BDSM

My Normal

priyanka — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

When artists use the word 'normal' to title their work, they usually mean to imply that they’re going to show us something arguably abnormal. In the case of My Normal, the fringe behavior in question is BDSM: bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. This kind of sexuality involves one or more people in positions of power, who inflict pain or humiliation on a subordinate or subordinates.

But really, how does that differ from most marriages these days? (Just kidding.)

Writers Renee Garzon and Adam Sales believe they’re doing something revelatory with this story about a lesbian dominatrix who dreams of simultaneously enjoying a monogamous relationship, a lucrative career in BDSM and artistic freedom as a filmmaker; but who can’t seem to juggle all her balls at once. “The various controversial scenes and subjects touched upon in this film were ones Renee and Adam knew well from (firsthand) experience,” the film’s Web site explains. “They were greatly inspired by the underground NYC (New York City) scenes that are often spoken about but rarely seen.”

Unfortunately for them, we have seen these things before in movies and television. Other than a rather shocking description of a client getting a dildo lodged in his anus and subsequently requiring hospitalization, which is spoken of but not seen, there’s very little 'controversial' or 'underground' material exposed. Movies like Looking for Mr. Goodbar and Secretary, as well as television shows like Sex and the City and The L Word have taken us here before.

And it is highly problematic for a movie, which by its very nature occupies a visual medium, to spend more time talking about allegedly abnormal behavior instead of showing it. (Not that I’m clamoring for a glimpse at a dildo-obstructed anus…) The film is dialogue-driven and uses very little cinematic language to tell its story, which is at best contrived and at worst insincere. Actor interactions begin with lines about back story rather than words of familiarity, the kinds of things people who see each other every day say to one another naturally. Amateurish direction and editing employ clumsy establishing shots and empty transitions. The actors look great—too glossy to be representing the vulgar side of NYC as chronic recreational drug-users—but are generally stiff and awkward in their delivery. Ty Jones, who plays a drug dealer/would-be screenwriter, gives the most natural performance of the film (he’s definitely one to watch out for in more mainstream—and by that I mean expensive—cinema).

Perhaps this subject matter is better served by pornography or documentary, each of which would be a little of both. My Normal feels a little too… well, normal. Check out this film if you’re looking for a gentle introduction to BDSM. If you’re in the know, skip it.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, January 28th 2011

Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch/Femme Erotica

admin — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by Tristan Taormino

Cleis Press

So, I sometimes forget that reading erotica and looking at BDSM queer porn in the library of an Ivy League university is not necessarily standard practice. Lucky for me, I go to Brown, where I’m concentrating in Gender and Sexuality studies, and have somehow managed to legitimize studying sex manuals with postmodern theory in order to (supposedly, so they say) get a degree next year. Along with my academic studies and personal intrigues, I am also active with various events and groups on campus explicitly related to sexuality, so am known on campus for… well, let’s just say, when I pulled out Tristan Taormino’s Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch/Femme Erotica in the middle of the bustling Science Library lobby during the mad rush of studying for midterms, I got simply passing (mostly jealous) chuckles from friends venturing down into the depths of the stacks with unread textbooks in their arms.

This exciting collection of twenty-three stories is edited by author, director, and educator Tristan Taormino, and is a part of the Best Lesbian Erotica series, which has won three Lambda Awards. Cleis Press, who published the book, focuses on queer sexualities, putting out various sex guides, gender/queer theory texts, and works of fiction.

As the publisher notes, Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch/Femme Erotica is about “dispelling myths, realizing fantasies, and delivering outstanding writing with distinct contributor voices.” In the introduction, Taormino expresses the desire to “queer gender throughout the spectrum,” viewing gender as multilayered, constantly changing, and problematizing the reductionist and prescriptive discourses around butch/femme identities:

Butch/femme is bulging jeans, smeared lipstick, stiletto heels, and sharp haircuts. It’s about being read and being seen. Sometimes it’s about passing or not passing. It’s about individual identity and a collective sense of community. It’s personal, political. It’s performance and it’s not. It’s the visceral space between the flesh and the imagination.

The stories focus on the separation and convergence of the personal and the political, the body and fantasy, and address some examples of what really goes on in bed between self-identified butches and femmes. As a new reader of butch/femme lesbian erotica, I was surprised about the diversity of relationships, identities and desires, and found that while some of it was a real turn-on for me, others not so much. But that is okay. In the end, the appeal of the collection is about the confidence and attitude that exudes from the authors as they own their own identity expressions, desires, and pursuits of pleasure.

Written by: Abigail Chance, April 26th 2010

Whip Smart: A Memoir

admin — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Melissa Febos

St. Martin's Press

Here's a confession: I've never actually read a memoir before, so I went into Melissa Febos' cleverly titled Whip Smart with complete ignorance. As a result, I'm not sure if the book's half-plot, half-retroactive dime-store psychological self-exploration formula is typical of the genre or not. Either way, I found the real-life narrative of a twenty-year-old college student turned self-destructive sex worker simultaneously engaging, sickening, unflinchingly honest, and enormously annoying.

