His Lordship's Apprentice

This is my 'H' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

Buy it now! Even if you have it already. Because, you know, that would make me happy.

This is a very short and sweet post. You may even call it 'hastily cobbled together' if you were feeling uncharitable.

But, blimey, this writing a blog post every day is a bit of a challenge. Especially if you are as disorganised as I am. And, yes, I know I can skip a couple of days what with there being more days in June than there are letters of the alphabet, but hey as today's letter is 'H' and one of my books starts with the letter 'H', I figure I can just bung in an excerpt from said book and consider the job done.

So here you go, enjoy a nice long snippet from my very first spanky romance novel, His Lordship's Apprentice.

There's no sex or spanking in this excerpt but I am rather fond of this bit. His Lordship's Apprentice is basically a Cinderella story. The heroine, Violet Plover starts off as an impoverished scullery maid who nevertheless secures the admiration of her titled employer, Lord Hardcastle. Her life is transformed when she becomes the onstage assistant for Lord Hardcastle's successful magic act. And later, despite her incredibly humble origins, his cherished wife. (I would have put a spoiler warning in there, but, hey, I think it's fairly obvious from the start where our heroes' story is headed.)

This scene takes place immediately after Violet has accepted Lord Hardcastle's offer of working with him onstage as his assistant. Their first task as theatrical colleagues is to go and see the popular Victorian magic act, Maskelyne and Cooke that very evening.

Attending the theatre with a member of the nobility presents a sartorial challenge for a young girl with a limited wardrobe. If only she had a Fairy Godmother to help her out.

Violet stood on tiptoes, trying to see enough of herself in the small oval mirror on her bedroom wall to decide if her attire was suitable for a night at the theatre. Not that it would matter if it wasn’t, she thought glumly. She only had one dress to wear which wasn’t a maid’s uniform. Her simple blue dress had seemed pretty enough at the Spring Fair but she knew it wasn’t really smart enough for an evening spent in the company of a Lord. 

She had polished her boots so that they gleamed but they were still practical leather boots designed for working. She had been excited by Lord Hardcastle’s offer to take her to the Egyptian Hall, but looking at her limited wardrobe made Violet think that the whole idea was hopeless.

There was a sharp knock on the door and in walked Mrs Davenport, the Housekeeper. Violet would admit to be slightly frightened of Mrs Davenport. She was always brusque with the girls and brooked no nonsense while the maids were on duty. 

“I hear you are attending the theatre with his Lordship tonight.” She looked Violet up and down. “This won’t do.” 

Could she stop me attending? thought Violet, panicked. She didn’t think so but she would have no idea what to say to Mrs Davenport if she tried. 

“I could have done with a bit more notice,” Mrs Davenport continued. “Like as not his Lordship would have been happy to buy you a gown suitable but there’s no time now. Still I’ve brought a few things as might help.” She placed some items on Violet’s bed. There was a delicate shawl, some shoes and a silver comb decorated with sparkling jewels that Violet suspected might be sapphires. “These were given to me by his  mother, Lady Hardcastle as was, when I was her lady’s maid. God rest her soul. I doubt they’re much the fashion now but you may as well borrow them. Lord knows, I have little chance to use ‘em.” She passed the shoes to Violet. They were kidskin leather with silk ribbons. “Put these on. They’ll do better than them boots you’re wearing.” 

Violet tried the shoes on eagerly. They were a little large but not so anyone would notice. She felt more elegant already. 

Mrs Davenport draped the shawl around Violet’s shoulders. It was made of a thin silver fabric which complimented the blue of her dress nicely. 

“Now let’s sort your hair out,” said Mrs Davenport undoing the plait that Violet had fastened in her hair earlier. She brushed through Violet’s hair and then with nimble fingers styled it into an elegant chignon which she secured with the silver comb. 

Mrs Davenport took a step back and looked at Violet critically. “Well you’ll not be fooling anyone you’re a Duchess, that’s for sure. Still, you’re certainly pretty enough and that covers a multitude of sins.” 

“Thank you so much, Mrs Davenport,” said Violet “This was very kind of you.”

“Hmmph.” said Mrs Davenport. “Well you’d best not keep his Lordship waiting.”

