I feel very honoured to have been asked to read, and I’m proud to say that I think Raziel and I did a good job bringing Remittance Girl’s words to life.

You can listen to this episode alone, or you can subscribe to the podcast on iTunes.

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Ether Books describe themselves as ‘a new mobile social reading platform, connecting Writers and Readers around the world. Ether publishes “made for mobile” Quick Reads straight to Smart Phones, the fastest growing digital reading device on the planet. Discover talented new and bestselling writers right from your pocket.’

I found the Ether Books team friendly, professional, and extremely helpful, and would definitely recommend that you all start using their app and – if you’re a writer – submitting your work to them.

Long time readers may remember the first part of this story which was once published here on (It Girl. Rag Doll), but this is the first time the full version has been available anywhere. For a Few Dollars More tells the story of Sally, “sixth form whore” whose customers range from her curious classmates to older, more experienced men.

Sally doesn’t meet strangers in the middle of the night, but she has met this man once before. Eric is balding and a little tired looking, tall and thin as though he has been wrung out by too much experience. But Sally doesn’t mind; he offered good money and kisses her cheek as she slides into the passenger seat of his car.

“Are you okay?” He asks, a look of slight concern on his face.

Sally flashes him a smile, straightening her grey skirt. “Peachy. And you?”

It’s not unusual for the older men to be worried about her. Sally finds it amusing that each client feels protective, as if he is any less perverse when he requests her school uniform and shyly asks that she wear her hair in bunches. She feels lucky to never have encountered much nastiness; most perverts are just bored.

Compared with my other published stories, this is much darker, and contains explicit depictions of non-consensual sex. Long time readers will be familiar with the kinds of transgression which my fiction engages, but new readers should know that this story is not for the faint of heart.

I would love to receive feedback and comments on this story, so if you read it and have something to share, please do come back and leave me a comment here. Or you can email me on harper (at) itgirlragdoll dot com.

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My curiosity piqued, I followed my friends through the double doors and even smirked a little as two beautiful young things greeted us. Too slight to be security, the entirety of their job was, apparently, to welcome the thousands of consumers who made it through those doors each day. I lowered my eyes, uncomfortable with the smiles they shone at us. Directly ahead was that ever famous torso, twenty feet high, evidently all the store needed in the way of logos. I even laughed as I noticed, standing before this giant image, a young man – perhaps my own age – the front of his grey hoody and red checkered shirt open to display his own ripped chest and stomach. At his side, safe in the casually slung crescent of his arm, was a plain looking girl, grinning at the camera whilst he smoldered above her.

Whether it was at this moment itself, or upon recollecting it as I was sucked into the heaving innards of the shop, I’m not sure: but when I reflect upon the experience, I see him, and my stomach turns.

It is one thing to stand before a camera in a white studio, or even to stride along the catwalk, visible but removed from the crowds; it is quite another to make yourself a mannequin for the titillation of tourists and consumers; to be touched like plastic, and photographed in no more than two dimensions. Looking at him, twenty minutes later, as I ducked out of the shop, desperate for the cold light of day and deeply inhaled nicotine, I wondered what that kind of objectification does to a person.

Of course, I have no doubt this role was one he had consented to. I don’t think it takes a great deal of persuading in order to get a model to pick up that kind of exposure. And perhaps it is incomparable, but thinking back I couldn’t help but contrast his situation with that of submissives who crave degradation and objectification. Yet, perhaps it is a poignant remark: our society is happy to let this man stand in the doorway, an object for the aesthetic pleasure of shoppers. How much thought do you think he put into this decision? As he stood there in the foyer, did he feel his smile become less sincere? Did his cheeks hurt? Did even one of the women or men who clamoured to be at his side wonder what his name was? Meanwhile, forced into the cupboard under the stairs, bound and gagged, any intelligent submissive has thought of this moment for a long time. He or she has pondered the implications, negotiated with a partner, measured to fit him or herself into that space. And, of course, there is the want. However, this latter image is one far beyond the comprehension, or the desire for comprehension, of most people.

