Showing posts with label Show Yourself to Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Show Yourself to Me. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Review Tuesday: Show Yourself To Me by Xan West

Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica by Xan West
Go Deeper Press, 2015

I am not the target audience for this very personal book. I’m not transgendered, or disabled, or a person of color. I’ve never been abused, sexually or otherwise. My real world experience with kink is limited to a single, long-ago relationship, though dominance and submission permeate my sexual fantasies and much of my writing. Although I’m strongly attracted to women and label myself bi-sexual, in practice most of my relationships have been straight. My reality has little in common with the world portrayed in this collection.

Nevertheless, Xan West’s tales speak to me at some fundamental level. The stories in Show Yourself to Me evoke emotions that I recognize, even when the activities are foreign to the point of being disturbing. There are truths here, shining against the dark background of extreme sadism, articulated with glorious clarity. They linger long after the visceral impact of Xan’s rough sex has faded.

Many of these tales were familiar. I’ve always appreciated both the intense eroticism and the subtle interplay of complementary desires one finds in any story authored by Xan West. Gathered together, these tales are almost overwhelming—each one a punch in the gut, with no time to recover before the next. This book is not for the faint of heart.

Although the sexual activities involved in these stories tend to be quite similar, the moods vary. The book begins with the plaintive and nostalgic “Missing Daddy”, a top’s reminiscing about his first dominant.

I miss Daddy. It’s that simple. Not just him—I miss who I was back then. A chubby cub novice, eager, hungry, open. We’re supposed to graduate, you know. Those of us whose path to the top begins at the bottom. We’re supposed to grow from boy to Daddy in a way that is so fine, so right, where we pay our dues and never look back with longing.

The secret truth of it is this: many of us that moved to the other side of the whip did it to approximate what we had longed for and rarely received. We did it not because we grew up slowly, nurtured by Daddy, but because we decided to grow up on our own and stop yearning for that kind of Daddy. To instead get our pleasure from being that Daddy to some lucky boy. No one tells those stories. It would not do to talk of the ways we suffered from neglect, betrayal, abandonment, and flat-out abuse as bottoms. It would rip open our mythology and make our boys doubt our desire for them.

Theo was before all that. When I was fresh-faced and barely 24. When I still thought that the hard part was figuring out I was a Daddy’s boy. When I was hopeful and certain in my desires. When I still felt whole.

This passage made me ache. It’s so rare that erotic authors chronicle the process that leads someone to become a top, or consider the vulnerabilities that might remain beneath the facade of absolute power.

First Time Since” portrays loss of another sort. After releasing a submissive from a long-term relationship, the narrator stops wearing the boots that symbolize the D/s dynamic.

We build these intense relationships, fill them with ritual and intent and all of our full selves, and even if they end honorably (as this one did), that doesn’t stop us from feeling ripped in two. Like a vital piece of self just walked out the door, never to return.

Rebuilding came first. Reclaiming all the tasks I delegated to him. All of the opportunities for service that I created led to this sense that we were one unit—interdependent.

So I began to take them back. From the preparation of food to putting away my clothes precisely as I require. From keeping my glass full to shaving my head every week.

But not my boots. They gathered dust as I tried to imagine feeling powerful enough, strong enough, whole enough to wear them. They were patient. More patient than I was with this grieving.

Eventually, this dominant finds a new bottom, someone eager to bathe those boots in tears and cum, then polish them to a perfect shine. The fact remains though, that sex is only an expression of deeper needs—for connection, for control, for reverence.

That is perhaps one of the primary messages in this book. Kinky sexual activities abound in Show Yourself to Me: ass-fucking, cock-sucking, fisting, piss play, knife play, breath play, fire play, floggings, canings, pretty much any extreme you might imagine. Still the author is very clear—physical sex is not the point. These stories aren’t just wildly transgressive fuck-fests (not just...). They’re parables about admitting who you are, owning your desires even when they’re socially unacceptable, searching for partners whom you can trust enough to show your true self—dark as that might be—and who will be equally open in return. The release that comes from that sort of connection (which might just as easily be found in an anonymous alley fuck as in a committed relationship) goes far beyond pleasure.

One story that beautifully illustrates this point is “The Tale of Jan and Tam”. Jan is new in town, kinky and queer, a novice bottom looking for a place to call home. Tam is an experienced top of legendary sadism who has just split with a boy who allowed that cruelty to get out of hand. At a workshop, Jan and Tam negotiate a scene of “transformative play”.

Jan continued, “I don’t want the transformative part to be about me and what I need. What I need is pain. If that can be a path to your transformative experience, that would be my choice.”

Tam was silent for a few minutes. Who was this person? How could they have arrived offering exactly what ze had just realized ze needed? Ze couldn’t even really believe it.

