Posts Tagged ‘power play’

Protected: Using D/s to Address Connection & Power

March 17, 2011  |  journal entries  |  Enter your password to view comments.

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Lesbian Sex Mafia Workshop! Gendering Power 2/19

February 5, 2010  |  miscellany  |  4 Comments

Come join me at the Lesbian Sex Mafia‘s February workshop!

LSM Presents: Gendering Power: How to Spice Up Your Role Play
with Sinclair Sexsmith

Where: LGBT Center, 208 West 13th Street (bet 7th and 8th Ave.)
When: Friday, February 19, 2010 at 8:00-10:00PM
Cost: $5/LSM members, $10/Non members

An interactive workshop on how the addition of gender to power dynamics in sexual role play scenarios can increase desire, vulnerability, and intimacy, as well as explore deep inner personal gender identities.

Review: Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls (DVD & Streaming)

October 30, 2009  |  reviews  |  No Comments

You may have run into this little site I co-run with Hot Movies For Her called VOD.sugarbutch.net … it’s up there in the “Mr. Sexsmith Recommends” link in the top navigation. Hot Movies For Her hosts streaming porn videos with a focus on women as the consumer, including queers, lesbian, trans, and girl-on-girl stuff. Working with them, I picked some of my favorite porn producers, like Pink & White, Madison Young, Blowfish Video, Trannywood Pictures, Buck Angel Entertainment, Reel Queer Productions, and Bleu Productions.

Bleu Productions you may recognize from the recent review of The Black Glove & The Elegant Spanking DVD – it’s a company run by Maria Beatty, who I actually hadn’t heard of until about a year ago but who has made quite a few lovely lesbian porn films.

So, I sat down to watch Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls through the Sugarbutch VOD a few weeks back.

pacHere’s the premise:

After the Third World War and global warming have transformed the planet into a desert, what remains? Two post-apocalyptic cowgirls in leather and Stetsons! A delicious submissive hitchhikes on a bleak Arizona highway. A car stops. A tough exotic Amazon with a gun and boots invites her into the car. The chemistry between these two sexy, dangerous lesbian chicks is gonna make you hotter than the desert sun. They spank, lick and play with boots, guns, snakes, and cacti in the dust. Their sex is a dripping wet oasis from the heat!

Which, I admit, is a little silly and unnecessary – but the chemistry and sex is really quite good. I liked the knifeplay. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone pee into someone else’s hands before (clearly I am still not an expert on porn, if that’s true), but Maria Beatty does seem to like that as it’s in another film of hers, too. I love the stockings. In fact, this film may have been the direct inspiration for some of my recent dirty thoughts about stockings. I dig the cowboy hat.

This film features the same two girls throughout, in five different scenes. They aren’t butch/femme, they aren’t particularly gender-anything, but, despite that that is probably my primary fetish, I didn’t mind its lack of presence. There is not a lot of power play – dom/sub or top/bottom – going on here either, which I also find pretty much a requirement of what I’d call good sex these days. One of the girls is more in charge than the other, and could perhaps be called the top or the dominant in this film, but the tables do turn and she does get fucked in the end.

I didn’t love her top/dominant presentation in this film, which is probably another reason I am saying that the power dynamic was lacking. Perhaps those of you who like their tops like her would find this very power-heavy and totally satisfying, but I didn’t think she was very inspiring. The sub/bottom was pretty good, but neither of their power roles felt particularly inhabited or inspired. (Plus, the toppy girl kept doing that sucking-air-through-her-teeth thing that really bugs me.)

The best thing this film has going for it is it’s aesthetic. It’s artsy. After seeing The Black Glove & The Elegant Spanking, it doesn’t surprise me that the setting, costumes, and filming are another element of seduction for Bleu Productions. They are paid attention to in ways that other porn films seem to overlook – as long as there’s a place to fuck and sexy clothes to take off, others tend to think that’s enough. I like how Bleu and Beatty put together something beautiful to look at.


If you’re a fan of Pink & White, as I am, this film doesn’t really compare. The queerness, gender, power, and skill in Pink & White is so well done and precisely what I love about sex – nobody’s as good as Pink & White. But looked at on its own scale, Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls is fun and sexy, with a bit of unusual edgeplay.

And don’t forget the sexy sexy stockings. Mmmmm.

(images from cinekink)
Rent or purchase Post Apocalyptic Cowgirls from Sugarbutch’s Video-on-Demand site through Hot Movies For Her.

if I had a red pen

August 12, 2008  |  essays, journal entries, miscellany  |  16 Comments

If I had a red pen that worked on internet web pages, I would go around and circle all the places where “Sugarbutch Chronicles” appears as “SugarButch Chronicles” or “Sugar Butch Chronicles.”

It’s a little thing, and it really doesn’t matter that much, what matters the most is that someone has seen this little space on the web of mine and likes it enough to link back to it in their own little space on the web. I’m always touched when I find Sugarbutch linked from a new place. So I’d never email somebody and be picky enough to say, “Hey, thanks for linking me, but will you change your capitalization?”

(I love how you can see the paper texture here, how the ink is just a little bit smeared. And that the word is “gender,” of course. So hot.)

But I always, always write this site name as “Sugarbutch,” so I’m not sure why people change it. The heading, the page title, the blog title, any comment I leave – it’s all one word. I admit, it’s a pet peeve of mine. I’m a grammarphile, after all. An English major. It’s not just the bad grammar that bugs me, but also the not calling things the way they want to be called, and lack of attention to detail.

