Emmanuelle Undine: A Siren Laid Bare

Submissive Ritual

2012-02-29T06:00:00.000-05:00

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about dominance and submission (D/s), particularly in terms of how it impacts my relationship with my husband, PC. To be specific, D/s seems to extend beyond the roles we adopt in our private, BDSM play scenes.

In an earlier post I mentioned how this dynamic has been integral to our relationship since the start, even though PC balks at the term “Dominant,” and, until recently, I never acknowledged my role as the “submissive” in our interaction. Nonetheless, the more I read about BDSM, the more I’ve come to realize that we are in some ways negotiating a mental, 24/7 Dom/sub relationship.

Sub Frenzy

2012-02-22T06:00:00.000-05:00

As you can imagine from my previous post, kinky Dom's scenarios drove me wild – I was horny enough to take on a battalion of men and still want more. Sex (and submissive scenarios in particular) was on my mind 24/7. In short, I suffered from an acute case of sub frenzy.

His Barbarous Bitch

2012-02-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

In revenge and in love, woman is more barbarous than man.*

The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.**

Was it a need for revenge that drove me to create a profile on a BDSM site? In part, yes. I was enraged at PC for betraying my trust, and I felt a need to even the score between us. But that’s only half the story.

Happy Kinky Lovers' Day!

2012-02-14T09:40:00.001-05:00

To all you sexy, pervy, kinky people out there: Happy lovers' day!!!!

I hope all of you have something dirty planned, even if it's a date with your favorite toy.

As for me, PC spoiled me rotten this weekend!!! I'll tell you about it soon. Here's a teaser: When I got home from work Friday, he had changed all the light bulbs in our apartment... to red. It was a prelude to one of the hottest weekends we've ever spent together....

Kisses, E. xox

Till Kink Do Us Part?

2012-02-08T06:00:00.000-05:00

Rage – oh god! Let me tell you of the rage I harbored against my husband PC, selfish, unyielding, that almost cost us our marriage.

It was the fight to end all fights. I can write about it now, in the safety and comfort of our renewed peace. If ever I emphasized the importance of communication in intimate relationships, I will do so again with added vigor, not to mention a heightened awareness of its critical significance.

The Perils of Poisonous French Books

2012-02-01T06:00:00.000-05:00

In Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, debaucherous Lord Henry Wotton lends his naive acolyte, Dorian, a "poisonous" yellow book. It serves as a blue print for the young man’s descent into decadence and hedonism.

Much like Dorian, I owe the current turn in my own sexual journey, from swinger to something more – to something that embraces kink and BDSM practices, as well as a polyamorous understanding of my relationship with PC – to the power of the written word.

Two books in particular galvanized my imagination, setting in motion a series of emotional transformations from which I have yet to recover.

The Return of the Repressed

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-05:00

This post elaborates on part three of the sexual exploration trilogy I’m living out with PC. For a run-down of parts one and two, see my previous post.

The Semantics of Sex

In an attempt to find answers to the questions I have been asking myself recently as a result of my increasing dissatisfaction with our group sex encounters, I’ve come to one conclusion: The notion of using categories to define any sort of intrinsic or immutable aspect of my sexuality is both naïve and misguided. In comparison to our stint as “swingers,” a time when our boundaries were relatively fixed, this stage of our sexual evolution is so fluid and volatile that we find ourselves negotiating limits on an almost daily basis.

Redefining the Fucking Subject

2012-01-18T06:00:00.000-05:00

I’ve been contemplating how to classify the lifestyle PC and I are living out since the spring of 2010. Why do I obsess over definitions, especially given that the very act of categorizing something – a lifestyle, a sexual practice – limits its horizon of possibilities? If the word, defining, muzzles? Why dwell on semantics in a post-feminist age? Why not adopt a coalitional approach to sexual practices and identity such as the one advocated by queer theorist Judith Butler?

For one, I’m a writer, and this is a blog. From a practical standpoint, search engines work on concrete terms. To reach like-minded readers, I must use the scripted code of keywords to define sex acts, sexual orientations, relationship boundaries, fetishes, kinks, and so forth.

In an effort to stay true to my main objective in writing this blog – the documenting of my sexual evolution —, what follows is a critical assessment of my journey so far.

Mindfucked: Wet for Sci-Fi Dick (Part 2)

2012-01-11T06:00:00.000-05:00

In my last post I introduced you to Philip K. Dick’s Cris from “The Golden Man,” one of the hottest male characters in 1950s science fiction. If you recall, this 18-year old genetic deviant’s mutation gives him a special power coveted by all men (who are into women): It makes his irresistible to human females. When he gets captured by Baines, a government agent, and is brought in for examination, he manages to escape captivity and certain death by seducing Baine’s fiancé, Anita.

