Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

The Proposition of a Lifetime

The beauty of the D/s world is that it pushes both Domme and sub to explore their limits, to see just how far they could go. Because I’m a Domme and quite comfortable with myself and my identity as such, it’s easy for me to embrace new opportunities, to see how I might be able to taste new experiences and challenge myself to go further because I know my core, I know the center to which I will return if things don’t work out, is solid.

You don’t have that luxury. Your identity as a sub is still unstable; you are still uncomfortable in your own submissive skin. You are not comfortable with the concept that a real man is strong and dominant and that if you willingly and consciously choose to be submissive, you are not deserving of the honor of being called a man. You are not what you’ve been socialized to be; and giving up that concept can be pretty scary when faced with the reality. You aren’t a man. You aren’t assertive, aggressive, or domineering, you don’t have it in you. You pretend to be in control, you play the role, but inside, you know the truth. You come with the equipment of a man yet you do not possess the inherent strength and character to be a real man. You aren’t a woman for a woman is to be revered and honored. A real woman is holy and sacred and beautiful. You are “other”. You are a lowly submissive swine. You are something to be despised, used, mistreated, and abused. You are something whose very existence is an anomaly. You are ashamed of your penis, it’s small size, and of its inability to simultaneously deliver pain and pleasure the way a real man can.

If you were to belong to me, to be my possession and my pet, imagine the possibilities. Imagine if I were to control your desires, your cravings, to transform you into the depraved, perverted, filthy, vile thing of your dreams, to allow you the opportunity to express and live your most warped fantasies. What would your life be like if I owned you like an object, if I had control of your soul? What if you knew you had the honor of belonging to me in a way that no one else could? Imagine being loved by me and despised by me at the same time. Imagine for a brief moment that your entire world revolves around your worship of me and my ability to release you from the confines of being a man and becoming a dirty, insatiable, whore whose only limits are defined by me.

If you were to sign your life over to me, to relinquish your rights as a human being and become my possession, your life would be forever altered. Let’s not pretend here that we are talking about slavery for this would be completely voluntary on your part. You could continue to go through your daily activities, appearing normal to your co-workers and the hoards of nameless strangers you encounter, but your soul would belong to me. Your every waking thought would be filled with images of me, of how I know your kinkiest fantasies and desires and my willingness and ability to make those dreams reality. Our synergy, our balance comes from my desire to see you debased and humiliated in ways that would make most people’s stomachs turn, that would shock and horrify even the most dark and disturbed minds. You long to have no limits, you long to be transformed into a sub-human sexual, feral animal and you know that I can take you there.

Your very body, mind and soul would belong to me. I would take possession of your nipples, torturing and twisting them until you screamed out in pain. The searing ache of having your tits pierced and weighted for my amusement would register in your brain as pleasure. In our world, pain would become your bliss, your state of euphoria. I would deliver crushing blows to your useless nuts, that I would derive enjoyment from seeing you doubled over, on the verge of consciousness, your pain connecting us as lovers, however non-traditionally defined that may be. It would all be worth it I’m sure. You would endure tremendous pain to be able to feel my warm breath whispering in your ear, telling you that you were a good boy, that you made me proud. Your reward would be my soft hand, wrapped around your throat, choking you, my spit dripping from your face, depriving you of air and toying with your life. What a strange sensation that would be, to have your cock throbbing and hard while you feel yourself passing out, while your mind struggles to stay alive but you surrender your will to me, knowing that I will not let you die. Your fight or flight reflex completely abated in deference to the ecstasy you derive from knowing that your life is literally in my hands. Will you beg and plead for more while I reign down blow after stinging blow on your ass with my whip, making your flesh searing hot from the pain? What sort of thing experiences delight from having their faced slapped, feels arousal when their mouth filled with my slimy green snot and phlegm, gets hard from eating their own puke after being forcefully face fucked and gagged? Certainly not a human being, and certainly not a man.

