Jilling Off

Much like Cake and Cunnilingus, there’s now an annual event dedicated to girl-friendly smut: “Lady Porn Day”. It was the day before yesterday. Yes, I’m a lazy blogger.

In the many debates surrounding pornography, few people ever mention that women often enjoy perusing it too. Sometimes the content is different to that spunked over by the chaps, but it is wrong to assume that erotica is always the harmful product of a misogynistic, exploitative industry geared towards men. I’m all for fairtrade porn made by, and for, consenting adults who enjoy sex, fetish or BDSM.

Jacqui Smith, the former Home Secretary, is presenting a documentary on 5 Live about porn. She is said to have been “shocked” at the ease of its availability online, and “felt completely innocent” on a visit to last year’s Erotica exhibition. Yet the Guardian’s Kristina Lloyd said in response that “a great deal of lazy thinking, myth making, poor research and anecdotal evidence surrounds debates on the sex industry.”

I’m inclined to agree with Kristina. The sweeping generalisations, misinterpretations and outright lies used by those who publicly condemn all pornography only stifle intelligent debate about creating a safer, fairer and healthier industry. There’s a danger that well-meaning feminist campaigns to eliminate anything perceived as sexual objectification will censor the female body, unwittingly presenting female sexuality itself as something obscene. There are many things I find offensive about The Sun’s Page 3, but bare norks are the least of them.

Still, here’s a marvellous list of links to ladies’ wank-fodder called the “Jilling Off Hall of Fame” at Rabbit Write, compiled in honour of Lady Porn Day. Happy fapping.

Chastity Diaries: The Daily Male

Last week, I put a gentleman in chastity. He was told that whenever he had the urge to fiddle with his sensitive bits, he should write to me instead. This one-way correspondence really focused his mind. It started as a series of updates and, after a couple of days without giving his own genitals a firm handshake, his emails descended into a wonderful, desperate stream of consciousness fantasy. Here are some highlights:

Thurs, 1:48pm “…The train journey was very frustrating. i really shouldn’t have sat next next to a Hotty in a pink mini skirt. That didn’t help. Had no problems at all so far. Thought i’d check my email, nothing. Have a quick look at your IC profile…. 2 mins later… oh… Now i really have the horn. It’s fine really, i can cope – today anyway. Tomorrow is another day. Obviously the frustration is gradually going to increase day by day. Perhaps i won’t look at Your sites for the next 9 days and keep my mind on mundane work instead. i’ll try to not think about being bound next to Your bed admiring Your legs as you elegantly stretch and move them, watching the light reflect off Your shiny stockings, smiling cruelly at me…”

Thurs, 3pm “…i’ve been looking at the train times. To avoid lots of time on trains, when there could be less time spent on trains, could we say 17.15?? If not, i’ll sit in the pub for 45 minutes and drink lots but that would make it harder to get hard if You catch my drift, but would make me tell You things i’d regret , ie being slightly tipsy and very horny means that i might tell You things such as: You should make me xxxx a blow up doll for 30 mins whilst filming the event (me masked of course) to humiliate me whilst a gang of Your Lady friends watch and laugh…”

Thurs, 8:14pm “…i’ve just been thinking about you Domming [link to profile of lovely lady] whilst i’m locked in the cage in a ‘frozen’ state. i think she’d like You and she’s quite local…”

Thurs, 8:29pm “…Well, since my last email, i can’t concentrate on anything. i’m quite hard and he’s twitching a lot, which really isn’t helping as each twitch rubs again the horse fabric of my underwear thus creating friction and sensation. i’ve tried to take my mind off it but there’s a strong nagging telling me to go do something about it with the method being half planned. Currently, i just feel very horny, no sadness or frustration. My body might be expecting what it’s used to, imminent relief. i yearn to kneel before You whilst You stand proud with my hands holding the top back of your bare thighs…”

Horse fabric? That’s dedication.

Fri, 1:53pm “…i’m thinking how it would feel to kneel next to Your bed and hold Your hand whilst Your slave(s) make(s) love to You. my balls currently seem to be suffering a mild internal burning sensation…”

Fri, 3:51pm “…You do know that if i keep emailing You too often, my messages could appear in Your spam folder. Might try chewing gum as a different hobby. i once fantasised about being made to write about humiliating fantasies and then having to stand nude in front of a Lady only audience and read them out. The lights would only be on the slave so he couldn’t see the Ladies or receive any feedback during the reading.

Oh the things i say when i’ve got the Horn. What’s it going to be like next week!?

Damn, now he’s throbbing…”

Fri, 5:31pm “…already i’m twitching and remembering Your sexy shiny stockinged legs just in front of me but out of arms reach as You teased me with them whilst maintaining Your just beautiful permanent smile and i’m wondering if thy tattoo above Your cleavage was temporary or permanent and whether You have any more anywhere as they’re rather sexy on a Lady moreso in fact than fuming which is very sexy but only lust … sorry just…”


Sun, 10:40am “…twitching rather a lot now and i feel warm and horny

the frustration is surprisingly low at the moment, despite remembering Your legs and constant visions of them. maybe it’s because i’m looking forward to seeing You next Tuesday which isn’t far off really…”

Mon, 10:12am “…your beauty compounded with this extended denial is affecting my concentration whilst causing bulging and friction during hardening and limping. i’d LOVE to rest my head on Your lap…”

