

“You caused him to worry,” he stated, scraping the flogger’s warm tails over my bum. He whacked me and I jumpd slightly, yelping.

“And he worried so much, he called the police,” Roland continued, rubbing the flogger over my skin, then swatting me hard. I burst out laughing at how funny it was that the guy who had laughed time and time again at my gullibility had finally believed my lie. And called the police, creating a huge drama! How funny and interesting my life was! Roland stood there for a while, totally nonplussed and watching me carefully. (He told me later that at first, he didn’t know whether it was laughing or crying. Then he thought ‘I’ve got to stop her laughing’.) And he did. He slapped the flogger into my bottom hard and I squealed in pain as stinging fire raged across my cheeks; then he did it again, and again until I was screaming.

Then the blows fell lighter, and he stopped and said, “Where did you go for lunch today?”

“The Tower,” I murmured.

“And what did you discuss?” he pressed, looking towards the camera.

“…Stuff.”

He bent closer to me. “What kind of stuff?”

“Selling stuff.”

“And what was it you agreed to sell? Was it…yourself?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Some musings

Okay, I know I’m supposed to be posting a coherent account of this event, but I can’t. (Well, not right now, but I will try.) There was a rush of conflicting feelings in me, and also some of it was blurry…I was so thrilled, excited, delighted, yet wonderfully fearful also. And Roland is the first guy to see me naked, so it was so much fun parading in front of him and showing off my body to him, just happy being myself. And nlot worrying about blemishes or hyperpigmentation because I mentioned this to him, and he doesn’t even notice. Men! I guess some of the gender myths are true. Usually I have what has been described as a “photographic” memory (although of course this is a huge exaggeration, and I actually have less memory for details; what I’m best at remembering is poems or paragraphs which I sometimes remember by heart accidentally and can therefore recite at any time, which prompts people to get all excited. But if my memory were truly “photographic” I would not be able to recite what I read, but only able to write/copy what I read.So obviously it’s not.) Where was I? Oh, that in this instance, my memory isn’t that good and I can’t call up the little deatils or even the correct sequence of events that easily. I think that when he caned me, as Queen Tut, it was too pleasurable for my brain to cope with, and ultimately too painful. I refused to say the safeword but when he asked if I wanted to stop, there was an inner battle before I finally admitted that I did. Interestingly, I was crying from pain and this is the first time I cried so hard as an adult, and also the first time in my life that I cried without feeling shame about crying. Absolutely liberating. Also, I knew for the first time what it’s like to fear physical pain/punishment (apart from ordinary pain such as falling, bullies, fights, etc that most people experience at least falling at some point.)

It’s kinda weirdhow I go from being scared before the spanking to immediately enjoying it as soon as it begins. I like it when Roland uses his hand the best – the feel of his skin on mine. And he seems able to vary the force he uses better when using his hand. And he can look so cruel and happy, grinning like a hungry, salivating shark as he gazes down at me strapped helplessly over the bench. I remember his voice when I sobbed, pleading “No don’t! Don’t do it-stop!” and he regarded me coolly, saying “Do I hear ‘lemon sherbet’ [the safeword]?” and when I said no, he proclaimed, in the lordly tone of my ‘Roland’ figure, “Well then I shall take no notice then,” smiling like a cruel prince, and continued.

 

Tied over a carpentry bench

I rubbed my bum for a while and then Roland dressed me in a black and gold corset, sliding sheer black over-the-knee tights up my legs. My toenails were bright red like my fingernails and underwear so it looked pretty good. Roland tied a pink strap around my wrists so my hands were tied behind my back. I felt completely restrained and helpless, and even a little panicky because I thought that if I had to run (e.g. if there was a fire, or someone was in the building) then I wouldn’t be able to move.

“If you really want to, you can get out of that,” he told me, and I felt calmer as I surreptitiously tried my bonds and realised this was true and my hands were much freer than it appeared. Roland had me kneel on the sofa, my hands bound and knickers pulled down so that my freshly spanked behind was displayed. He took lots of photographs of me bound and bent over. He tried to put bunny ears on me but they kept falling off; I was able to readjust them sometimes, though with difficulty, even with my hands bound (if I contorted myself). He took photos of me kneeling over the arm of the sofa and kneeling on the carpet with my front on the sofa. I think he took around 200 photos.

Then he removed the door handle and said “You can get out but nobody can get inside, because the only way in is with this.” He put it on the windowsill. Roland went out into the large space outside the door which was empty apart from debris and stuff from the renovation. He came back, knocked and I opened the door; he was dragging what he called a “carpentry bench” that the workmen had left behind. It was about 60cm long and 50cm wide, with four sturdy black metal legs.

I felt intriuged as I looked at it, and a tad apprehensive, but mostly just impatient to be tied over it. Roland configured his video camera.