Your pussy would be in a constant state of arousal under my control and direction. Giving up the pretense of being a man would allow you to accept that your cunt is insatiable and slutty, the center of your sexual being, your source for stimulation. Kept in constant chastity, the only time you would be allowed to orgasm would be through stimulation of your prostate. How many months do you think it would take for you to be able to accomplish that, your nuts swollen, tender, and sore, desperate for release. I’d have to completely re-wire your brain until your asshole got swollen and wet like a real pussy when you were aroused, until you lived to feel your hole stuffed with the hard, pounding cocks of real men. You’d have no choice but to give up the pretense of only wanting dildos and strapons in your fuck hole. Released and free to be who you are meant to be, you’d have to acknowledge that your cravings for real, hot, hard, thick, long dicks pounding you is real and undeniable. Being a cum whore is your natural state of being and it would be up to me to protect you as my pet and possession from harm or disease. It would be at my discretion to provide you with your source of men who will satiate your thirst for cum in your mouth and pussy. Needing to please me, however, knowing I derive pleasure from seeing you used and fucked like a cheap slut, you would never get enough. The minute one filthy dick would be pulled from your gaping, used hole, you would be screaming for another to replace it, knowing that seeing you get fucked makes my real pussy wet and swollen with arousal.

To earn the honor of being allowed to pleasure my body must be an intimidating and scary thought. I have to think that you would count the days until I get my period, knowing that your mouth will be my pad, your tongue my tampon, tasting my blood, treasuring it, licking the soft, wet folds of my pussy and longing for the sweet release of my cum in the process. Oh the torture of having your mouth so near my divine center, tasting my hot, salty piss, never knowing if I’m going to gift you with the opportunity to have my pussy lowered to your face, smothering you, suffocating you with the sweetness of my pussy, feeling the full weight of my body on your face, smelling the musky scent of my ass. On those special and rare occasions when I am pleasured by a real man, to know that you will be able to service me by licking my pussy and asshole clean, to feel my explosive cum flavored farts, tinged with flecks of feces, after my body has been satisfied and pleasured will surely be a privilege. Tasting the mixture of cum and sweat from REAL love making, knowing that you will never again in life, as long as you belong to me, feel the sensation of penetrating a woman again. Feeling my hardened black nipples in your mouth as you suckle them while you call me Mommy and know that I am your primary care giver and owner must be a delight incomprehensible to your feeble mind.

Belonging to me, being my possession, praying at the altar of my asshole would mean that my shit would become your sacrament, your holy communion. You long to feel that connection, that intimacy, that gift of servitude and submission, the ultimate act of degradation. Only you don’t see it as humiliating, do you? You see it as your gift to me, our connection and bond cemented by the fact that you CRAVE my shit in your mouth, in your body, as symbolic of your life being mine. You are shit. You are nothing more than a worthless, pathetic piece of shit and having my shit in you makes you somehow more worthy, more validated. Your arousal is perversely tied to my shit. On your hands and knees, getting savagely fucked by my strapon, with your head in the toilet filled with my foul-smelling turds, you can only breathe in their toxic fumes and feel pangs of jealousy and envy that you were not allowed to be my toilet, crying out in pleasure as you feel me pound your asshole and you can see the contents of my bowels mere inches from your face, intoxicated by the stench, salivating and distraught at the sight of my brown gifts being flushed away.

Know, dear one, that if you did belong to me, I would treat you as my perverted little plaything with great pleasure. Your little clit would get hard every time I told you that I was going to prepare you to get fucked, bending you over and filling you colon with water, only to have you go outside and evacuate your intestines in the backyard like some sort of animal. Sliding that nozzle in, filling you with water, caressing your balls gently while I tell you what a nasty piece of trash you are, making you moan in pleasure as I allow the water to fill you to capacity, the cramps blinding you with pain and discomfort, the pleasure unspeakable as you release the disgusting contents of your rectum, shit splattering all down your legs, your face in my hands as I tell you how wet it makes my pussy to see you do something so foul and degrading for me.

Transformed, your entire being would be meant to ensure that I was as pampered, catered to, and indulged with any and every nicety life has to offer. Truly living to serve me, laying at my feet, fulfilling my every whim, wish, and desire. Every chore, every errand and task, you would complete with joy, knowing it might make me happy, that it might bring a smile to my face. Your role as the breadwinner and primary provider for our little “family” would be to give all of your earnings and savings over to me. I would make the financial decisions, choosing which investments would be most fruitful and provide me with the most benefit. Your allowance would be minimal at best, allowing you to exist but certainly not experience luxuries. Your wallet is tied to your manhood, and being less than a man, you would gladly hand over your credit, your cash flow, and your potential earnings so that I might be your queen. You will pay me to own you, to allow you to be the nasty, putrid, degenerate you long to be, that lurks under the surface of your mediocre existence now, desperate to be set free.