But this is not an essay about BDSM. Even if this previous comparison does not stand up; even if the model in the foyer had dreamed of this moment, longed for it, begged for it, his customers didn’t know that. Far more important is the matter of us; of the consumers.

As I plunged into the low-lit, club-like atmosphere of the store, my ears filled with pounding bass, I observed the customers moving with almost desperate need. No one waited patiently; nor did they smile contentment. I saw only searching eyes, ravaging the shelves and the human mannequins: all carbon copies with only minutely differing palettes adorning the establishment. I saw kinder eyes in the face of my abuser. Some were placed strategically to look like assistants; others hovered at the top of the stairs, in doorways and alcoves, just to smile and ensure that you, the customer, were never left in any doubt of their aesthetic happiness. This disturbed me, firstly, knowing that never in a million years could I stand in this place and be considered perfect enough to represent it; not that I would ever want to, but that kind of discrimination fills me with fear for every girl or boy who feels their own inconsequence in the world. In the second instance I was struck by how revolting it is to use human beings as advertising. I wondered how these jobs were publicised, how the men and women were picked. What has happened to us that our friends and family and lovers may aspire to this kind of servitude?

I was wrong, at 14, when the highlight of channel 4’s Sunday morning line-up was The OC, a show about rich teenagers, troubled over society events and drug dealers. I naïvely believed that people watched it for the ridiculous, unintended humour of the action. Perhaps I wanted to believe that people were smart enough to remove themselves from that fantasy. But I was wrong. The vision sparked a hunger; a need for this shiny, unrealistic lifestyle. And now, here, in the middle of a city that has my heart, this disgusting desperation has been commodified. Now, for £50 you can buy a cardigan that will make you feel, in any situation, that you come from this place. That you are a part of it. But I have no doubt it will also leave you with a sense of inadequacy. Which is, of course, the saddest part of all: I don’t want to believe that my fellow man is sitting with a sense of futility all because he can’t be a handpicked, dehumanised mannequin. I so deeply want to believe in more than this; to look around and see faces satisfied through hard work and genuine emotion.

I would rather see a woman weeping over the death of her husband than witness the dissatisfaction of girl who’s shorts don’t quite conjure the universe she briefly inhabited as she handed over her hard earned cash. This place made me crave pain; not in the desirous way of a masochist, but as a girl, desperate to experience something real and present. I wanted to watch bruises bloom around my eye because someone had felt enough to do that to me.

Perhaps this seems dramatic; one company is representing a fantasy people will pay for; so what? But I am not so concerned with the existence of this particular place as I am with the demand for it. What does it say about who we are? We come from a species that has been to the moon. We have fought great and terrible wars over religion and truth; however horrific warfare may be, someone felt passionately enough to stake his life on his beliefs. We have pondered the creations of great men, and wept over the decisions of maniacs. And now, in a century where common people hold more technology and power in the palms of their hands than was present on that first space shuttle, we are pushing each other out of the way in the hope of acquiring nothing more than a word, sewn by slave fingers onto bright coloured acrylic.

Maybe I am being dramatic, but when I gasped free, stepping out onto the grey pavement, I was stuck by only one thought: this is the place love and morality come to die.

And it is not a place that should exist on earth.

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But perhaps that’s too big a challenge anyway. I would bend to kiss the feet of the person who can give three, four, five hours of discussion to each individual they meet who has misunderstood or misinterpreted what it means to be dominant, or submissive, or sadistic, or masochistic, or any variation and combination of the above; but I am not this person. Don’t get me wrong: when it comes to the people I love, my friends and, well, perhaps my family from the right angle, I will give it the time it takes to help them understand me and my life. But with near-strangers, I would prefer to order another G&T and discuss Tuesday’s episode of The New Normal.

Which brings me to two points: one, it is a gift beyond anything I have known to meet people who just understand. The conversation begins and it hits that moment, and there is no snag, no pause, just understanding. Of course, you will never completely agree with anyone, but there is a place of harmony where you don’t have to explain where you’re sitting, you can simply discuss what you see – because this other person sees it too. Maybe they don’t completely agree with your analysis, but they see it. Secondly, whilst the individual, micro-explaining that I described above may not be my chosen course of action, I still believe that a broader, more open discussion can bring people round to, not the same point of view as you, but a similar one, and certainly a lot more acceptance.