Febos' story is certainly uncommon. As a straight-A student at New York City's The New School in the early 2000s, she decided to become a dominatrix, not because she was particularly strapped for cash or because she became seduced by the BDSM scene or even because she was bored. She makes the case at the beginning of the memoir that it was either that or stripping. "The vulnerability of stripping had always disturbed me; it seemed too easy to be condescended to, to be humiliated," Febos writes. "My need to be in control had always trumped the allure of being so desired." A couple of calls, a short interview, and a few training sessions later, the author is plunging headfirst into the world of dominant-on-demand women and the wealthy men they serve.

As the story advances, it's hard to believe that anyone performing the kinds of acts she did (for the small salary of seventy-five dollars an hour, given the extreme things she was asked to do) would exalt themselves above a stripper, who is never required to urinate, defecate, or spit on their clients, as Febos frequently did. She manages to do it, repeatedly, while separating her dominatrix sessions from other types of sex work because she didn't get nude or allow her clients to have sex with her (although she did frequently have sex with the men, with the help of a strap-on). It's this frequent, repetitive holier-than-thou diatribe about her position within the sex trade that makes the book annoying.

Hand in hand with her top-of-the-sex-industry lines were hollow words about female empowerment and her mother's feminism, which apparently was seriously misconstrued in it's transference to the next generation. Take this scene where she decides to fess up about the new job: _Instinctively, I tried to appeal to my mother's feminist, therapist values...The women I work with, they're amazing, strong, educated, creative women. It's not like I'm a prostitute or something. I'm in control of everything that happens. It's empowering._Empowerment and feminism are obviously not the same thing, while being paid to serve as a sex object (nude or not) is a form of prostitution. Febos' lines aren't from any feminist playbook; they're just ways the author—always used to feeling like the smartest person in the room—justifies her profession, which she admits was, at times, demoralizing and plain disgusting. Because of the exchange of currency that occurred in "the dungeon," she and her co-workers were objects fulfilling a dominant sexual fantasy for the men without actually being dominant. Dominance, also, isn't synonymous with feminism or empowerment, as is often insinuated in this memoir.

While the story revolves around life in the dungeon and it's crazy cast of characters, Febos also weaves a parallel story of her heavy drug use, which occurred concurrently with her dungeon ascent and descent. There are also the other bad habits that she reveals—like randomly stealing books from Barnes & Noble and lying at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings—all of which are eventually resolved as Febos becomes stronger in her power over her addictions.

Despite our differing opinions on women, society, and sex work, I admired Febos' willingness to tell the whole truth in the least preachy way possible. Although it was evident that she thought (and maybe still thinks) many of her actions were commendable because of their shock value and adversarial relationship to social and sexual norms, it takes some serious guts and huge (ahem) balls to pull off publishing this type of story. For that reason alone, Whip Smart is an absolute must-read.

Cross-posted from Uptown Literati

Written by: Whitney Teal, April 25th 2010

Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica

admin — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 17:05:00 +0000

Edited by D.L. King

cleis

When I first began reading Where the Girls Are, I thought I had made a mistake. As I turned the pages of the first short story, Charlotte Dare’s “The Critic,” I thought, “This must be doing nothing for me because I’m not a lesbian.” Oh-oh. Fortunately, things changed as I moved on to the following stories. It turns out “The Critic” just wasn’t very good.

This compilation of short stories is satisfying on numerous levels—there is variety of length, fetish, pace, style, and even talent. We cruise through night clubs, BDSM initiations, taxis, butt plugs, whips, cityscapes, cocktails, and a rushed stint through the backstage of a fashion show. We’re even introduced to a ‘50s pinup lookalike in these pieces of “true tales and explicit fiction.”

Lisabet Sarai’s “Rush Hour” is my favorite. Unpredictable from start to finish, riveting and fun, it’s a non-cheesy tale of opposites attracting that puts you right in the cab with Ruth and Mina. Both characters are bold, independent, and snarky—just the way I like them.

Kathleen Bradean’s “Don’t Fuck with Country Girls” also positively stands out. From the very first sentence, I was drawn in with a smile on my face. I mean, how could you not love a story that begins, “My clit is fat and sassy.”—impossible. Plus, it’s (sort of) a story about two people who meet on the internet. Story of my life.

Of course, I also have complaints. I was positively appalled as I sat on the toilet reading “The City Pony” by Roxy Katt. Granted, there are no actual ponies in the story, but this is the closest thing to zoophilia I have ever read (not that I have searched). Apart from that, it is a long, dull story filled with dialogue both corny and forced, and it ends exactly how you think it will. Feel free to skip it, if only because it just can’t be healthy to roll your eyes for seventeen straight pages.

Other than that, Where the Girls Are overflows with tantalizing tales of both rural and urban girls gone wild in the city—but not in the raunchy sense. Okay, yes, in the raunchy sense. But I don’t think I read anything about cameras.