For me, my ultimate arousal will be in seeing your uncontrollable tears as I threaten to release you from my control, to send you back out into the world, un-collared and un-owned, to fend for yourself. Your tortured pleas, desperate and pathetic, begging me to keep you, use you, degrade and humiliate you in ways beyond anything you’ve already endured will be sweet music to my ears. I might just tease you with empty threats to see how far you would go for me or I might make good on my word and dispose of you like used toilet paper. I get aroused at the idea of seeing another submissive brought in, paraded in front of you, your replacement, so that you can suffer the insecurity and low self-esteem of knowing that another will be gifted with the opportunity to perform for me. My twisted and perverse pleasure comes from knowing that I could make you so depressed, so despondent at the thought of being cast aside, that you would be reduced to a whimpering, whining, shell of a human being. Knowing that I have that much control over another person makes my fucking pussy unbelievably wet.

In public, you would be my companion and friend, behind closed doors, you would assume your true role as my servant, slut, and plaything. You don’t think you are deserving of belonging to me. You are afraid that you will have to completely redefine yourself and your worldview if you were to belong to me. It terrifies you more to think of what might be than to remain alone and unfulfilled, masturbating to fantasies that could become a reality if you were to only let yourself experience letting go of the pretense of being a real man.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK

Thursday, April 23, 2009

What am I to do?

It’s Spring. The weather is getting warmer, everything is coming back to life, the flowers are in bloom, it’s time for planting and new beginnings. It’s time to form new relationships. It’s time for romance and passion and sensuality; it’s time for eroticism and love. I want all of those things. I want flirt and kiss and . . . I want to have sex. I want to have more than sex, I want mind-blowing, brain-numbing, hot, sweaty, intense love-making. I want to have sex for so long I’m dehydrated and exhausted. I want to fuck the sheets off the bed and annoy the neighbors. I want someone to share my bed with, someone I will go out to dinner with and leave early because we can’t wait to rip each other’s clothes off.

I want all of those things and sadly, they are all elusive. I can’t find a partner. I can’t find someone to even be my lover for a few months, someone whom I can trust and let down my guard with enough to be to satisfy my very carnal and very real desires. I need chemistry and attraction. I need someone who takes my breath away and who stimulates my mind. I want someone who wants me, all of me, not just my body but someone who can see me as more than a booty call. I don’t even mind a summer fling with some dark and mysterious stranger who has to leave for Sudan in September to fulfill his Doctors without Borders responsibilities. I want is man who isn’t terrified of me saying I love you and who understands the concept of intimacy and monogamy. I crave a man who knows how to seduce me, mmmmmm, and who knows how to whisper in my ear and get me wet. WHY, dear lord, is it so difficult for me to find connection?

I am in awe and wonder at the people who can go out and find a partner in no time at all. I know people who are the most dysfunctional, the most oblivious individuals possible who can get a new boy/girlfriend every year. I haven’t been in a relationship since Bush, Sr. was in office. Sad but true. I don’t know what to do. I want to have sex. I deserve that. I have to wonder what act of God would it take for me to find a lover. I’m trying not to be melancholy about it but the thought of spending the spring alone, celibate, is making me depressed.

Contemplating going Pro

I’ve been in the lifestyle for many years. I’ve spent a great deal of time perfecting my craft, honing my skills, defining my brand of domination and becoming really comfortable with it. I retired, mainly because of boredom, mainly because I was looking for a vanilla relationship with a brotha that doesn’t seem to exist. I’m out of retirement, not because I was bored with the vanilla lifestyle, only because I haven’t found the partner of my dreams. I’ve never taken money for my domination because I have never wanted a white man to feel as if he’s purchasing me, that I have to conform to his fantasies.