Which is why I am so thrilled that my dear friend Molly – who, incidentally, is one of those people with whom I just understand, without explanation – is running a session at Eroticon titled Myth Busting: the submissive woman. As part of her preparation for this session, she has asked her readers to answer a few questions about the imbalance between how submission manifests and how that is represented or misrepresented in the world.

And so Molly asks…

What are the top 5 myths/beliefs you would like to dispel about submissive women?
(I only have four, but they are closely interwoven.)

The main thing I would like to dispel is the myth that because I am a fiercely independent, strong-headed, ambitious, and – yes – dominant woman when it comes to my work, I am not really submissive. Anyone who has actually seen me submit will know that I truly am, at my core, submissive.

This first myth goes hand-in-hand with my second point: that a real submissive should be submissive to everyone. In reality – and this is true for 99% of the submissives I have met – the list of people I will submit to is a drop in the ocean of people I will not submit to.

The third belief I would like to dispel is actually more prevalent within the community than out of it: this is the infuriating belief that a true submissive will never say no to his/her dominant. That in order to really be submissive you have to agree to let down all your boundaries and agree to everything and anything you are told to do.

This also mixes with the fourth belief I would like to address: that safewords are unnecessary. People are allowed to play in whatever way they wish, but I am a strong believer in safewords and I am no less submissive for having one.

As a submissive woman, use up to 5 words to describe you or your submission.
The complete corruption of innocence.

In erotic fiction what are the most common ‘wrongs’ you come across that don’t work for you as a submissive woman?
My pet hate with all fiction is characters – but particularly female characters – who are so full of self-doubt and neuroses that it overwhelms all sense of agency. Whilst it could be argued that the reason this trope is used so often is that it is only a slightly exaggerated reflection of the truth for many people, it does not apply to everyone. Furthermore, it is a character flaw attributed all too often to submissive, female characters. Given our socialised understanding of a submissive woman as someone who requires a leader (and in some ways that can be true) it’s easy to understand why the submissive woman might be read as a character who cannot lead herself. The problem with this, for me, is that most of the submissive women I know actually have a very strong sense of self, often because they have had to look very deeply at themselves in terms of their submission.

If you could ask a submissive woman any question, what would it be?
This question is tricky for me because I know a lot of submissive women and have asked them many questions. But the main thing I always want to know is how her submission manifests for her. How it feels to be submissive, and what physical form it takes in terms of the actions and sexuality she lives. Because I know that it does not mean over-the-knee spanking for everyone, and even when it does, that still may not be at its core.

If you could as ME (Molly) any question, what would it be?
This question is even trickier because I am fortunate enough to be very close to Molly and I have asked her numerous burning questions this week alone. However, I do have a question I would like to ask publicly: what, from your point of view, is the best thing we – submissive women and the men and women we love – can do to help society better understand what it means to be submissive?

• • • • •

If you haven’t got your ticket for Eroticon 2013, it is not too late! Simply visit the site here and register for your weekend ticket.

And if you are coming to Eroticon on March 2nd-3rd, be sure to come and support Molly and the other delegates who are offering a free evening of erotic readings and cabaret. More information here.

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Of course, this categorisation isn’t just picked at random. A learned gender is usually based on essentialism (your biological sex). However, as we are seeing more and more, a person’s biological sex may not always be his/her preferred gender. We are encouraged in certain activities based on our gender, but our bodies don’t tell us what to be like; our parents and our peers do.

(This, of course, also relates to the nature vs. nurture argument. Personally I come down on the side of nurture. Although I have observed amazing natural traits in adopted children where I have some knowledge of their biological parents, these instances seem to be quite rare, and the overwhelming effect of nurture is fairly day-to-day.)

