Masturbation Monday

So, we here at the Barbed Pentacle have sucked at this Masturbation Monday thing.  We love to masturbate, but getting posts out by Monday just hasn’t worked, probably because we were too busy masturbating.  So, what the new plan is, is to post stuff here about ritual masturbation and links to blog posts on The Barbed Pentacle that reference heavily masturbation.

The Importance of Stroke Stories

by Sparrow Brown

I think it was inevitable that I would write pornography. From my very earliest memories, I was a sexually charged individual that lived in a fertile fantasy land full of rich, albeit, infantile, sexual adventures. I’m serious about the infantile part. I was three. I didn’t know what sex was, I only had the barest and somewhat misleading understanding of reproduction, but I knew that thinking about cowboys spanking me while I rubbed that little sensitive spot between my legs made me feel really nice. If I had come across visual pornography at that tender age, it would have scared me. A few years later I did come across pornographic magazines that my mother’s boss had stashed in the bathroom where she worked, and until I became immune to the images, they were scary.

There seems to be two types of people in the world: those that are hopeless drawn to visual pornography and those that love to fall into a hot stroke story. Of course, everybody has a little overlap. I can’t help but feel a twitch in my clit when I see a woman pulled over somebody’s—anybody’s– lap with a reddened ass. And I absolutely adore vintage boudoir photos. But for the most part, I’m a literary kind of girl.

Erotic stories have a certain practicality to them that visual pornography does not. First of all, it’s portable. You can read smut anywhere, where as looking at smut is a very private thing. Until your children can read, it’s kid friendly. There’s no, “Mommy, why doesn’t that lady have clothes on, and just WHAT are they doing?” Written pornography is also a highly personal matter, since any act of reading involves the individual in ways that a visual image just can’t. That’s not to say that visual pornography doesn’t involve its viewers in a personal way, but it’s harder for the viewer to “own” the fantasy, meaning put themselves into the fantasy, while they are viewing the porn. It’s much easier as a reader to imagine yourself as the main character, whipping ass where ever you go or constantly being bent over, than it is if you’re watching the main character on a screen doing the same things. While the author may have carefully constructed how a character looks using precisely chosen adjectives, since your brain is not being constantly reminded of that image, most readers find themselves substituting characters from their personal fantasies into the the story. And that’s great! As a writer, that’s what I want my readers to do. If my character is not getting you up, by all means, please imagine a different character within the frame work of my story. My job as a pornographer is to get you up and get you wet. If your hands are not finding their way to your crotch as you read one of my stories, then I haven’t done my job.

I’m not a scientist, and I’ve done absolutely no research on this, but I suspect that reading a stroke story stimulates different parts of your brain than viewing pornography does. I’m sure there’s overlap, since both can stimulate a sexual response. However, for me, nothing gets me in the mood for a heavy play session, psychologically and physically, like reading one or two porn stories. By the time my dominant gets things set up, I’m already wet and craving his touch. It’s almost as if I’m already in a kind of pre-sub space, ready to be tied up and beaten for hours. From just reading a well written story, my imagination has already released a flood of endorphins, which in turns makes my body pliant and willing for almost anything. Have trouble with anal sex? Read an anally stimulating story before hand. Apprehensive about have your back stretched taunt and flogged? Read a story about it an hour before your session (preferably historical fiction). The best part about written erotica is that it is a submissive’s and a dominant’s best friend when it comes to introducing new ideas into a relationship. The best and most subversive way to top from the bottom (and don’t pretend like you don’t do it; please, we all do it!) is to slip your dom/domme a story about a character experiencing things that you’d like to experience in the play room. If your dominant is just foggy enough, he or she will swear up and down that it was their idea. And the reverse is true. If your submissive has put down some hard limits on an activity that you would like to try, send him or her a few stories featuring that act. After a month of required reading, those hard limits will probably start to soften just a little.

Manipulative? Yes, but isn’t that a very big part of this thing we all do? We all subtly manipulate each other so that we get what we need and want and crave. Written pornography is the best tool in the world for that. It’s psychology at its absolute sexiest! Hmmm, a hot psychologist asking me all these questions about my deepest, darkest, most nasty sexual fantasies……See? There’s a play and a story idea right there.

Even the most outlandish literary pornography, just absolute fantastic trash, is closer to the reality that you live in than any visual pornographic image because your imagination filters all the words through your reality to make it “true” to you. Critics like to bash pornography in general for being unrealistic and just plain “horrible”. And that may be said to be true for visual pornography, but I would argue that it doesn’t hold as true for the written word because your mind, even though it’s still just a fantasy, is going to be able to relate those words to your real life in a way a visual image never can be related. Your girl friend may not have double D breasts, and although the character in the story that you’re reading does, your mind is eventually going to forget that detail about the character until the author mentions it again. Instead, your mind is going to substitute a B cup for those double Ds.

See why written pornography is so wonderful? It’s no wonder that I fell into its clutches early on. I started writing pornography when I was 13, and I started my own email chain when I was 16 as a way to circulate my stories. Stroke stories have been very nice and kind and wonderful to me, and I wouldn’t trade them for all the porn videos in the world.