The opportunity to join a dungeon and become a pro has presented itself and I’m really unsure of how to proceed. On one hand, I think becoming a pro will eliminate a lot of needless communication. I have no interest in cyber domination; I have absolutely no interest in prolonged emails and excessive chatting. If I’m a Pro, I advertise on pro sites, describe my brand of domination, if a sub wants to pluck down the money for my services, then he does. If he doesn’t, he moves on.

I’m not sure about the legality of my particular brand of domination. I’m going to have to do some research. I know that the bisexual servitude that I require would be considered illegal. I would have to imagine that my particular brand of strapon domination would be considered illegal as well. I’m not at all interested in breaking the law, especially to satisfy the desires of some white dude, but I’m also aware that just spanking some dude, no matter how painfully, is not who I am as a Domme. I’m really not going to pay to give showers. I can see it now, the second my book comes out, the line of white men lining up to say that they paid me to shit on them would be lined up around the FOX News studios, whether I had or not.

I know it also exposes me to the psycho stalkers who are obsessed with me. The dungeon will have security and a screening process but I don’t think that will stop the twisted fucks who think they are in love with me because of some story they read, or they commissioned me to write for them, from having access to me. That creeps me out. On the other hand, I don’t think it’s anything wrong with profiting from my skill set. I am an exceptional Domme. I’m not a woman pretending to be dominant to make money. I’m not a woman who is trying to feel empowered to compensate for some childhood issues or who is taking out her frustrations on men. I know I have a large following because of my writing and that has value. It’s something that I will have to give great consideration.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Interracial Domination Broken Down in Black and White

It seems that all my work, all my efforts, all my time and energy trying to educate and enlighten white people is nothing but a waste of time. All the time that I take to construct stories where people of color are shown as multi-dimensional, complex, well-rounded HUMAN BEINGS is futile if all white people get is that I’m promoting some sort of Black sexual superiority. Time and time again, white people write me and compare my work to the most outrageous, degrading, stereotypical, offensive interracial websites imaginable and, not surprisingly, get offended and arrogant when I point that fact out. I do NOT use the N word in any of my stories. I do not think it’s flattering, a compliment, or the meaning of the word has changed. I will not tolerate any white person (or Black person for that matter) using the word with me or suggesting that they know better than I what the real meaning of the word is. Black people in my stories are masterful in every sense of the word but not merely because they have Black skin but because they are intellectually, mentally, spiritually, psychologically, culturally, and emotionally more evolved. I’ve never implied that ALL Black people possess such characteristics (oh, but I long for the day we do) only the characters in my stories.

I don’t even write about the concept of Black supremacy, intellectually or erotically. I believe that Africans were, prior to our enslavement, UNQUESTIONABLY, ethically and morally, more evolved than white people. It’s a point that can’t even be argued. Any race of people that would slaughter, kidnap, brand, torture, and enslave another race of people simple because of their skin tone is clearly morally bankrupt. As to the lame arguments that Africans enslaved other Africans, and it was Africans who sold their brothers into slavery, those distortions and lies are the fairy tales of white people who refuse to accept responsibility, accountability, or blame for the actions of their warped ancestors.

Slavery in African wasn’t race based. It was also not inhumane. If and when Africans engaged in war with another community, the resulting slavery was not that of chattle slavery where individuals lost their rights as human beings. They could retain their names, their families would stay in tact, they could marry and practice their own religions, they were not treated as objects. Clearly they were not ridiculed for their hair, facial features, or bodies because they possessed the exact same physical characteristics of their captors. Africans who had engaged in the trade of human beings with Europeans could have no earthly idea that they were participating in the dehumanization of their brothers and sisters. White people perpetuate that falsehood because they want to appear innocent in their transgressions. It would be akin to a recruiter today getting commission to recruit people to work overseas during this bad economy only to find out that they were essentially selling people into unspeakable conditions. Once Africans on the continent learned of the hellish, nightmarish, disgusting fates that befell their sisters and brothers, they rebelled, and were often captured and enslaved themselves. I’ve said time and time again however that our greatness as a people and race has been diminished and stifled by slavery and that if we are ever to return to our greatness as a people, that it will take nothing short of a miracle to erase the centuries of brainwashing that we have endured. Even then, if and when we assume our true role in the universe, our skills, talents, and abilities should be celebrated as different, not superior.