In Bodies That Matter Judith Butler argues that gender is performative, saying that one does not become a gender once and for all; rather, it is something one does. Drag shows, for example, could be seen as undoing the connection between gender and sex. She writes:

Performativity cannot be understood outside of a process of iterability, a regularised and constrained repetition of norms. And this repetition is not performed by a subject; this repetition is what enables a subject and constitutes the temporal condition for the subject. This iterability implies that ‘performance’ is not a singular ‘act’ or event, but a ritualised production, a ritual reiterated under and through constraint, under and through the force of prohibition and taboo, with the threat of ostracism and even death controlling and compelling the shape of the production, but not, I will insist, determining it fully in advance.

So here’s my point: the fact that I was born with a vagina is not the direct reason that I, for example, like nail varnish. I was born with a vagina and was thus raised female – given dolls and dance classes – and I settled happily into my learned gender; which is precisely what happens to the vast majority of us. We are taught a gender, and we are happy in it. We rarely question it or push it, because we are content to be what we have been taught to be – male or female.

Of course, there is a reason that as a child I was given dolls, and a cooker, and aprons, and my brother was given cars, and catapults, and yo-yos, and funnily enough it is the same reason that we have feminism: it’s because for thousands of years we have lived in a patriarchal society that says “girls like to cook and take care of babies, and boys like to fight and work”. In fact, some people would argue that we still do live in a patriarchy – what with wage inequality, and the social assumption that when a couple have children the Mother will stay at home with them. No matter how much we may wish we had always had equality, and no matter how much we may want to believe that we have it now, whether you believe that or not, we are still subject to the patriarchy of our past.

And unfortunately (no matter how much it may enrage the kink community) a part of that patriarchy is the submission of women and the dominance of men. For thousands of years women have been taught to be submissive to men as part of their feminine gender; and the opposite is true of men. This is not the kind of social assumption that we can simply undo. We are subject to the social impact of our past. Therefore, if gender is learned, and submission is part of learning a feminine gender, then it follows – does it not? – that in so far as we perceive it, submission is feminine. Not female as we understand it biologically, but feminine.

However! we are increasingly aware of a) the duality of masculine and feminine that we all have within us, and b) our freedom to eschew learned gender roles. Whilst most of us may be content in what we have been raised to “perform”, there are still more people in the world identifying as transgender and gender-neutral than ever before. Although it may be a slow process, the pressure to conform to your learned gender due to “prohibition and taboo, with the threat of ostracism” is decreasing.

We cannot undo our past and therefore it seems unlikely that submission will ever stop being related to the feminine. But what is changing already – not changed, but changing – is how we relate feminine to female/male. With terms like ‘metrosexual’ on the rise, it is becoming more and more acceptable for men to be feminine. And vice versa; we rarely hear anyone complaining about tomboys today. Therefore, whilst we may not be detaching submission from the feminine, we are detaching it from the female.

It’s a work in progress, but my main point here is that denying the truths of our history, or believing that we have evolved far beyond them, may make us feel better about how we are living now, but the changes that can allow us to realise these freedoms must, certainly, come from a place of open-eyed understanding about our past.

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A couple of things in particular have occurred to me on this topic, things which I have not seen discussed in any great detail. When drop is written about it is mostly generically or personally, and predominantly by people who identify as kinky. Although I have my own personal experiences, the two things that have been on my mind are 1) that the severity of drop is relative to the type of person experiencing it, and 2) that people with no kinks to speak of also experience drop; in fact, it can be experienced in a non-sexual setting as well. The most severe drop I ever experience comes after I have been in a theatrical production; come rain or come shine everyone in the company can agree that the days after a final performance are hellish and leave us feeling utterly lost.

Speaking of the severity of drop in relation to the person experiencing it, what I mean is that a particularly emotionally strong person might not experience it with much severity, even if they have engaged in a very intense, (for lack of a better word) hardcore play, whereas someone of a sensitive disposition might experience drop in the wake of simply kissing someone and then being left bereft of their presence. In fact, I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to say that many people experience drop after experimenting as teenagers and/or loss of virginity, without identifying it. That cold, aloneness of the morning after is something I remember as very emotionally unsettling. Reading this piece by Jillian Boyd brought my thoughts to a head. In the piece she describes playing with someone in a way which may seem casual, but was very intense for her – and I believe would be very intense for many, – and having to stop due to an overwhelming sense of emotional disarray. This sparked another thought; it is possible to experience drop mid-play. The emotion involved in many focused exploits is enough to tip some of us over the edge.