His Lordship's Apprentice is available from the following retailers:

Blushing Books

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Barnes & Noble

Gags

This is my 'G' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

When it comes to kinky activities, I'd like to think that I am open-minded and up for trying new stuff. (In fact when it comes to any activities, I'd like to think that I'm up for trying new stuff.)

The fact remains, though that I really do only have one very specific kink that occupies at least 90% of my thoughts at any given time. I just really, really like being hit on the arse with stuff.

I'm quite fond of bondage. Especially rope. It's something I would like to have the chance to explore further. But generally almost all of the kinky explorations I have undertaken over the last six months have involved finding exciting new things to be hit on the arse with. Sure, we can try other stuff. But won't that just cut into our spanking time?

There are a few things that I definitely don't want to try. Knife play is out. As is fire play. And I am not OK with any kind of playing in a public place. Outside of that, anything's up for discussion.

Which brings us on to gags. I haven't been gagged before but it is something that I would be willing to explore with a partner that I trusted.

The thing is, gags really scare me. I have been trying to work out my feelings behind this. Why am I OK with the idea of someone tying me up to the extent that I am completely at their mercy, yet the idea of having my mouth put out of action freaks me out?

I think, the answer lies in how I would feel if I were in a real-life dangerous situation. Say if I were kidnapped and being held hostage, the idea that being unable to speak would somehow be more dangerous than not being able to move. I don't rate my chances of being able to run away very fast. My chances of overcoming anyone in a fight are pretty much nil. At some level, I think that my best weapon in a dangerous situation would be the ability to talk my way out of it.

I hope I never get the chance to put this - frankly pretty shaky - hypothesis to the test. I do think that it goes some way to explaining my fear of gags though. If I'm gagged then I'm robbed of my ability to talk, I'm robbed of my use of language. This is far more incapacitating to me than being physically restrained.

You can tie me up; you can spank me; you can cane me; you can leave my backside covered in bruises and welts. And, quite frankly I wish you would. But try and shut me up for five minutes? That might be a challenge.

Find The Words Among All The Other Letters Type Puzzle Thing!

This is my 'F' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

Yeah, I know I could have waited until W day and used the rather more elegant title 'Wordsearch' but you know what, I am too damn excited to wait!

Because today, my lovely readers and I am sharing with you the most awesome and amazing word search puzzle YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. Guaranteed.

Click to get a bigger version

Inspired by Fiesta's wordsearch puzzle mention in my Convenience Store Pornography post the other day, I decided to create one of my own.

That little (well, massive) beauty up there contains the names of the ALL the bloggers taking part in the A to Z Spanking Challenge.

Not only that but it also contains the names of ten different types of spanking implements AND the word 'spanking' ten times because, well, it is my favourite word you know.

If any of you actual want to tackle this monstrous beast of a wordsearch puzzle, click on the image above to see a bigger version, then print it out and have at it with  highlighters.  Or if you would like me to email you a copy, let me know at ettastark@hotmail.com. If you send me your postal address, I'll even post you a copy because no-one gets any fun post these days.

Any completed puzzles received will definitely result in AWESOME PRIZES for the lucky winner. I'll give you until the end of July to send your results in because I know we're all super busy this month.

(Quick note: If you get a result that seems almost - but not entirely - correct, then that's probably right. I am fairly slipshod about these things)

Here's the full list of the names and words to search for:

A Little Bit of Naughty
ABC challenge
All Things Spanking
Anastasia Vitsky
Ashe Barker
Blondies Blog
Blushing Books
Bree Cariad
Bryony Kildare
Cara Bristol
Casey McKay
Celeste Jones
Classical Marriage in a Modern World
Corbins Bend
Corinne Alexander
Courage Knight
David S. Holly
Disciplined Behaviour
Erzabets Enchantments
Etta Stark
Felicity Nichols Reviews
Helen Karol
Holla Dean
Incessantly Spanked
Jami Denise
Jaye Peaches
Joelle Casteel
Kayla Lords
Kelly Dawson
Kira Barcelo
Leigh Smith
Livia Grant
Maddie Taylor
Maggie Ryan
Measha Stone
Megan Michaels
Morganna Williams
My journey into submission
Ravyn Rayne
Rayanna Jamison
Renee Rose
Ruth Staunton
Stevie MacFarlane
Sue Lyndon
Tabitha Black
Tabitha Black
The Cover Artisan
Vagina Antics

Belt

Cane

Hairbrush

Paddle

Riding Crop

Ruler

Sjambok

Tawse

Whip

Wooden Spoon

And of course, ALL the spankings!