Maybe other sugarbutches write the word differently and have different philosophies about why they capitalize or don’t capitalize the letter B. I don’t claim to have made up the term, but when I started using it, I’d never heard anyone else use it before me.

The way I see it, sugarbutch is a compound word. Part of why it is important that it is a compound word, why the B in butch is lowercase, is because the poetic meter of the phrase is a dactyl: the emphasis, when said, is on the first of the three syllables: SU-gar-butch CHRO-ni-cles. Adding a capital B gives the impression that it should be cretic: SU-gar-BUTCH CHRON-i-CLES, or, worse yet, that the “sugar” and the “butch” are separated completely: SU-gar BUTCH.

There’s a reason for the lowercase b, is what I’m saying.

(Thanks to the Movie Screenshot blog for the stills from Secretary.)

The red pen scenes always remind me of watching the film Secretary with The Ex. After she saw it for the first time, a few weeks later – it may’ve been our anniversary, or some such event, because I was definitely dressed up, and had brought flowers – she gave me two small gifts: one was very nicely wrapped small box, and in it was chewed up gum and pencil shavings. The other was a red Sharpie with ribbons tied around it.

Just remembering that moment where I opened the box makes something stir in my pelvis, some sort of heat of power. Sometimes she really knew how to play with me, how to get me going. It was so exciting, in the beginning.

When I opened these gifts I was in her office – she was the president of the queer student government group on my college campus, of course she was – and I locked her door, punished her, and fucked her on her desk long enough for us both to miss our next classes.

In the aftermath, we were tidying up, laughing, trying to listen to see how many people were in the adjoining lounge to figure out whether or not they knew we were in the office, and she took my hand and said, “Since I moved into this office I wanted to be fucked on this desk … thank you.”

One of my favorite moments of sex with her. Jeez, it’s so good in the honeymoon phase, isn’t it?

telling her what to wear

July 28, 2008  |  essays  |  15 Comments

I have in the past thought it kind of funny that girls would ask me to tell them what to wear. My feminist/analytical brain would pipe in with interpretations of beauty, insecurity, self-worth – but I really don’t see it that way anymore.

I see it as part of the larger conversation of gender as a fetish, as a performance, as a subversive display of sexualized gender presentation. And I see it as a very specific toppy/bottomy play, more specifically butchtop/femmebottom play.

It has also at times made me uncomfortable when girls wear things – or buy things – specifically for my tastes. I do have a couple particular enjoyments when it comes to femme clothes & shoes, and it is quite a gift when girls work to dress up for me.

I’m not sure why it’s hard to accept. Possibly because it’s hard for me to accept gifts in general, that giving is easier for me than receiving (I am resisting the connection here to my top identity, though I’m sure you already went there). Possibly also it is hard for my desires, and for me, to really be seen, heard, witnessed, acknowledged, because if I never let you know what I really want, you can never withhold it from me.

But my heart is more open than that old wound and lesson, generally. I like to practice revealing myself. I like to practice being vulnerable, I do find great strength and connection there.

And lately, I’ve had much better language, palette, for my particular desires. This website has helped that tremendously, as has playing with multiple girls over the past two years. I’ve been actually trying to notice and articulate when I find myself aroused into a state of desire; to be mindful of when my internal butch cock stirs and to ask why, to take note of the answer.

So when a girl asks me what kind of femininity display I like, I try to tell her. I explain – without pressure or expectation – what really does it for me, what gets me going, turns my crank. Underlying this conversation is also both of our acknowledgment that femininity – and indeed masculinity – is performed for the purpose of attracting and turning on your partner/lover/date.

And taking it a step farther by telling her what to wear is a step saying, this is how to turn me on. This is how to drive me wild all night. This is how our clothes are tools for flirting, this is how gender is subtle cues and clues and a language for sexuality.

It is a top/bottom game, if looked at this way, and I see it as very empowering to a bottom (you know, assuming being told what to wear is a game she likes playing, and doesn’t feel like it is controlling or patronizing or condescending behavior).

So, where is a bottom’s power? At least in these two places: 1) in enticing desire, and 2) to (actively) giving her power over to her top. In enticing desire, she turns on her top to the point of excruciation, to the point of bottomless desire and power. And when she gives over of her power, she places her power on a silver platter and presents it to her lover on her knees.

(This is why power play is deliberate: the bottom gives her power to the top, the top does not take it without permission. Unless, you know, that’s part of the scene, in which case there is still some sort of underlying permission, some level of giving freely.)

So: I (as a butch top) tell you (as a femme bottom) what to wear on our date (a short skirt, bare legs, strappy sandals, something white). You give power to me by giving up your own choice in what you wear, by obeying a request of mine (something that always turns me on), and by wearing something enticing that follows an aesthetic I particularly enjoy.

This is perhaps where power and surrender for the top and/or bottom gets blurred. Who has the power here? She does – the bottom – because all night I am uncomfortable and turned on because I got what I wanted, writhing at the sight of her in those lovely clothes, turned on by our gender and power foreplay. And then comes a turning point in the night where I stop feeling so reactive and (have to) surrender to the power she’s giving me, to the power and sexual energy I feel building. I give over to it, let it flow through me, let this be a way to tap into my particular well of it.

I love these kinds of power exchanges. I love the push-pull, giving in, giving back, empowering each other to feel sexy, desired, wanted, powerful, beautiful.

[ What I'm really trying to say here is: I have a blind date with a girl who sent me a wonderful photo of her in strappy sandals, and this was my complicated reaction. ]