Of course, I think experience plays a large part in the way we handle drop; as we grow more experienced and learn more about ourselves we also handle emotion better. I certainly don’t experience drop anywhere near as seriously as I did a couple of years ago.

Personally, I feel I have come across far too many people who engage in intense play and know almost nothing of drop. It is important to be able to identify it in order to ask that your needs be met. This was something I learnt long after I started experiencing drop; luckily, when I was finally able to name the feeling, I was simultaneously introduced to the concept of aftercare. Aftercare is the antidote; it is whatever we need in order to deal with the drop. For most it means comfort, care and cuddling. It is slightly different for everyone, but in general it seems most agree that a sense of being looked after is key. I believe it gets more complicated when both partners require aftercare, but I will leave that discussion for another time; I have personally never been with someone who needed aftercare, although I always make sure I check in with my partner to ensure they are doing okay.

However, with the advent of the internet, aftercare has become problematic. Now that we are able to connect with people who are not in our immediate vicinity, we are also able to play with them. But we are not able to get the physical aftercare we may require. Although there is a good case for the argument that you can’t build up the same intensity online as you can in person and therefore you don’t require the same level of aftercare, I believe there is still an imbalance. It would seem that online play can become more intense than online aftercare is equipped to deal with. Another problem – and I am loathe to bring this up because I have no desire to discuss the ethics of cheating on this blog post, but I think it’s important to add to the discussion – is that many people in relationships now have easier access to sex outside those relationships. What this means is that people may be able to go and play during the day, but more likely than not they will then have to go home to their partner afterwards, leaving the other person alone to deal with the drop.

I’m aware that there are people who would argue, then, that this is just another reason not to cheat, but I don’t like to pass judgement in such a general way; people cheat for all kinds of reasons and it is not my place to say they should not. Besides which, I have slept with married people; but that is my own business. The only part of that which I wish to discuss is this:

Harper Eliot’s Guide to Surviving Drop Alone. (Yes, the preceding 1000 words have all been leading up to this.) Since reading Jilly’s piece and generally contemplating how I take care of myself after playing with someone, I’ve been considering what tips I would give to someone experiencing drop on their own. And with all the pain and sadness I see on twitter every day, it seemed like something I should share. Of course, the following is very personal and can only be taken as advice and maybe a starting point; it is not law. It is also very simple; almost common sense really. The other thing which occurs to me when considering what follows is that if you’re female a lot of this may be very close to the kind of care you might require during menstruation. Whatever you do to take care of yourself at that time might be worth replicating during drop.

1. Communication with your partner. Even if he/she is not physically in the room, communication is important. Text, phonecalls, email, instant messaging, social networking… these are all tools you can use during drop. Talk. Demand the care you need. Conversely, if you don’t get it, you should not be playing with this person.

2. Communication with your friends. You don’t have to tell them what’s bothering you if you don’t want to, but speaking to a friendly voice is often very helpful.

3. Tears. You are allowed to cry. In fact, if you feel even the slightest need to, I openly encourage it. Crying can be an incredible release. It is therapeutic. It allows you to let out a huge amount of whatever negativity you are feeling. Make your pillow wet.

4. Cleanliness. Bathe, shower, BRUSH YOUR TEETH. Feeling the dirt of the day is just another burden to your body. You need to take care of yourself and feel comfortable and cosy in your skin. Not to mention the relaxing bliss that is a hot bath.

5. Clothes. Personally I feel a hoodie or a jumper can go a long way in helping you feel calm, relaxed and comforted. Keeping your body warm helps a lot. And the comfort of well-known everyday clothes helps as well. I would not, however, advise keeping items of clothing specifically for drop. The clothes need to aid you in coming back to everyday life so it is better if they are things you wear at other times too. Pajamas are good.