East End Girl

This is my 'E' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

E is for Etta! E is for East End Girl! You have to buy this book

The title of my Corbin's Bend book East End Girl refers to the East End of London. I was determined that if I was going to write a story set in Colorado with a whole bunch of American characters, I was at least going to make life easy for myself by making my heroine English.

You're all aware of Eastenders, I take it? It's one of the two most popular soap operas in the UK. Eastenders and Coronation Street (set in, you know, The North somewhere) battle against one another furiously during the annual soap awards. There's probably fisticuffs.

"You can't tell me what to do, you ain't my muvver!"

"Yes, I am!"

That's the world where our heroine, Kirsty, comes from. Although with fewer explosions in her life, hopefully. I always suspect that Americans consider all British people to be super-posh types who talk like Mary Poppins*. I wanted to create a heroine who was the antithesis of that. In fact, during the course of the story, Kirsty's late father's decidedly criminal career path comes back to haunt her.

There was a man standing by a parked car just outside the shop. Kirsty didn’t immediately recognize him but thought he looked both familiar to her and wrong in the current setting. 

He looked about fifty, wore a large overcoat and had short black hair shaved at the sides. When he saw Kirsty his face broke into a smile. It wasn’t a friendly smile. He looked like a predator about to attack. 

“Well, well, well. Little Kirsty Beale. I’d heard you’d moved out this way. I want a word with you about your old man.” 

As soon as she heard the man’s east London accent, Kirsty recognized him. Jack Catch a ‘business’ associate of her late father’s. No wonder he looked out of place in their current location. She had only ever seen him in her dad’s flat back home. There he would arrive with stolen goods for her dad to fence and a negotiation style that was always vaguely threatening even when he was pretending to be friendly. 

“What are you doing here, Jack?” she asked. 

“That’d be Mr. Catch to you. Anyway, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m just passing through. Had some business to attend to in Denver and someone told me you’d move to this little pervert village nearby and I thought ought to come and say ‘hello’.” 

“You’ve just come to say ’hello’?” Kirsty asked. 

“Nah. Don’t be daft. Like I said, I want a word with you about your dad. Me and Vince had some unfinished business when he snuffed it. He was looking after some money for me.” 

“Was he now?” Kirsty stiffened. She had no idea where all the money in her dad’s bank account had come from but she wasn’t about to let her uncertainty be apparent to Jack Catch. 

“We’d just done a job, me and the boys and Vince was selling on the goods. Didn’t have a chance to give us our cut did he before he croaked it. So I’m here to collect.” 

“Bollocks is it yours. You’d have asked for it a fuck of a sight quicker if it had been. You’d have shown up before Dad’s body had even gone cold.” 

Jack strode forward and grabbed Kirsty’s neck. “I don’t like your fucking tone, miss,” he said sharply. “Don’t they beat women in this place? Isn’t that what it’s all about? How about my boys here give you a beating you won’t forget in a hurry, see if that makes you a little bit more cooperative?”

Although Kirsty misses her London life (dodgy criminal acquaintances of her late father notwithstanding), she totally learns to love her life in Corbin's Bend. It takes a while and it definitely involves some spankings but she gets there in the end.

* I'm not from the East End of London, incidentally. I live in Surrey** and I do sound a bit like Mary Poppins. Please don't let that get in the way of any kind of point I was trying to make.

** I think Surrey is only really internationally famous for being the place where Harry Potter's uncle and aunt lived***

*** They didn't shoot those scenes for the movie in Surrey, by the way. Outside shots for the Dursley residence were shot in Berkshire. I know this because it was just down the road from my friend's house. When she told us they were shooting the Harry Potter film in the next street, we were all "Oh my god! That's so exciting." Then she said it was for the Dursley's house. Cue lots of lacklustre "Um, that's still good" responses.. 