Written by: Natalia Real, September 5th 2009

Bound to Please

admin — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 04:53:00 +0000

By Lilli Feisty

Forever

I haven't read a romance novel in years, and the only BDSM material I've ever read was Anne Rice's Beauty trilogy (which she wrote under the name A. N. Roquelaure)—and even then, I only browsed through the first book. One would think that from the title of Lilli Feisty's first novel—Bound to Please—the reader would know what to expect. This reader, however, did not.

Bound to Please is a supercharged, erotic, (mild) BDSM book. The back cover even warns, "Read it only if you can handle the heat." Think you can?

The book centers on Ruby Scott, an event planner in San Francisco who is so tightly wound that someone, preferably a man in her perspective, needs to seriously loosen her strings! Ruby is a raven-haired beauty whose retro style and self-limitations are more reminiscent of June Cleaver than Morticia Adams, while Meg, her sidekick and business partner, is a sassy punk with a passion for vintage clothing. Both women end up delving into a world of bondage, domination, and submission.

Ruby has dabbled with some kinky sex with an ex-boyfriend but has never been able to fully give herself or submit, until she meets "almost famous" rock musician Mark St. Crow. He's young, gorgeous, and has an urgent need to dominate—and Ruby is just the woman to satisfy his desire.

Reading through the first twenty pages or so, I had to stifle back giggles at some of the writing and the actions of the characters. Shudder, quiver, and tremble are some of the words used to describe Ruby's reactions to Mark's touches, and the reader knows immediately that he's made a deep connection with her when Ruby starts eating ice cream straight from the carton—something she's never done before! This girl is hooked!

The writing isn't Tolstoy or Austen, but it's not supposed to be, and, I admit, the story took me away. I found myself wondering: How far will Ruby go to please Mark? Will she allow herself to be dominated? Will Meg use sex to solve her marriage woes? Will Mark stay in San Francisco? And will Ruby eventually lose her June Cleaver attitudes toward relationships and her own sexuality?

Bound to Please is not a BDSM 101 book, but I did find out what a top, bottom and switch are and where to shop if I'm ever in need of a, um, paddle or whip. I guess it's true that you learn something new every day!

Written by: Su Lin Mangan, August 23rd 2009

The Other Side of Desire: Four Journeys Into The Far Realms Of Lust And Longing

admin — Mon, 04 May 2009 23:43:00 +0000

By Daniel Bergner

ECCO Books

Daniel Bergner’s new work on sexuality, The Other Side of Desire, garnered a considerable amount of press before it was released thanks to an adapted excerpt from the book published in the New York Times under the title, “What Do Women Want?” Many feminists were disgruntled by the piece, which included University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV) professor Marta Meana’s insistence of narcissism in the role of female arousal. (“Being desired is the orgasm.”) As one NYT letter writer pointed out, “For many women, it’s occasionally hard to know the difference between sexual agency and male-driven definitions of sexiness[...] we are not ‘post feminist’ yet.”

In the book itself, Bergner examines four distinct case studies of individuals with non-normative sexual proclivities, including a foot fetishist struggling with debilitating shame, a man who propositioned his adolescent stepdaughter, and an unrepentant female sadist who openly rejects the “safe, sane, consensual” mantra of the Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, Masochism (BDSM) community. Bergner alternates within each section between intimate portraits of his subjects’ lives and feedback from psychologists and psychiatrists who provide their professional take on the situation.

The female sadist is by far the most articulate subject and her chapter is subsequently the most memorable. Her practices are intense, and, to his credit, Bergner presents her actions to us without apparent judgment. The book’s greatest strength is the author’s willingness to admit moments when his own sensibilities are challenged and then do his best to set those reactions aside and continue reporting. What his interviewees confess is often stunningly honest, and the best way to respect their candidness is to simply share it.

The book ends on a weak note with “The Devotee,” a section focused on an amputee fetishist, Ron, and his amputee wife Laura. While Bergner touches on the ways disabled individuals’ sexuality is neglected (the doctors never address what sex might be like after Laura’s accident nor do they inform of the existence of a devotee community), he doesn’t linger on the subject for long. He also abandons his strategy of providing medical insight as a counterpoint to the personal experience and instead becomes strangely caught up in describing the artwork of Hans Bellmer, a man who photographed damaged-looking dolls, and Ron’s own photographs of amputees.

While Bergner does an admirable job of conveying the eroticism some men experience in sex with a disabled woman, his writing at this stage is often overly dramatic: “The body parts were letters, and their violent reordering would reinvent the body’s language and unmask its messages and lead to shaman’s wisdom.” Furthermore, there seems to be little room for Laura’s sexual needs in the relationship. She wonders what she can offer a man now after losing her conventional beauty in an accident. Once she begins modeling as an amputee her confidence is somewhat restored, yet she still doubts she could ever attract a “normal” man. It seems that Laura, like many women, grew up substituting being desired by a man in place of any desires of her own. Ron’s tastes are catered to, but Laura’s? As readers, we’re never entirely sure what she wants. Perhaps that New York Times letter writer was on to something.

Written by: Monica Shores, May 4th 2009