Mon, 12:49 “…i’m thinking i’m running a nice hot bath for You with lots of bubbles and a couple of large flickering candles providing soft light. The room is warm and cosy. You blindfold me and test that i really can’t see anything. i take You to Your bath, whilst following Your guidance, holding Your hand and undress You before helping You into the bath. You relax and read for a while and i kneel next to the bath imagining Your feminine body under the suds with certain parts exposed through holes in the bubbles. A thigh coming out the water but the suds hiding the very top of it. The water sliding down Your leg. i’m burning with desire but Your hypnosis has programmed by penis to remain limp unless my nipples are held by a Lady. The CB therefore remains firmly in place. When You are ready You instruct me to dry You…”

Mon, 1:28pm “…i help fasten Your bra, corset in a state of excitement and frustration. Finally You sit on an antique wooden chair decorated with a splendid floral cushion. i roll stockings onto Your legs totally resisting any urges not to kiss them. i finishing unrolling the second stocking and move my lips lightly around the inside of Your left leg. As i do so, i feel You handcuff my hands behind my back. For the next 15 minutes, although it feels much short, i continue to gradually kissing my way up Your stockings attentively. Breathing fast with short breaths the excitement is intense. Dare i kiss past the top of the stockings? My top lip feels the warm skin and Your legs relax a little more…”

Mon, 1:30pm “…now i’m VERY horny and don’t know what to do. When is the 10th day?? HELP!”

Mon, 2:58pm “…The Daily Mail is a cure for the Horn…”

Mon, 3:04pm “I can’t wait for stinging nettle season. Do You like?? i think they’d work particularly with an ignored forced orgasm session, where the nettles are applied constantly for hours on end. The first moments are incredibly painful, but after 20 minutes the sensation is amazing, permanent vibration and excitement. Strong sensation lasts 20 minutes, where as mild lasts all day. Or ultra denial. i could almost climax from their application but care could be taken to avoid any release. Perhaps slave has to watch Lady longingly on slave girl action once the vibration has set in…”

The next email is something of an epic, so I’ll post that another time. I think it deserves a Daily Male blog entry of its very own.


Here’s an excerpt from a brilliant Salon.com article – Jed Lipinski’s amusing account of an awkward first date between two nervous ‘nillas at a bondage workshop:

…And so on a cold night in November, I pushed open the heavy glass doors of Toys in Babeland’s SoHo shop. Darla appeared soon after, zipped into a sleeping bag-length down jacket.

“Well, here we are!” she said brightly, kissing me on the cheek.

Two employees greeted us — an effete young man in tight pants and a Mohawk, and a voluptuous black-haired girl in a jungle-green velour jumpsuit. Their expressions were identical: endlessly sympathetic, wildly sexual. They handed us packets and pens, and we sat down in a row of folding chairs near the back.

Darla’s green eyes glittered with a kind of teenage mischievousness. But I noticed the packet — labelled “Bondage and Discipline” — was shaking slightly in her hand, as if she was about to give a speech. I instantly felt guilty for inviting her here. There was no alcohol to relax the mood, and the room was full of harsh fluorescence, throwing spotlights on products like the Ophoria Finger Vibe and Penetration Station. Our classmates, with whom I avoided making eye contact, were milling about the vibrator displays.

“That’s the one I have,” Darla said, gesturing at the display table. “The blue one.” The device was large and streamlined, with the kind of wrist cord attachment found on cameras and flashlights.

The girl in the green jumpsuit stepped to the front of the ad hoc classroom, and everyone sat down. She introduced herself as Rosalyn (her name, like the others in this essay, has been changed), and explained that everyone is capable of both domination and submission, that nobody is either/or. Her eyes were smoky and dark — bedroom eyes. When she asked what we wanted to learn, a heavy silence fell over the group.

“Knots!” a girl shouted at last, and the class laughed in relief. The girl was wearing cork-size plugs in her earlobes and holding her girlfriend’s hand. They smiled radiantly, completely at ease under the circumstances. I envied them.

“OK,” Rosalyn said. “Knots. Check! Anything else?”


“All right, well. I hope you guys are ready, because this class is gonna be really fun!”

Darla pounced on the opportunity for irony. “Yes!” she whispered, squeezing my knee. I was uncomfortable being here — far more uncomfortable than I’d predicted — and the benign comment loosened me up to an almost psychotic degree. I laughed into my hand, worried I might giggle uncontrollably for the rest of the class, but the fit soon passed.

Rosalyn stepped back and Daniel, a shifty fellow in a baggy sheep’s wool sweater and wingtips, took her place. “Hey, you guys! Welcome to Erotic Bondage and Dirty Domination!” he said, with considerable sass. Rosalyn had seemed a sensitive and reliable guide, but Daniel looked unsteady; he seemed to be in training for the job. Rather abruptly, he began reading from the packet we’d been given, looking up now and then to establish a rapport with the audience. “The masochist is someone who enjoys inflicting pain on others,” he said, “whereas a sadist … a sadist enjoys being the recipient of pain.”

“I think you got that backwards there,” said a black man in sunglasses and a white Kangol hat near the front.

Daniel blushed and flipped the pages back and forth. He gave an exasperated “Ah!” before redefining the words correctly.

Just then, Rosalyn said, “I smell smoke. Is something burning?” As Daniel turned around, Rosalyn leapt at the table behind them, where a scented massage candle had lit one of the fanned sex-pamphlet displays. “Oh my God!” she shouted, laughing as she brought a hardback erotica book down on the table, smothering the flames…

Read the full article here.