Note: This book is now available as part of the Box Set Return to Corbin's Bend

Domestic Service

This is my 'D' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

Violet Plover, the heroine of my first book His Lordship's Apprentice, is a scullery maid at the home of our hero, Lord Hardcastle. She is far older than most scullery maids actually would have been at the end of the nineteenth century. Most girls in service started as children and scullery maid was very much the bottom-most rung in the hierarchy of servants. I had to tweak the story a bit to ensure that she could hold this lowly position while still being old enough to take part in the sort of things required in a spanky erotic romance.

Just your everyday story of  a scullery maid who lucks out to an extraordinary degree.

In 1891, one in three women between the ages of fifteen and twenty were employed in domestic service. Violet had a far better time of it than her real-life counterparts, progressing quickly from scullery maid to parlour maid to onstage magician's assistant to Lord Hardcastle's alter ego "The Marvellous Marvelo". Do things between Violet and her sexy, titled boss progress further still? (Spoiler: Yes. Of course they do.)

The following scene takes place near the beginning the story. Following an unfortunate incident in the dining room involving an escaped dove and a lot of bad language, Violet has been summoned to Lord Hardcastle's study. Nobility such as Lord Hardcastle wouldn't normally be involved in the hiring and firing of lowly domestic staff. Violet has no idea what to expect from this encounter. But, hey, this is a spanky romance. You can probably guess how it's going to pan out.

Lord Hardcastle turned to Violet. “Very well,” he said. “To business. I understand that you have been in my service for two months.” 

“Yes, my Lord” Violet replied. Her nervousness rendered her throat so dry that she could barely speak at all. Was that a sufficient response she wondered? Should one provide more information when addressing a lord or speak as little as possible? She honestly had no idea. Much as she had been warned that Lord Hardcastle was highly irregular compared to other men of his station, she hadn’t imagined that a scullery maid such as herself would have to interact with his Lordship face to face. Certainly not this soon.

Ah well, Violet reasoned, it hardly mattered. She fully expected to be fired without a reference and doubted she would need to interact with the nobility again.

“Well, Violet,” continued Lord Hardcastle, oblivious to Violet’s internal panic. “Firstly, I want to thank you for the swift way you dealt with my escaped dove. I should not have left her on the table like that and it was understandable that you disturbed her. You dealt with the recapture very professionally. I was impressed. She is a trained bird and very valuable. I should have hated to see her injured or upset. Thank you.” 

Violet stared at Lord Hardcastle in shock. This was not what she had anticipated. 

“However,” Lord Hardcastle continued. “There are standards of behaviour – and of course language – we uphold to in this house. I reserve the right to entertain visitors in my own home without them being subjected to the kind of words that would shock a sailor.” 

Violet’s heart sank once more. “I am very sorry, my Lord” she mumbled. 

“I am sure you are,” responded Lord Hardcastle. “I am also sure you are a valuable member of staff here. I have no desire to terminate your employment over this incident. However, you will be punished.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“I’ll offer you the choice, Violet. Either you can forfeit a day’s wages or submit to a spanking.” 

Violet’s head was a confusion of different emotions. While she was elated that she still had a job, she was truly terrified at the prospect of being physically punished by Lord Hardcastle. She knew she didn’t have a choice. She could not afford to lose a day’s wages; her family were relying on her. 

“I will take the spanking, my Lord.”

Domestic servants are usually the bit-players in books. Historical romances normally focus on the lives, loves and, hopefully spankings, of the nobility.

However, there are some great examples of books where the domestic staff get the chance to enjoy sex and/or romance with their employers out there. Below are three of my favourites.

Geneva DeCroix's The Lady's Maid (which annoyingly, now seems to be only available to purchase separately as single chapters rather than the complete book that I bought) follows the story of Jesslina who accepts the post as a Lady's Maid to the wife of Lord Piers. Lord Piers household is a veritable orgy of sex and sexy violence. Everyone fucks and spanks everyone, it seems. The story starts with Jesslina receiving a harsh spanking from Lord Piers, but soon she's watching the male servants being beaten and buggered by the butler and happily administering punishments to the mistress herself. Honestly, they're all at it.