Masturbating to My Matron and My Patron

(You have to listen to the song while you read.)

Last night I was so extremely horny.  For several weeks I had been picturing myself with my Matron in an 1880′s whorehouse.  She would was the Madame and I a girl.  She would have me pinned over her lap and an ottoman, spanking me my half dressed body.  And I had one of those plump, luscious 1800′s asses, just perched up in the air like two plump cantaloupes.  As She whipped me, I would scream and moan, “Mamma!  Mamma!  Please!” in an inscrutable mixture of anguish and longing.  As I got wetter and wetter, She inserted a slippery, wooden dildo into my pussy and a wood, obelisk plug in to my wanting anus.  Immediate explosions against my G-spot from either side sent me rocking back and for over Her lap and into her kissing stiff strap.  Nothing like being fucked by a Goddess.  There’s no need to defile Herself with a phallus when Her brute strength does it all.  The most sweetest way to be fisted!  Like being rocked back and forth in a sling.  Wetness gliding out like warm donut glaze.  And just as sweet.  Hmmmmmmm……………Ohhhhhhhhh………Ahhhhhhhhhhh oh my sweet Godess, oh my sweet Lady, OH MY SWEET Mamma!   AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I slump like a limp, lifeless well-loved rag doll made from the sweetest most delicate ivory scraps of lace and linen mixed with soft Charleston cotton.   Ohhhhhhhh, the dulcinating sweetness!  I shiver in shock, feeling the warmth emanating from her rich thick thighs, that now have gone from a white chocolate Nestle’s Crunch to a Milk chocolate Nestle’s Crunch (saying ‘Nestle’ is like taking a rich, decadent deep tongue slurp of a girl’s clam) of the Voodoo avatar of Herself.

(She wants me to get this on my shoulder as a sub mark, either as a tat or a brand.  She favors branding with Her fire, but she knows how my Beloved is.  He’s wary of it. Maybe he’ll consent to me getting it all done in ink except for the tiny stars that he can brand on me with hot pins.)

Le Maman.  Mammmmmmmmmaaaaaa!  I scream in triumph and love.  She does love me!  Loves me in the slick sick to your stomach feeling over realizing that you have some deep seated incestous feelings, Electra.  Hehehehe.  It turns you on, doesn’t it?  It does everyone, but no one will admit it.  Except, Electra.  Ahhhhhhhh.  My Ganesha vibrator’s nubbled clit lover dug down deep with my ass filled and my cooch buzzing, I came the hardest that I have ever come while masturbating.  I feel robbed all these years by not owning a vibrator.  Even better than the pulse setting on the shower head or the washing machine.

And then I saw this picture online.

And this is what I have been experiencing for the past couple of weeks.  This is it!  Just looking at it makes my butt cheek clinch and my clit swell and twitch just at the remembrance of the loving pain delivered in each sweet, slicing swish!  It has to go in my PPP book of shadows.  That feeling as a reminder to shape up like a corset and do right by Mamma.

And then today, while looking this photo up on my computer, I just about came while looking at it.  Then Mary Jane showed up and joined in and thing really got started!  My Goddess!  The thought of a Turn marathon and watching that Caleb Brewster character played by that Daniel guy up on the screen taunting my sexuality and my ability to cheat on my Beloved in my dreams because Caleb Brewster is so very much like my Beloved that they might as well just meld in to an amalgam.  (Too much Henry Miller this week!) Soft and hard in all the right places Meghan Trainer sings and slinks.  I like some booty and belly in a guy.  Not obese, but well loved in the kitchen.  A hearty appetite–for ALL things–like spanking my ass until they’re plump and swollen like two ripe cherries!  Oh my Goddess!  We are in the woods, surrounded by Oak, Pine, Maple and Holly, and Caleb’s in his garb

and I’m in a long sleeve shift with a dark green petticoat on and light soft green jumps, and a worn white pinner. My hair is slipping out of a mob cap that ties with a purple ribbon that Caleb got especially for me and barefoot and bare legged.  There’s a whale’s tooth sewn onto my cap.  Only stout rogues go whaling.  Jiggly blubber fried in butter.  Oh, what wonderful post coitus food.  So succulent and sinful, just like Satan.  Ah!  He has me bent double with my skirts thrown up over my head, and my recently light up, reddened ass (but he says ‘arse’ which sounds dirty like ‘fart’) (ass is sass!) Oh, he’s fucking me so hard and artfully!  His fat cock is slammed in cunt and his fat sac, that’s like a smacking thick steak wet paddling your ass, is some what squeezed up my ass like a little soft dildo and the rest is just slapping that tender skin and perineum. {It was really the first time that I have ever used ben-wa balls.  I used a small “self-massager” to try to find that orgasm again from last night, but it will be never again.  I popped in a small, petite ass plug that I had looped the cord of the ben-wa balls around for safe keeping like a leash for a sub.  Oh, Gosh, he’s fucking me so hard that my stomach has dropped out like on a roller coaster.  I’m in that bliss state with my Matron and my Patron.   I shiver in orgasms that fall away from me like splinters from the ax wielding by Caleb chopping wood and making shingles to paddle me with.  ”Oh sweet fundament!”  He laughs heartily at my pun.