You’re talking about me being the focus of the transformative play?”

Jan was glad ze finally spoke. It had been so hard for them to get out. But they had come to Carter Hall hoping for more. The only way to get what they wanted was to name it.

Yes,” Jan said quietly. “What kind of transformation do you seek?”

....

I want to unleash my sadism, go deeper than I have in a long time.” Tam swallowed. “What I need is for you to hold on to me as I do that. To be the anchor to this world. To accept what I show you, however scary, and keep holding on.”

That’s a big job.”

Yes. And. I need you to really be able to hold space, during and after.”

Jan nodded. Was this something they could do? They knew they wanted it. But it was important not to make false promises. Tam would be counting on them. Jan swallowed. Time to take the risk.

Yes. I can do that. I want to do that, for you.”

The scene that follows is intense, but for me, this negotiation, this naming of one’s desires, was the most arousing part of the story.

Another message common theme in Show Yourself To Me involves the fluidity of gender. Physical anatomy doesn’t determine maleness or femaleness, and indeed, there exist infinite variations between these two apparent poles. In many stories, I wasn’t sure of either the biological or the psychological gender of the protagonists. After a while, I decided it didn’t matter. A strap-on cock is as real as one of flesh and blood. Indeed, the fact that one has chosen a cock as opposed to being born with one can make it sexier.

Xan begins the story “Strong” with a candid admission of this fact:

For both of us, gender is complex identity and elaborate sex toy. But not just that. It is not easy to grow up breaking the gender rules, to live lives visibly nonconforming. Gender is a dangerous and delicious edge in which we play, knowing that we may inadvertently step on the minefields of our gendered histories and present struggles. Part of the thrill is that danger. We push gender to its own edges, play its sharpness against our throats, fear in our mouths, ache in our guts, building armor against becoming what we fear.

In this tale, the submissive plays as both male and female. Ultimately the sub is more than either.

This is already much longer than my typical review. There’s a lot more I could say. I could go on posting exquisite snippets from Xan’s tales more or less indefinitely. I have many more bookmarked.

Instead, I’ll just tell you flat out. If you’re intrigued and aroused by gender ambiguity—if you’re looking for erotica that’s both brilliantly insightful and blazing hot—if you believe, as I do, that sexual interactions are a path to healing and self-awareness—go get yourself a copy of this book.


Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Liking It Rough (a post for International Fisting Day)

By Xan West (Guest Blogger)

I found out about fisting from leatherdyke erotica. A story described it in delicious detail, so that I could picture each movement. It made fisting feel possible, walked me through the act, step by step. Lubing up, working each finger in, pausing, pulling out when it felt like too much, working back up to it, coaxing, that exquisite slide inside, staying still and just holding onto the sensation of your whole hand being inside, moving gently and sparking huge responses. That story depicted fisting as a kink unto itself, one that was sweet, gentle, intimate and power-neutral.

I’ve never done a scene where fisting was sweet, gentle or power neutral. Intimate, most definitely. But my play, and my sex, just doesn’t look like that, doesn’t feel anything like the scene in that book. In all honesty, in addition to that just not being my erotic cup of tea, play that fits that description is way past my own personal edges.

I like my sex rough, full of power dynamic, and ideally combined with pain. So while that story made fisting seem physically possible, it didn’t make it seem hot. Now the gang bang story that was also in that collection, where a submissive gets fucked in the back room of the bar by a dozen dykes who use their cocks, hands, and fists, but has to wait to come until her dominant is fucking her? Let’s just say that’s where the book’s binding broke. In both my copies of the collection.

So it may not be a surprise that some of my favorite fisting memories are of group sex, where the person being fisted is in a sling, in a public dungeon, surrounded by tops. These are memories of queer community and deep intimacy, and they are gloriously hot ones that I treasure deeply. From the first time I tried anal fisting, being coached by a group of faggots to work my hand into an experienced bottom, to lining up about eight queer fists from smallest to largest in preparation for a very lucky bottom and an intense beautiful scene not one of us is likely to forget.

So when I was writing a group fantasy fulfillment gender play scene involving a band of tigers and a tender sweet young thing that was inspired by a children’s story, it made perfect sense to include fisting. My kind of fisting, combined with pain and feral play, as part of the culmination of intense gender play, where the bottom has been pushing his edges. Fisting that looks, and feels, like rough sex. And to write that portion of the story from the bottom’s point of view, where the bottom is egging the top on to go harder.

Now, it happens to be International Fisting Day, a global event celebrating fisting. It was created in 2011 by queer porn legends Jiz Lee and Courtney Trouble, as a response to the overwhelming censorship of fisting as a sex act in pornography. As a queer kink erotica writer, and someone who adores fisting, I deeply value the representation of fisting in erotic material.