Utter filth. In a good way.

Maren Smith's Angel of Hawkhaven is an altogether more romantic affair. Ella Rayette is down on her luck following the death of her debt-ridden father and forced to work in a tavern where she is rescued from a savage beating from her boss by a mysterious 'angel'. She promptly steals his watch because, hey, a girl's got to get by somehow. Awkwardly, when she procures a new position as lady's maid to a difficult and demanding woman with a severe disability, she discovers that her new boss - the lady's brother  - is none other than her 'angel', Matthew Hawkhaven. It's a wonderful and unexpectedly moving story in which Ella struggles to prove herself in her new position while battling the conflicting feelings she feels towards the Master of the house.

Beautifully written historical romance

And for absolute, adorable romance, look no further than Renee Rose's Pleasing the Colonel. Our heroine Amanda Downy has been employed as a governess to the children of widowed Colonel Watson. As a governess, Amanda is not really one of the servant classes. Nor, of course, is she one of the family. Governesses occupied a sort of limbo between Upstairs and Downstairs. Although the sweet and believably written romance between Amanda and her employer means that she is certainly headed Upstairs. (And that sounded a lot more innuendo-y that I intended it.) This was one of the first books I read by Renee Rose and it is still one of my absolute favourites

"He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a leather strap." Mm.

If  you can recommend any books where domestic servants get to enjoy some sexy, spanky or romantic action, then please let me know in the comments. I do love a historical romance. Real life servants may have had a terrible time of it but, happily, their fictional erotic counterparts get to have a lot more fun.

Convenience Store Pornography

This is my 'C' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

I was astonished to realise recently that my local convenience store stocks a wide variety of 'top shelf' magazines. I'd assumed that sort of thing had died out at the end of the last millennium. Surely everyone gets their porn on the internet these days? There's something sweetly retro about buying one's wank-fodder in such a traditional format.

It's like Hedge Porn, the traditional method by which a pre-internet teenager would get his or her hands on pornography (and it was usually 'his', let's face it). You just never see that any more.

I imagine that convenience stores must have seen a sharp decline in income generated from selling porn mags in the last couple of decades. If people manage to find a way to smoke cigarettes or eat Ginsters' pasties online, then they'll probably all go out of business.

In the spirit of intrepid investigation I decided to go and buy a bunch of these magazines and then review them for you here. Because that's the kind of service I offer to my EttaStark.com readership.

First of all, I had to go and buy the things. There was a slight feeling of trepidation in doing so. In referring to these mags as "top shelf", you have to appreciate that they are exactly that. There are three shelves of "Woman's Own" and "TV Quick" and "Cosmopolitan" and the like below the above-eye-level display of suggestive ladies and their breasts. I knew I didn't want to grab a bunch of magazines at random and was going to need to do a certain amount of perusing in order to make my selection. I didn't want to be doing that while small children were checking out CBeebies or Sofia The First magazines on the bottom shelf.

So I skulked about a bit until all under-eighteens had left the premises and then made my selection. I favoured the kinkier titles in my purchases because - well, have you met me? But I also included a couple of more vanilla titles by way of a control.

The magazines I purchased were as follows:

• Fiesta Readers' Wives 
• Taboo
• Sordid
• Penthouse Forum
• Playboy

The perfect addition to any coffee table.

As it turns out, I wasn't embarrassed at all while the cashier was ringing up my impressively large porn purchase. I am so beyond that sort of thing these days, apparently.

So here you go, below are my reviews of five actual paper-based pornographic publications that I purchased with my bare hands from the little shop down the road.

Fiesta's Readers' Wives 

I started with this one because it looks like one of the most mainstream among my purchases. Along with Playboy naturally. But Fiesta doesn't have any of Playboy's pretensions of classiness. It's very much a tabloid sort of publication.

This particular edition came with a FREE '3 hour full-length sex DVD'. I haven't watched it.