I have never written about the concept of “getting back” at white people for slavery. It can’t be done. To enslave white people and inflict similar punishment on them is probably the most vile and horrific concept I’ve ever heard of. To assume the role of our oppressor is not to exact revenge for the millions of men, women, and children whose lives were destroyed by slavery, racism, discrimination, oppression, and bigotry. We can not claim superiority and then act as lowly, evil, and immoral as white people. There is no tit for tat, not quid pro quo, no act or acts that can be done to restore the world to the way it was supposed to be had Africans not been enslaved. I DO however write about white people experiencing what it is to be a slave. White people want to sanitize the experience, to make slavery into some Dixieland/Mark Twain fantasy where “it wasn’t so bad” for slaves and I allow them with my work to see exactly what Africans who were enslaved felt. I work diligently to dismantle the delusion that white people have that their sexual servitude is in any way akin to that of the slavery that my ancestors endured that was far from a sexual fetish. That’s VASTLY different than saying that I’m getting back at white people for slavery. Again, it can’t be done.

It seems I have to spell out the lessons to be learned by white people in each of my interracial domination stories.

1. Black Beat: Tracy was a Black woman in a relationship with a white man. They were a couple, a loving couple in fact. Rick desired extreme racial domination with more extreme and cruel punishments. Tracy wasn’t capable of it because she wasn’t secure in her own sense of self as a Black woman. She’d been conditioned by society to see white men as superior so she could barely do more than a light spanking or playful slaps to her partner. It wasn’t until she met Mistress Khadijah (meaning premature daughter) that she became empowered enough to explore her mate’s more masochistic desires.

2. Black Maled (Or Blackmailed on some sites): Ron and Tricia were arrogant, oblivious, perverse, and they objectified Black sexuality. They only saw Black people as objects to satisfy their racist desires. They had no human consideration for Black people other than fodder for their submissive sexual fantasies. Kamal (meaning perfection) was bright, intelligent, articulate, well-read, culturally identified, and wanted nothing to do with playing the Mandingo buck. (For the real definition of Mandingo ) He used Ron and Tricia’s perverse lust for him to his advantage and was able to secure a position at work he rightfully deserved.

3. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: It seems apparent to me that the story describes a celebration of Black women who were the victims of institutional racism from insurance companies. The policies of many companies and the people who administer those policies carry with them a great many biases and prejudices. This story was an attempt to show that the kink community could acknowledge that discrimination and contribute to the betterment of Black women while having fun at the same time.
4. Dominant Black Tales and Submissive White Tails: My most popular story and certainly the longest. This story chronicles the evolution of a white man who goes from online fantasies to real time experience and how he tries desperately to hold on to the fallacy of white supremacy every step of the way. Desiree and Derrick are more intelligent, more attractive, and more in tune with their sexuality than Bryan and Becky. The powerful couple masterfully orchestrate and manipulate the white couple. They are superior in that they are more sophisticated, more adept at psycho-sexual torture. They are clearly more than lust-driven ghetto dwellers. Their characters drive the plot; they don’t just act as fillers for white lustful fantasies.

5. Goddess Initiation: This has to be one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written. It’s a story about a secret society of Black people who are trying to restore African ceremonies, traditions, and rituals to their spiritual and cultural practices. They place the woman as Goddess and the men are not inferior, they are protectors and guides. The sole white man in this story is merely there to observe their ritual. He acts as an object in this story, a receptacle for the sperm of the 15 men (or was it 20, I forget). It doesn’t even matter. It shows how Black people can take something like a gangbang that white people would partake in as vulgar and crass and transform it into something spiritual and holy like a Goddess Initiation.

6. Hotel Bonaventure: Steven, the white character, never gets what he wants in this story. Theresa and Carl skillfully play him, making him orally satisfy Carl while not being allowed to touch or taste Theresa. Again, it seems obvious to me that Steven is not made to suck Carl’s dick because it is humiliating and degrading, but its an honor. Steven is the one driven by his lusts, his compulsions, not the Black couple.

7. Jungle Fever: I’ve written extensively already about the social issues of this story. It’s not truly a tale of domination but rather it’s the story of how white people’s racism and obliviousness drive them to act out sexually and it also details exactly how Black men can get sucked up in the hysteria of believing that white women are better and that they are sexual studs simply because of the color of their skin.