In honor of the fifth annual International Fisting Day, I thought it might be fun to share a fisting excerpt from that story. So here you have it, fromThe Tender Sweet Young Thing, which appears in my new collection, Show Yourself To Me. (Available at Go Deeper Press, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.) As a heads up, this excerpt includes descriptions of a group scene including pain play, gender play, bondage, blade play, feral play, and of course, fisting.



Excerpt from “The Tender Sweet Young Thing”

Rebecca got her hand in Téo’s curls, and was doing that twisting-pulling thing that felt like sex. Dax snapped the scissors close to his ear, making him jump. Mikey was doing something slithery and twisty in his front hole. Damn, her paw was big. He wanted it inside him so bad, punching into his cervix with those powerful huge arms. Why was she going so damn slow? He was all-over impatient.

That’s when Dax began to cut into his perfect dress. He started to pull at the ropes, glaring at Dax, who seemed to get even bigger and more excited the more he glared. Xóchi and Lee began to pull at the tears Dax was making, and the fabric made a wet, almost breaking sound as they ripped it. Somehow, Téo was sobbing. Rebecca was stroking his hair, gathering him to her breast, and Mikey slid deeper into him and stilled.

Dax met his eyes, and he was held in the demand and witness of someone who got it. Got how helpless he needed to be, and how much he needed to let go, and how tender and new he was inside, and how scary it was to let others know that. Dax placed the scissors on his bare stomach, holding them firmly against him. They were cold and warm at the same time. How was that possible?
Dax reached over and stroked Téo’s cheek, lifting hir fingers to suck off his tears. Ze repeated Mikey’s question. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. I wonder what it is?”

This time, he could say it. “I am a tender sweet young thing.”

Mikey pulsed her hand inside him, and he moaned, repeating it, and getting rewarded by more twisting-pulsing yum that made his thighs quiver.

Lee and Xóchi growled, nuzzling his side. Rebecca stroked his curls, emerging with ribbons that she put in her own hair. He was getting stiff, and he wanted to move, so he said it: “Untie me this instant. My dress is getting mussed!”

They all chuckled and began untying him. Mikey stayed where she was, writhing her fingers inside him.

So, you want to be free for this, eh? That sounds perfect,” she said.

Oh yes,” he said and used his newly free hands to shift position. He knew if he hit the right spot, oh yes...her hand slurped in, and she grinned at him.

The rest of the tigers began to nuzzle his belly, and neck, and thighs. Mikey went to work in his hole, pulsing, then twisting, still going way too damn slow for him, and he told her so, began to work with her, thrusting on to her fist, telling her to punch him deep inside, he could take it, he wanted it, her fat fist was exactly what he needed. She caught on real fast and began slamming into him just right, and he lost control of his muscles and just let her take over. He was impaled on her huge and perfect fist, and he could feel it build in his chest. Damn…did he really need to cry again?

It seemed that he did, and as he began to sob, five tigers chose their spots and bit. Dax chose his belly, the soft part of him, the place where he was most tender. Rebecca went after his neck, sucking hard on the bite, wanting him to remember her teeth for days to come. Xóchi chose the inside of his arm, and that hurt the fucking worst. Damn, she was evil in the best way. Mikey bit down on the heel of his hand as she came because he felt so damn good spasming around her fist. Lee chose his thigh, and it mixed in with the sex to push him over into a sobbing orgasm that spiraled through him until he was spent. They all bit down and savored the sweetness of him, feeding on his tears, past his pleasure, until they were sated.


More information about Show Yourself To Me:

In Show Yourself To Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive
queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene--tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants
find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within
these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This
is Show Yourself To Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.




About Xan West:

Xan West is the nom de plume of Corey Alexander, a recent transplant to Oakland from Brooklyn, who has been doing community kink education for over ten years. Xan has been published in over 35 erotica anthologies, including the Best S/M Erotica series, the Best Gay Erotica series, and the Best Lesbian Erotica series. Xan’s story “First Time Since,” won honorable mention for the 2008 National Leather Association John Preston Short Fiction Award. Xan’s work has been described by reviewers as “offering the erotica equivalent of happy ever after” and as “some of the best transgressive erotic fiction to come along in recent years.”

Xan refuses pronouns, twists barbed wire together with yearning, and tilts pain in many directions to catch the light. Xan adores vulnerable tops; strong, supportive bottoms; red meat; long winding conversations about power, privilege, and community; showtunes; and cool, dark, quiet rooms with comfortable beds. Find Xan’s thoughts about the praxis of sex, kink, queerness, power, and writing at xanwest.wordpress.com.

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