The Unique Selling Point of Readers' Wives is that the reader (viewer?) gets the chance to appreciate ordinary-looking non-model types displaying their vaginas for the camera. I am not sure how far we can take Fiesta's word for the non-professional status of their models. Certainly Jodie from Cleethorpes seems to spend most of her photo session with an expression of "Have you taken the picture now or what?" which is instantly recognisable to any of us who hate having our photos taken.

Seriously, are we good now? Can I put my legs back down again?

I did appreciate the variety of body sizes included in the photo shoots. Jo from Cirencester is a big lady. She and I are probably the same dress size. Like Jo, I could turn one of my bras into a couple of hats without too much alteration. While I don't think that Fiesta are necessary leading the way in Women's Rights, it's nice to see a plus-size lady being paid a hundred quid for flashing her tits and minge for the camera.

What surprised me most about reading this magazine was, well, how magazine-y it was. I expected to it be wall-to-wall pictures of ladies displaying their vaginas. And while there was a lot of that sort of thing, the publishers also clearly felt obliged to include a bunch of other stuff.

Aside from 'Readers' Confessions' (apparently "All True!" though how Fiesta might go about determining that is a bit mind-boggling), there are letters pages, an agony aunt column, jokes, quizzes and even a word search puzzle. Seriously. It's like Take a Break but with more minge shots.

Honestly, darling. I just buy it for the puzzles.

Taboo

Taboo (not to be confused with the alcopop of the same name) is an altogether kinkier affair than Fiesta.

Pictured: kinkiness

I found myself a little underwhelmed by the content though. It ought to have been right up my alley, being stuffed full of photos of women being spanked and tortured and tied up with ropes and stuff. Actually, there's a lot of rope. It turns up in almost every almost every photoshoot. They're clearly very fond of rope at Taboo. The cover page even promises "Shibari Shooter Clover's Roped Reveries". I've perused the article that it refers to and you, know, those words still don't make any sense in that order.

Disappointingly, there's very little text between the the glossy photoshoots. And the text that you do get is all "Lexi is a pretty piece of meat who must accept her punishment" sub-par erotica. Where's my goddamn word search puzzle, eh?

It does contain some Handy Hints for easily transporting your naked lady, though.

Sordid

Subtitled "For those who like things just that little bit more kinky", Sordid features all kinds of bondage and sadomasochistic fun in its photoshoots. It provided much better reading than Taboo as well. Instead of sloppily written erotic gumph, we get proper interviews with the subjects of the photos. These actually seem surprisingly genuine. All the people involved seem to be fully involved in various aspects of the BDSM scene and are keen to share their experiences.

The cover lady, Ariel, is a model for the website Restrained Elegance and talks about how she got into bondage modelling. (By bribing the photographer with cake, apparently.)

In addition to demure Ariel up there, there's also Dominatrix Princess Jessika, an anonymous sissy cuckold and a female disciplinarian who specialises in spanking men. The latter has a website called Sarah Spanks Men. I should probably warn you against clicking any of the links I've included in this section. Obviously, none of them are suitable for work. I want to especially warn you about that last one though. The website design is hideous. It looks like it was designed by a twelve year old in 1995.

Seeing men getting spanked really isn't my cup of tea.
Mostly I was just fascinated by the creepy looking clown ornaments on the window sill.

This was the first of the magazines so far to depict proper erect penises. Actual penises going into actual orifices no less. I don't find that sort of thing terribly exciting. Penises in real life are grand, don't get me wrong. But pictures of people having sex? Meh.

What I find most surprising about both Taboo and Sordid is how absolutely filthily kinky they are for something that was easily available in my local corner shop. There was I thinking I was part of some exclusive group of perverts, that we were a small minority that most vanilla people wouldn't understand. When all the time there was clearly enough of a demand for this sort of stuff that it makes financial sense for small retailers to stock it in shops which primarily sell booze and snack foods and household items that people might run out of and need to buy in a hurry. I imagine that up and down the country, people are saying to their partners "We've run out of milk, can you nip to the shops and pick some up? Oh, and some toilet paper. And a magazine depicting a woman tied up with rope getting her arse caned? Thanks!"

Penthouse Forum

This actually looked from its cover like it might be the kinkiest of the lot, featuring as it did a scary-looking woman in latex and a surgical face mask.