6. Food. Feel free to indulge in something not-so-healthy – like chocolate or chips – but don’t make this your entire diet. I cannot say enough good things about eating a substantial, healthy meal post-play. Not only does it help you recover, replenishing your body with what it needs, it also helps you psychologically if you know you are eating something that’s good for you.

7. Sleep. Make sure you get a good night’s sleep. Your body needs it. Your head needs it. You need it. You will feel better in the morning.

8. Busyness. Once you have a good night’s sleep under your belt I would advise that you get back to being busy with everyday life. Work is so good for this. As is housework, although try to get out of the house as well. Fresh air is your friend.

9. Music. Listen to something soothing, happy and warming. Something you love. Perhaps something that reminds you of good nights out with friends. (And if you’re kinky there are plenty of kinky podcasts to remind you that you’re not alone; although discussion is better than smut.)

10. Entertainment. Whether it be a book or television or magazines or the internet or an actual human being, find yourself something that truly makes you laugh. And laugh. As they say, it is the best medicine.

And there you have it. Ten steps to being a happy, healthy, (often kinky) person. You are entitled to your low feelings and you are owed your happiness.

Edit: there are lots of good comments and further advice below but I would particularly like to direct you to Abel’s comment; he talks about a side which I completely neglected.

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All human beings are born free and equal (in dignity and rights).

This opening line is, of course, extremely important. The question of freedom is one that I have discussed here at great length, on several occasions, and it is something that many people devote many hours to in consideration, particularly as concerns situations where the expression of one person’s freedom impedes another’s. Which is why what follows this first line is so important:

All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.

The latter sentence suggests to me a particular kind of responsibility, and to my mind, nowhere is this responsibility so apt as in freedom of speech. When I’m writing articles (rather than fiction) I spend a lot of time considering how best to express what I have to say in a way that is neutral and discussable rather than offensive and provocative. Of course, this is something I do out of choice; I have the freedom to choose how to write and how to express myself.

With that in mind, do we, in fact, have any right to censor or condemn those who choose to express themselves with less care?

Just before the weekend Discerning Dom wrote a piece called ‘No Limits‘ which earned him a barrage of comments from disgruntled and offended readers, myself included. Generally speaking I am an avid reader of his blog; it is regularly insightful, oftentimes exciting, and DD himself is an elusive man which lends a sense of mystery to his writing. But I, as a reader, a submissive, a masochist and a writer, have also come to rely on a certain amount of level-headed good sense in his articles.

As a writer I feel that DD is particularly good at blurring the lines between his fantasies, his memoirs and his thoughts on BDSM. For the most part this is done quite seamlessly and it simply makes the reading experience richer. However, with ‘No Limits’ I felt this line blurring became less elusive and more irresponsible.

In the first paragraph he writes:

And while she was suffering, whimpering and wriggling, we had a most interesting conversation about safe words. I haven’t got one, she said (‘Can I take the clamps off now? Please?’ ‘No.’)

From the moment I read this, I felt uneasy. Of course it is completely up to DD and his partner how they choose to play; if it’s consensual then, to my mind, it is their decision. However, the way that sentence is constructed – “And while she was suffering […] we had a […] conversation about safe words” – hit a nerve with me. It seems to suggest that the question of safe words had never come up before. Again, everyone has the right to play in whatever way they want to, but as the piece goes on and the pair discuss limits, DD begins to draw some pretty clear boundaries, and lay them down as though they are absolute truths:

Let me explain, I said, being a reasonable man. You are my submissive, right? Yes. That means you will always do what I say. You have agreed never to say no to me. OK, she said. Submission that draws a line and says no further isn’t really submission at all, I said.

At this point, as someone who engages in dominance and submission, I felt my freedom had been somewhat impinged upon. DD is clearly a seasoned dominant as well as a knowledgeable writer, and personally I feel that these two things give him a voice or, at the very least, a tone of authority; so when I read his ideas and his thoughts on D/s, I take notice because I feel fairly sure he knows what he’s talking about. I think for a blog that does very little self-promotion, he is very well read; his pieces get a fair few comments and he seems to have a group of ardent followers. This suggests to me that I am not the only one who trusts his words, nor the only one who promotes his blog. So you can imagine how these words, coming from someone whose authority I usually trust, felt like an attack on my freedom to submit in whatever way my partners and I choose. The closest simile I can get is this: imagine you fall in love and then you go and see your therapist and s/he tells you you’re not in love.