I walked over to the carpentry bench and he bent me over it; “All the way over,” he said, and my hands were nearly touching the ground. He started pulling out snaking lentghs and loops of bright pink and purple rope from his bag of goodies. “It’s bondage rope,” he said. “I got it in a shop in Soho.” He tied my legs, and I eased my arms into a position so they wereroughly symmetrically positioned and easier to be restrained. I was a little nervous because I’d never been tied up or even handcuffed before. Although I wasn’t deliberately paying attention, it was obvious to me that Roland was tying very loose, easily untied knots, using big loops instead of single strands. (I know nothing of knot-tying, but I rather suspect that my instincts lead me to observe details when they percieve a potentially threatening situation, especially as regards freedom of movement.)

Roland pulled something else out of his goodie-bag and it was a flogger/cat o’ nine-tails. Its pink and blue stripey design, and its tails, reminded me of the flail in my story (“Kemet”). I said so.

Roland moved behind me.

“Why am I being spanked?” I asked, grinning.

“Do you want a list?” he said, savouring the words.

“Yes. List it to the camera.”

“You are being spanked,” he declared, “For offering to post pornographic drawings, for lying to that guy through emails that you were going to commit suicide, and he was worried and called the police, and for agreeing to sell me your virginity. Your first time.”

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The spanking begins

I knelt there, my bum sticking up and bare, and felt kind of vulnerable. He smacked it a few times, then showed me his black flexible paddle, which marks the word ‘slut’ on your skin. He thwacked the middle of my butt with it.

“Is that sore?” he asked.

“Not really,” I said truthfully. I was pretty nervous about what was to come, though. He’d bought me and now I was his commodity, he could do anything.In my pseudo-reality he was the cruel sadist, the despotic lord or oportunistic bachelor, my Roland, who appears in different incarnations. I found him once in Sade’s Justine, by this name, which was a wild coincidence. (I suppose that’s why I chose the pseudonym ‘Roland’ for this guy).

He paddled me with it, the sound of the slaps ringing out loudly as each one left a stinging imprint on my bum. It hurt a lot, especially when he repeatedly struck the same spot near the centre of my butt. I felt tears in my eyes which shocked me as I so rarely cry. I was yelping or squealing each time he hit me, though occassionally I managed not to cry out or move at all. He askedif I wanted a break and I said no, and he continued paddling me. After a bit, he went to fiddle with his camera and so I did get a short break. He wandered bak over and smacked my rear again. I said, “You should draw a target.”

He drew a circle in with a red office board marker, then 3 more circles. “And then the bullseye,” he said, pulling my cheeks apart, and I yelped when he did that because it hurt a bit. He thought it was funny. “And the numbers,” I reminded him. Roland marked in the numbers – 10 to 50 points, and said “fifty is the bullseye,” and I wondered if he was going to stick the pen inside me again but he laughed and said “but it’s too small, isn’t it? I can’t – The bulleye is too small.” Which was really funny.

Roland hefted his ‘slut’ paddle and said, “okay, we’ll aim for some 10 points, shall we.” He cracked me two near my sit spot. “Shall we say, five ten points?” He continued in this way until he’d got ten that were worth 25 points and had gotten every score except 50.

He picked up the wooden dog brush and rolled it around in his fingers. He set it down on the sofa next to me.

“This is a brush, isn’t it?” he said, “A dog brush. Turn to the camera, and tell the camera what this dog brush is for.”

“For…brushing dogs?” I whimpered, with tears in my eyes. My bottom hurt quite a bit.

“No. Why is it here, today?”

This was very humiliating for me. “…To…spank me.” I whispered.

“Say it louder. Say it to the camera,” Roland ordered.

“To spank me,” I said slowly.

“Yes,” said Roland, and he moved behind me and smacked me over and over with it. I wriggled and yelped the whole time. Then he let me rest. I knew the flogger and cane were still to come, though.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Aside

Before I go on to describe what happened in Roland’s office, I thought it might be good to share this story I wrote in late April 2012, which he has read, and which we talked about briefly in the Tower restaurant and also at the photoshoot. (Because I intend to show the societal and personal backdrop to this deal, -rather than simply boast about my sexual adventures – I will not only post about the sex work itself on this blog. If I’m not lazy I’m going to post stuff about feminism, stigmatisation of lone mothers, lies told by the media and politicians about increasing rates of, and negative consequences of teenage pregnancy – it’s been steadily declining since the late 70’s – representations in psychology, literature, film etc. And probably more stuff about me as well which is unrelated to prostitution.)This story has content of an adult nature, more so than the rest of this blog and **contains humour and/or glorification of police brutality/state violence** It may also be offensive to fans of Ann Widdecombe and /or Rick Santorum. All characters are mine except the obvious real-life people.

The story is here on my other page: https://diaryofavirginwhore.wordpress.com/the-uk-government-torture-act-a-sociopolitical-bdsm-satire-mm-mf-mm-xmm-xff/

or you can just click on the title at the top of this page, if you haven’t alreadydone so and read the story. It’s 16 pages long, so you might want to grab a coffee or something whilst you read it. (I never got the hang of making short stories short.)

“The UK Government Torture Act” A sociopolitical BDSM story

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,