That was a bit misleading though. The cover lady was an example of an artwork by photographer and artist Mia Tyler. Forum, it turns out, is as vanilla as they come.

Pictured: vanilla

Lots of penises in this one, too. In fact there are a lot of very close-up pictures of penises being inserted into orifices. Is that sexy?  It seems a bit impersonal. I'd prefer to have a bit more context. I want to see the lady and gentlemen concerned enjoying themselves. Not to mention a chance to check out the home furnishings.

Well, actually I require a lot more context from my mastubatory aids. I need well-drawn characters and an interesting and coherent narrative arc. I suspect that these magazines aren't really aimed at me at all.

There is a photoshoot of office workers, Lexi and Vanessa, which starts off looking exactly like a Jackie photo story. I wish there were speech bubbles I would love to know what was being discussed in these first couple of panels that led to lots of naked oral sex a few panels later.

"Just had my nails done. Do you like them?"
"Er, yes they're lovely."
"Anyway, enough chit chat, let's get on with the sexing."

Playboy

And finally, we come to the last magazine on my list. The most mainstream and classiest of all porn mags. So mainstream and classy, in fact, that I think even high street retailers like W H Smith deign to stock it on their shelves.

You know when people say "I only buy Playboy for the articles", well it turns out that non-sexy articles in Playboy are totally a thing. This edition had an interview with Mike Tyson, an article on cars, twenty questions with some comedian called Nick Kroll and book reviews of totally legit non-porny books. I didn't read any of them. I didn't buy Playboy for the articles. I bought it for the naked pictures.

And Playboy are terribly good at the naked pictures side of things. I know I praised Fiesta earlier on for including lots of realistic-looking women in their photoshoots but there is something to be said for looking at pictures of astonishingly beautiful women. Playboy models are terribly aesthetically pleasing, you know.

Try and tear your eyes away from this young lady's bottom, for example.
You can't, can you?

Although there was one photo which profoundly shocked me and went against all sense of decency and propriety regarding things that are acceptable to depict in a magazine.

Wait a minute, young lady, are you smoking?
Dear God, children might see this, you know.

So there you go. Five reviews of five pornographic magazines. I'm not sure what I have learnt from this experience apart from the fact that you can get some surprisingly filthy pornographic material in little local convenience stores just outside of Guildford.

I now have a stack of porno mags that I need to decide what to do with. Oh, who am I kidding? There's clearly only one thing that I should do with the things. I shall rip all the pages out and then scatter them in the hedges of my local park for the edification and delight of Surrey schoolchildren*. Sure, they can all get porn on their phones these days, but sometimes it's nice to do these things old-school.


* I  am, just to be clear, not actually going to do that. Thought I should clarify that in case someone felt the need to report me to someone. I imagine that sort of behaviour would be be rather more frowned on these days than it was in the 1980s.

Barbie: Feminist Icon

This is my 'B' post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. "What's that?" you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.

Barbie is without a doubt a feminist icon. You only need to look at the number of different careers that woman has successfully taken on. She's a ballerina, she's a school teacher, she's a vet, she's an architect, she's a computer programmer. She knows how to fly a jet. She's even been into space, for goodness, sake. How many of you can say that?

Not a rhetorical question. If you have been to space, let me know in the comments.

And all this while having feet the same size as one of her eyelashes. She's basically battling a disability every day of her life. No-one gives her credit for that.

And yet the poor woman comes in for a lot of hate.

I have noticed that friends who are mothers of daughters tend to find the range of pink glittery girly merchandise a bit ghastly and congratulate themselves if their daughters show a fondness for pirates and spaceships rather than Barbie and Disney princesses. This bothers me.

I don't think that any toys should be exclusively aimed at boys or girls. Children should play with whatever damn toys they want to regardless of what sex they are. But I do think that it's a little troubling that girls are being steered away from toys traditionally associated with girls. It bothers me because I think that the world is still fundamentally a sexist place. Men are considered by society to be superior to women. Femininity (whatever that means) is considered weaker and less desirable than Masculinity (whatever that means).