Furthermore, reading the above section I couldn’t help but feel worried; had I read it two years ago, maybe even a year ago, I would probably have been far less skeptical and perhaps even adopted his apparent devil-may-care attitude towards safe words. To me that is a frightening idea, particularly when followed by sentences like:

That’s what submission is all about. It’s about giving in, not about negotiating.

And:

A submissive who isn’t a little bit scared isn’t really a submissive at all.

I find his ‘this is the only way to do kink’ use of language deeply unsettling. Not only is it irresponsible in regards to his readers, but it is also disrespectful to dominants and submissives who choose to play or interact differently. If he had simply taken the time and forethought to premise these sentences with “the way I play” or “in my personal opinion” (for example) none of what he wrote would have offended me.

As I mentioned, I am not the only one who commented on DD’s piece negatively, and I have discussed it with others as well; different people had slightly different takes on it, and I’d urge you to go and read their comments as well. But I also think it is important that I direct you to DD’s rebuttal. Reaffirming his own sanity and level-headedness, DD wrote a second piece – in response to our comments – which did allay several of my own fears:

I think that if you read the blog as a whole it’s pretty clear I am not a psycho and that I don’t advocate abusing women, no matter how submissive.

This is true. I have read his blog for a long time and this is the first time I have ever felt uneasy about something he has written. He also mentioned that his partner was not in the room with him in the scene he describes in ‘No Limits’ which, I’ll agree, does make a difference; I have played a lot online but have never felt the need to use safe words in that setting due to the fact that there is only a limited amount of power you can give up over the internet. However I don’t think that was made explicitly clear in his original piece. He goes on to explain the level of trust he and his partner share:

And because she trusts me she is willing to dispense with various props like safe words.

Recently someone described consent to me as something that can evolve into trust; where you might first have a list of things you consent to, over time, as the relationship you share with the other person evolves, the list gives over to your trust that the other person won’t hurt you. Although it is perhaps worth mentioning that I still felt a little irritated by his careless use of the word “props” to describe safe words. I know for a fact that many people don’t consider safe words “props” so much as they do essential foundations. But again, that is really up to the discretion of whoever is playing.

In this second piece DD also defended himself on the basis that he does not, nor has he ever claimed to, write an instructional BDSM blog; in fact, his blog has the word “memoirs” in the title. Whilst that is unequivocally true, I think the following comment, posted on DD’s rebuttal, illustrates pretty well that his blurred non-fiction style does sometimes read like advice or guidance on BDSM:

I have just read you last posting and as a very new sub I agree with what you have said it is your views and anyone reading should either go away if they don’t like what they see and read or like me read and say thank you because reading your blog is what has helped me with what for me was a very difficult time and transition. so thank you for your help.

Personally I think this comment speaks for itself, so I’ll let it do just that.

But I have hugely digressed. Whilst DD’s piece does beg discussion, is for me only one example of what might be considered ‘careless’ writing, and when I come back to this point, I have real trouble justifying my complaints. After all, what I would like to champion overall is everyone’s freedom to make their own choices. What is most important to me is that DD – and all other writers for that matter – has the freedom to write his blog, be it fantasy, memoir, or advice, in whatever way he likes.

However, blogging and commenting are communal activities, so while he has the right to write what he chooses, if the comments are left open, we, the readers, have the right to comment as well, and I have said many times that, for me, discussion and debate are the most rewarding parts of blogging.

So perhaps it is just that; whilst each writer has the right to publish whatever s/he chooses, s/he also has a responsibility to do so consciously, and if the author chooses to waive that responsibility or genuinely doesn’t see what in their writing might be offensive, the responsibility then falls to us, the readers, to respond.

Which is exactly what I have done.

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