Curious to see Cris in action? Want some insight into how women read erotica? Let me walk you through Dick’s skilfully designed seduction scene.

Mindfucked: Wet for Sci-Fi Dick (Part 1)

2012-01-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

I get wet every time I read Philip K. Dick's "The Golden Man": One of those rare, 1950s dystopian science-fiction stories that appeals to a woman’s sensibilities.

This story's orgasmic twist is unusual even for Dick, whose fixation with young, model-thin femme fatales named Pris (epitomized by Darryl Hannah’s character in Blade Runner) echoes the fantasies of a predominantly male audience.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T18:47:00.002-05:00

Dear readers:

Happy New Year!

I wish each and every one of you a wonderfully sexy night in or out, whatever your plans. To those of you who do not celebrate the New Year tonight: Have a great Saturday night!

Clit Blocked at Cinema l'Amour

2011-12-28T06:00:00.000-05:00

In my last post, I left you hangin’ mid-action, during an anonymous group sex hookup at Cinema l’Amour. If you recall, yours truly and a hot blond were both sucking the same cock, “licking him lengthwise, our tongues touching over the arc of his hard on....”

I wish that were true.

Let me tell you what actually happened.

Balls Deep at Cinema l'Amour

2011-12-21T06:00:00.000-05:00

PC grabs me by the hair at the nape of my neck and starts kissing me, biting my cheeks playfully, working the zipper of my coat with his free hand. I close my eyes and fall into his groove, my mind and body craving his touch. At the sound of movement in the booth next to us he pulls away from me sharply, mid-kiss. We look at each other, eyes full of mischief, like two kids who’ve been lying low at the top of the basement stairs waiting for an opportune moment to sneak cookies from the jar on the kitchen counter.

We hear more dull shuffling, accompanied by the metallic click of snap buttons. A middle-aged couple emerges from the booth and slowly walks past us, their eyes glazed, a muted, self-satisfied grin on the man’s face. “Let’s go!” PC whispers excitedly under his breath.

Inside Cinema l'Amour

2011-12-14T06:00:00.000-05:00

“Let’s go,” PC whispers impatiently as we edge closer to the entrance. For once I’m happy it’s blistering cold: I’ve got the hood on my parka down so low over my eyes it’s a wonder I can walk straight. In two breaths I’m standing in front of two glass doors covered with porny sex posters, pulling the one on the right open with force, afraid to get stuck halfway in the doorway. Walking into this place always stresses me out – you never know who you might bump into on this trendy stretch of Saint-Laurent....

Occupy Cinema l'Amour

2011-12-07T06:00:00.000-05:00

This call to action goes out to all the urban, sex-positive, pansexual, orgy-lovin’ locals.

We need to mobilize.

There’s a hot play space in the heart of our city that is in desperate need of occupyin’ by a new generation of players: Cinema l’Amour.

Located on the corner of Duluth and Saint-Laurent (right across the street from Friperie Saint-Laurent), you've probably walked by it on your way up the Main. Open all day (from 11 am to 11 pm), this venue has tremendous potential as a chill spot to score some sexy time.

Desperately Seeking Hot Bi Woman

2011-11-30T06:00:00.000-05:00

You name it, we’ve tried it: We’ve posted profiles on every website with any cred in the Montreal nomo* scene in search of a hot bi woman. (Don’t even get me started on all the dudes who sent us messages – what part of “couple seeking bi woman” did they not understand, I wonder?) We struck out every time – with one delightful exception: Our current, albeit soon to be ex, unicorn (a.k.a. Uni-2).

Why soon to be ex? Before I tell you, let me give you a snapshot of what it is that we’re passing up. (You’ll probably wanna bitch-slap me with your smart phone for letting this one go.)

Mindfucked: Hot Husband Lifestyle?

2011-11-23T06:00:00.000-05:00

The craziest thing happened to me last Wednesday: I got a text from PC while on my lunch break asking me if he could invite Uni*, our shared girlfriend, over to our place.

Me: "Tonight? Not feeling it, sorry babe."
Me (in my head): "I need some down time."
Him: "No, I mean NOW."
Me (in my head): "Say WHAT????"

Fangbangers & Swinging Cannibals

2011-11-16T06:00:00.000-05:00

November is dismal in Montreal. The gunmetal sky casts a pall over everything. The bitter north wind chills you to the bone. There’s no escaping the city’s funereal gloom. You can see it in our drawn faces. You can smell it in the dry, withered leaves that litter our streets.