8. Neighborly Hospitality: It’s not really a story of domination but it explores the cuckold fetish. Syreeta and Dixon were two highly successful, sexually aware individuals who happened to be Black and who happened to move in next door to a sexually dysfunctional couple, Lisa and Brad. Because Lisa and Brad didn’t talk about their fantasies with each other, because they weren’t open and honest with each other about their sexual issues, it was easy for Dixon and Syreeta to use those things to their advantage. The typical cuckold story doesn’t include a Black woman. This story is woven around the Black woman and her approval and orchestration of the events. The typical cuckold story doesn’t show the lives and backgrounds of the Black man, this story shows Dixon to be an epicure, a jazz lover, a cultural powerhouse, and a LOVING partner to his mate.

9. Plantation Lullabies. This was originally supposed to be a 1250 word story written for a client. It ended up almost 7000 words and what I consider to be one of the most powerful pieces I’ve ever written. The words poured through me and I was awed by how they were being transcribed at my fingertips. It is about replicating the true slave experience, just as the fake website indicates. It’s not about getting back at whitey for slavery. It’s not about proclaiming Black supremacy. Just as the concentration camps at Auschwitz today allow people to see what it was to be a Jew in Nazi Germany, the fictitious plantation on Dewees Island in South Carolina ( )was created to allow white people to see and experience what it was like to be an African who was enslaved. It is a living museum; it is a classroom like none other. At no point does Mistress Emmanuel ever say she is getting back at white people for slavery. She is breaking white men of the notion that slavery is something voluntary, she is divesting them of the false and offensive concept that sexual slavery is in any way comparable to what real slaves had to endure.

10. The Making of a White Sissy Slut: If there was ever a story written to illustrate how a Black woman can use and discard a white man like a piece of trash, this is it. White people assume that because I write stories to show Black people in a positive light, that automatically assumes that I have some responsibility to show white people in a positive light as well. My job is to hold white people up to the mirror of racism and make them see their ugly reflections. My job is to show white people that Black people are more than just one-dimensional savages. If this story were written about two white people, the Female Dominatrix would be considered the quintessential Domme. Black women are allowed to be sexually dominant without that being ALL they are allowed to be. We can enjoy our power as women, as Black women, and enjoy D/s kink as much as any other woman without that being our sole identity. We can be masterful and sadistic in the bedroom and be vulnerable, sensitive, empathetic, compassionate, and very humanly flawed outside the bedroom.

11. Black Daddy Domination: I’m not even sure it’s worth identify the glaring social issues of this story because white people aren’t going to get it even if I do. All they will read is the white man worshipping the superior black cock.

I don’t see the reason for even writing interracial domination stories anymore if white people can’t grasp the social commentary that seems blatantly and painfully obvious.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Anal Ramblings

I am to be counted among the women that love anal sex. I remember when I was a teen and I found my mom's collection of porn, I was fascinated with the pictures of anal sex. I don't know if that influenced my desire or was a premonition of my proclivities. When I got to college I was preoccupied with trying to make sense of my bisexuality so anal sex got put on the back burner for a while. When the urge hit me, it hit strong. I thought about it all the time and didn't really know what to do about it. I would try to wiggle and moan more when my boyfriend's fingers got close to that area but I never asked him to do anything. I don't even think I was bright enough to finger myself there at the time.

I asked my boyfriend at the time to try it. He wasn't interested; he kept saying, "that's gay, I don't want to try it." (It was the 80s, anal sex wasn’t popular back then) The very first time we tried it, I was on top and in control of everything. I went slowly, I think the curiosity kept me going more than anything. I was fascinated with wanting to feel it. It was uncomfortable, not painful. The discomfort didn't last long and it soon became a sensation like I'd never felt before. The only way I can describe it was it was like not being able to take a deep breath. It was pleasure in every pore of my body. The very first time I did it, it felt orgasmic. I didn't cum, I didn't even know how to cum at that point in my life. I got scared and stopped and my poor boyfriend at the time thought he had hurt me. We didn't do it for more than a year after that because he said he didn't like it but I wanted to feel it again. I started masturbating by myself at the time with something I'm sure was unsafe. If I remember correctly, it was some sort of arts and crafts glue stick.