Daughters are praised for eschewing 'girly' toys because rejecting items that are considered 'feminine' in favour of 'masculine' ones is considered a step up by society. Boys are discouraged from playing with toys from the pinker side of Toys R Us because it is essentially a demotion.

So if you don't like your daughter playing with pink glittery princess shit, well you're part of the problem of gender inequality in this country, that's what I'm saying.

Keep fighting the feminist fight, sisters!

And sure, you might argue that pirates and spaceships are just so much cooler than dolls and tea-sets. In fact, it seems to be considered an incontrovertible truth by many of my friends. But, you know, as a wise man once said that's just, like, your opinion, man.

Sure, pirates are great fun if you like lauding violent criminals who still operate in the world right now. Most space-themed toys just seem to be excuses for battles in space (there was a popular series of films about that, wasn't there? Space Battles or something).

Which is fine. Suitable for boys, girls, grown-ups, whatever. But it's like how I feel  about movies. I get bored during battles and car chase sequences. I like movies where people talk to one another.

And dolls and all the other stuff from the 'strictly for girls' section are all about interpersonal relationships. At least they were the way I played with them. Regardless of whether I was playing alone or with friends, the toys provided the opportunity to create stories and situations in which people interacted with one another. They fought, they fell in love, on more than one occasion one of them would develop the ability to hypnotise the others for the purposes of evil. It was all about the stories. Toys are just the props kids use to spur on their fertile - and often twisted - imaginations.

I am unashamed of my love for Barbie. For about six years all my Christmas and birthday presents were Barbie-related. I had the pink convertible, the mobile holiday home, the horse,the Barbie town house, all the furniture and household furnishings. Including a shower which actually worked! (If you could be bothered to fill it up and really who could after the first couple of times?) The horse was pretty shit but everything else on that list? Fucking awesome.

The Barbie Townhouse.
It was basically four sheets of cardboard and some plastic tubes and it was the best thing I've ever owned.

My main Barbie was called Kay and she was an artist. The entire top floor of her house was her artist studio. I used to cut pictures out of the Sunday newspaper colour supplements and stick them round her studio as examples of her work. She had a varied artistic style ranging from Munch's The Scream to Turner's watercolours.

My older sister's Barbie was a model by profession because my sister argued that you couldn't look like that and not be a model. I argued the case at the time and am pleased to realise that years later, I was right. You can look like Barbie and do whatever job you want. You can be a Rocket Scientist, if you want. In fact, Barbie probably is a Rocket Scientist.

Barbie's looks are responsible for a lot of her bad press. She presents an unrealistic body image to young girls. It's a bit of an unfair accusation. She's basically a cartoon character as well as a toy. He-Man is an unrealistic body image for boys to aspire to. My Little Ponies are a terrible role-model for ponies. Seriously any ponies reading this blog, don't aspire to look like Rainbow Dash. Apart from anything else, if your head was that big, you'd probably just fall over all the time.

Dangerous role model

Nobody actually wants to look like Barbie, surely? Aside from the feet-so-tiny-they-would-qualify-you-to-collect-disability-benefit issue, you'd also have no nipples, knees which refused to bend more than 30 degrees and arms which were permanently stuck in a L shape. That would get old pretty quickly. Unless you were Gymnast Barbie in which case your limbs would move freely and after a year they'd limply flop about all over the place. Gymnast Barbie: the boneless wonder.

Bratz dolls are even weirder looking. I quite like Bratz  (not Bratz babies, though. They're just disturbing). I like the fact the fact that you take their entire feet off in order to change their shoes. Much easier than fiddling about with Barbie's footwear. Plus with time and a lot of patience, you can actually get a Bratz doll to stand on her own unsupported. Something poor Barbie could only dream of. (And yes, spending hours trying to balance one's daughter's Bratz doll so she doesn't fall over is a perfectly legitimate way for a grown woman to spend her evenings.)

All toys are for everyone. Pulling down the signs which say "Boy's Toys" and "Girl's Toys" is only the first step. We have to stop thinking about them in those terms. And as long as people consider certain types of toys to be fundamentally inferior to other types of toy (because of their pinkness and/or glitteriness), then we really aren't there yet.

Also, there was that time Barbie became the first female US president in 2012
Take that, haterz!