I realize that he has blood splattered on his face from slaughtering some pork and that he’s leaving bloody smears all over my chunky hips and booty.  He grips you hard.  He’s one of THOSE.   Shiver after shiver of intense physical and mental orgasms, waves upon waves that shake everything and make your nipples hard hours after you’ve slid off of the soft exercise ball where you had been bent over fucking yourself wishing that you could feel the thuds of a medium stroke from a flat tailed scourge of suede on your back.  The stinging tickling of tips on the back of your neck like Jane Eyre’s switches.  To have to look down and willing bare your neck is so Anne Boleyn.  And now I lay here spent listening to “Turpin Hero” repeatedly because all women fantasize about the lusty rogue highwayman.

Gay men too.  We all do. “Turpin commands him to stand still/ Says, ‘Your cloak I must cut off/ My mare (me!!!) she needs a saddle cloth.’”  It’s that fling that you know will end in doomed sorrow, but you do it anyway because it’s so intense that the painful memories are sweet enough to make you have secret orgasms that are just only for you.  I feel them so intensely that the puncture make on the inside of my elbow from where I gave blood for my Matron a week ago is starting to throb like it was fresh drawn.  No greater sacrifice than blood.  You don’t give blood for your Deity?  Then maybe you don’t really love them.  Caleb is my version of The God, just as my Beloved is in flesh and blood.  Eat your heart out Jesus!  I got the God in flesh and blood right here, bi-otch!  ”Kneel to your betters, bitch!”  So says Caleb!  All hail my God!

Read about the REAL Caleb Brewster:  Now listen to this!

Read about the REAL Dick Turpin:

Recent Posts

The Pagan Next Door/#givingtuesday

She paints her nails according to magical correspondences,

jeweled-toned extensions of Goddess finger tips.

Her ritual garb consists of the sweat pants without the holes,

the ones that don’t camel-toe,

with the silver stitching down the length of the legs for the Moon Lady.

She stands out there, in the sunshine day,

picking out her gemstone collection

from the gravel the trailer park owner dumped 3 days ago.

Granite and quartz, bits of mica and moonstone,

go in her pockets, making the fleece stretch and bulge.

Metaphysical isn’t in her vocabulary,

and the concept of a whole store of it is for faraway Asheville,

but she finds her supplies each week at the flea market stall

amongst the vape liquids and rolling papers

and raids the gas station condiment bar for all the rest.

On the hood of the Buick that barely runs

She forms the shape of her ex from canned biscuit dough

Bobble Buddy Christ and the Hula Girl grin from the dashboard.

They give you extra at the food pantry if you got Jesus on your side–

Even if they question the blasphemous example.









Smudged with kerosene fumes and Misty smoke,

liberally libating from a 40 oz Bud,

She whispers to the poppet,

“Shit me on child support, mother fucker!”

before she feeds it to his new girl friend’s dog next door.

On this #GivingTuesday, The Barbed Pentacle would like to suggest that you give to one of the non-profit organizations that we enjoy and support:

COYOTE:  Call Off Your Old Tired Ethics works to reform the laws in the US concerning sex workers so that the laws are more fair, ethical, and promote a safer working environment.

ACLU:  The American Civil Liberties Union works to fight any instance that your civil liberties, as protected by the Constitution of the US and its amendments, are violated.

NORML:  The National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws works to reform the laws in the US concerning marijuana and its derivatives and to completely legalize it.  Over the last decade, this organization has made great progress, but there is still a long way to go.

LLL:  The Lady Liberty League is sponsored by Circle Sanctuary and is dedicated to giving assistance to Pagans and Heathens who are facing Freedom of Religion issues.  LLL will help you when many other organizations will not.

Circle Military Ministries:   Circle Military Ministries is sponsored by Circle Sanctuary and gives religious, legal, and material support to Pagan and Heathen service men and women, veterans, and their families.  All of their services are free of charge, which is why financial and volunteer support is needed.

The Wild Hunt:  The Wild Hunt is the foremost Pagan and Heathen news agency at this time.  They actively work to legitimatize reporting on Nature-based religions as well as curate an accurate and unbiased media network.

Witchvox: Who hasn’t found a group via the Witches’ Voice?  Although I have to say that I’m a little dismayed that their article standards have been lowered some what in the last couple of years, they are still a networking and learning database that is a cornerstone of our community and should be supported.

Local Food Banks:  Make sure to donate food, money, and other resources to your local food bank whenever you can.  In one of the world’s richest countries, nobody should be going hungry, and most of all, nobody deserves to starve.  Starvation is an awful, slow death.  Besides, somebody in your circle probably depends heavily on a food bank/pantry near you.

Paying the Bills, Giveaways, Announcements……

Reserve your spot now!!!!!

Make sure to mention me, Sparrow Brown, in the subscription comments so that I can get paid!  Make sure to check out my column and articles in the December issue!




The Krampusnacht Party is Dec. 5, 9:30pm EST!





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