The town's a cemetery. Swathed in black, we seem to mourn the passing of summer as we brace ourselves for the cold months ahead.

Here, sex has its seasons. In spring, it surges like a flash flood, washing away our reserve. The first sight of bare skin, so long concealed, is a revelation. In summer, the high tide of lust, when the oppressive heat flows over us, our bodies come together slowly, magically, as in an opium dream....

Mastering the Sasha Grey (Gag-Free) Reflex

2011-11-09T06:00:00.000-05:00

Occasionally, I surf porn. Sometimes it's to get off, in which case I'm a creature of habit: Right now I'm fixated on gang bangs, particularly anal gang bangs. I love nothing more than to see a gaping asshole getting stretched and penetrated by a series of really thick, long cocks....

That split-second moment, when you see his hand gripping the shaft as he presses the glans up against her tight, trembling anus gives me shivers. Add a juicy, drippy, messy cream pie finish, and I'm delirious.....

Sirens & Starfish

2011-11-02T06:00:00.000-04:00

The woman you fuck, the woman you marry: The siren and the starfish. The first seduces and emasculates you; the other lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Silent, immobile, spread out like a five-pointed Asteroidea clinging to the sea floor, she waits for you to finish.

Do men still think of women in terms of this kind of reductive, virgin/whore dichotomy? Do women still judge each other according to these stereotypes? Is there any way to reconcile these archetypal extremes?

His Bloody Valentine

2011-10-29T00:00:00.000-04:00

***This is an off-schedule, bonus post – a Hallowe’en treat from me to you.***

Unlike most women, I enjoy getting my period. I love the fullness of my breasts, my heightened sense of smell, and the hormone-induced, drowsy inertia that overcomes me when I fall asleep. I even welcome the dull, aching pain in my uterus and ovaries: It compels me to acknowledge that I have a body.

Best of all, though, is the sight of fresh, bright-red blood against creamy white porcelain – right before the clear toilet water dilutes it....

Riding the Second Wave

2011-10-26T06:00:00.000-04:00

I’m one of those aesthetically minded readers who always judges a book by its cover. In this case, my vintage edition of The Female Eunuch was just begging to be handled on account of the provocative, trompe-l’œil image of a bodysuit gracing its front cover.

In spite of PC’s repeated praise of Germaine Greer’s writing style, it was the picture that finally won me over: It reminded me of the Jean-Paul Gaultier second-skin dresses I visited recently at the Montréal Museum of Fine Arts.

Guys, if you’re afraid of the “f” word (i.e., “feminism”) ‘cause you think that the writer of said type of book is out to cut your dick off, take heart. Greer actually bitch-slaps women for being patsies, or what she defines as “female eunuchs.”

Inside Le Celeste: The End of an Era

2011-10-19T06:00:00.000-04:00

It pains me to put fingers to keyboard to type this: PC and I are done with Le Céleste – at least for now. Ever since our last visit on that fateful Thanksgiving Sunday, I’ve been mulling over our disappointment with the club, trying to identify the root cause of our discontent.

Torn between two play choices for that night – “Public Disgrace” at L’Orage or “Belles en Blanc” at Le Céleste – PC and I chose to go to “Belles en Blanc.” Motivated by two parts nostalgia and one part denial, we entertained high hopes of reliving the euphoric flash-fucking evening we had the privilege of experiencing last summer at the old Céleste’s “Belles en Blanc” Labor Day party. Contrary to our expectations, however, this year we ended up leaving before midnight. Frustrated and confused, we hit a Plateau diner to discuss the postmortem on our half-baked night out.

Born this Way: Profile of a Montreal Nomo ("Swinger") Couple

2011-10-12T05:00:00.001-04:00

Were PC and I born this way? Are swingers* hardwired to be sexually non-monogamous? I am neither a psychologist nor a research chair in human genetics, so I’m not qualified to weigh in on the academic side of this debate.** My personal experience is the sole basis from which I can draw any conclusions.

I’ve been in both sexually exclusive and sexually open long-term relationships. The bottom line? For me, sexual non-monogamy feels right: It makes the most sense from a visceral, affective, and intellectual standpoint.

This Just In: Where to Go Tonight

2011-10-09T15:52:00.000-04:00

My two fave Montreal swinger clubs are each hosting what promise to be deliciously decadent, albeit radically different, sex parties. I'm torn -- I can't decide between wanting to wear a delightfully skimpy white dress, or wanting to get laced into a black corset, complete with garters and fishnets. What do you think? (It's been a while since PC had the pleasure of yanking on my leash in public....) I guess it all hinges on my mood later tonight. :)