After about a year, my boyfriend and I tried it again. I loved it even more. We would save it for special occasions and he took his time every time so by the time we got to it, I was like a crazy woman. When we broke up, he made me promise and swear that I wouldn't do it with anyone else ever again in life and I kept that promise for many, many years. Many years later, during what was the beginning of my life of sporadic celibacy, I would masturbate every day and stimulate myself anally. I couldn't cum without it. For a year I think I did it once a day. Then I went into my phase of not masturbating at all. Went through that for almost three years. Now, on the rare occasion that I have sex, I try to get my partner to finger or lick me there, but its so rare that I am with someone at all, and even then it's not someone that I can let down my guard with.

Few years back, if I wanted to masturbate, I would have fantasies about anal sex. I wouldn't penetrate or stimulate myself there, just think about it. I would watch anal sex porn almost exclusively. Now, I rarely masturbate at all, three or four times a year. I think about what it would be like but the sensation is so distant in my memory that it doesn't motivate me at all anymore. I love to fantasize about what it would be like when I find my twin flame and experiencing it with him, but the fantasy is more about seducing him, teasing him with the idea of it, making him crave my ass, more than about anal sex in particular.

I have used a strapon on men and I love it. It's not about power; it's about giving pleasure. There is something intensely erotic and intimate about seeing a lover in the throes of ecstasy. Hearing him moan and beg for more . . . that is SUCH a turn on for me. I'm not into giving pain so if there is even any indication of discomfort on his part, my hypothetical dick goes down. For me, it's about him sharing a part of himself with me that is secret and private. It's our little secret. When I'm hitting that Gspot and he's working his ass on my "dick", it's like no other sensation in the world. It's not about domination for me.

Sometimes, I occasionally fantasize about making love to my partner in the same way that he would make love to me, slow and tender and gentle, as an act of us showing our love for one another. Ever since I first tried it almost 18 years ago, I have never thought anal sex had anything to do with being gay. The physical anatomy of a man and a woman is the same anally; if a woman is able to enjoy it then a man has the same thing. In fact, a man has a prostate gland, which makes it more enjoyable for him than a woman. (I suspect that I have something similar to a prostate however because I even like to have my pussy fingered towards the back, not the front where my g spot is supposed to be) Sexual preference is sexual preference, either you are attracted to men or you aren't. If you are attracted to women, then a woman should be able to help you experience that level of intimacy and pleasure.

Two interesting notes. One, I can't tell you how many brothas have expressed to me that they want to be penetrated by their wives but they are afraid to ask. Women, talk to your men because their desire to experience it and their fear of talking about it might drive them to engage in unsafe sex in shame and desperation. These aren't feminine men, submissive men, or confused men. I get brothas every day tell me that they would like me to write a strapon fantasy but and that they can’t find a sista to do it to them. When I ask them how many sistas they have asked, they usually say. none

Two, I suspect that the need to experience the sensation of anal penetration has a lot to do with opening up channels for kundalini to flow up the chakras. I'm completely convinced that those dastardly Europeans were made aware of the spiritual potential anal sex held and made it a sin so that the masses would not be able to tap into it's power. I'm not at all suggesting that everyone that has anal sex is more spiritually aware. Sex has become so crass and base that it's spiritual elements have been dormant for centuries.

Friday, April 10, 2009


I'm going to copy and paste it EXACTLY the way it was sent to me. Nothing changed, edited, or deleted.

servilebych on 4/8/09 at 9:51 PM:

Good Evening,

Thank You for the time it took to read my humble message. i am an inferior white man and i acknowledge my weakness and the unfair and unrealistic "advantages" society has thrust upon my inferior person. i want to make up for them and learn my true place in life. i feel the only way to do this is to offer myself to be humbled and degraded by a Goddess like Yourself who understands my true place which is at the foot of African Gods and Goddesses. Is there anyway You might allow this inferior creature to worship You and serve You as Your slave?



servilebych on 4/8/09 at 10:32 PM:

Im reading Your wonderful blog and learning a great deal. Thank You.

servilebych on 4/10/09 at 2:16 PM:

After reading your blog and other information about you Ive come to the conclusion that you are the white men you write about. It is you that has these fantasies. You also seem to blame just about everything on slavery. You say the President is not liberal enough for you. Would you prefer to transfer all the wealth from whites to blacks? Maybe even live in a communist society? If Blacks are as superior as you say they are they shouldnt want nor should they need the help of the Federal Government. Most of the peopple you say have an unfair advantage got there either because of their own hard work or from the hard work of their ancestors. Many people who currently live in the US came here AFTER slavery ended. If you know anything about American history you realize that there was a huge wave of immigration after the Civil War. You would also realize that only 1/3 of the people in the Antebellum South actually owned slaves. Maybe this is why it is so hard to find Americans whose ancestors owned slaves. If you are angry because other races and or ethnicities complain of mistreatment or prejudice you should study world history. The Jews in Russia were not only oppressed but they were killed on a large scale in pogroms. Of course you are also familiar with the Holocaust, maybe the Irish famine? Your people are not the only ones who have suffered. You seem to be the only ones who whine continually about it. Maybe you should read Thomas Sowell or Walter Williams, 2 African American authors/economists who refuse use excuses. Perhaps you should talk to all the African American males who abandon their wives and kids. Im sure you would find a way to blame that on slavery too. The point is that after awhile, you have to start taking responsibility for your own actions.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Whose ancestors DID own slaves?

In every conversation I've ever had about race in my life, and that's been quite a few given my political and social leanings, I've yet to meet ONE white person that has said to me, "Yes, my ancestors owned and profited from slaves." I’m beginning to think that white people only know how to say, “MY family didn’t own slaves.” Well . . . I’ll be god damned, somebody’s family had to own slaves. Where are those descendents?

If I use the barometer of white people’s assertions, slavery didn't exist at all and it played no role in making the US the richest nation in the world. Apparently, the youngest and most violent nation is the richest because it's inhabited by intellectually superior white men not because they stole the land, its resources, and enslaved free labor.

Then there’s the ever popular, "My ancestors were (fill in the blank with some obscure ethnicity), they were immigrants that arrived after slavery, and they were discriminated against too." Which is in essence saying, “My ancestors endured the exact same thing as slaves and they were able to make it.” Which again is saying, “Blacks are just inherently lazy because if my ancestors were able to not speak the language, open a store, become successful, anyone can.” Let’s not take into account that Black people were denied the right to read and write for generations, that they were treated as sub human for 100s of years, that they were beaten, raped, bought sold, tortured, and brutalized for generation after generation. That has NOTHING whatsoever to do with our current standing, that’s just an unfortunate and uncomfortable fact that needs to be dismissed so that white people don’t have to think about the fact that the playing field isn’t really level as long as they don’t share the same history.

Apparently, slavery has no long term effects whatsoever. “Color doesn’t matter, slavery was in the past, let it go.” What conversation about slavery would be complete without white people saying, “Jews suffered during the Holocaust and look at how well they are doing today.” Sure, Jews were imprisoned for 7 years, not enslaved for generations so of course the effects would be vastly different. I'm not interested in comparative "Oppression Olympics" or proving that anyone suffered more or less than anyone else. I would like someone to stand up and say, my family had money passed down generationally that was the direct result of owning slaves.

I wonder what happened to the descendents of slave owners because they certainly don't exist anymore. They must have all evaporated into thin air at the end of the civil war. I would love to have someone say to me, my family didn't own slaves, but they did benefit by using the cheap labor of Blacks during the depression. Or my family was known to traffic in the illegal slave trade after slavery was abolished or some other such shocking revelation. Fuck that. Where are the white people who can say, “Hell, I benefited from slavery because my family didn’t have it as bad as Black families did, pure and simple.” It’s incomprehensible to almost every white person under the sun that NOT being the victim of racism, bigotry, oppression, lynching, and discrimination is a benefit. I had one white man write a three page letter telling me that the poverty stricken white people of the Appalachian Mountain region were the ONLY descendants of slave owners alive because slave owners were stupid and poor and they didn't survive after the Civil War. He seriously believed that.

Fuck that, how about a white person just admitting to me that they have no clue as to the extent of what the psychological damage to enslaved Black people was nor do they understand what its ramifications are today.