The Maggie Bra
I spoke previously of my recent excessive purchase. I feel I ought to share the outcome of that now.
Lust is a sin best served dripping with heat and passion. It may often be paired with that other avarice, greed. Possibly leading to pride. That’s how my thoughts ran when I first saw The Maggie Bra. I shall refer to it as that as that’s what the delectable picture below drew me into paying forty-something whole pounds for a bit of flimsy whimsy. Which was half price to boot. I have never paid so much for underwear before. Silky nightgowns, yes I admit I paid about forty something for that, but bras and knickers? Never.
I will allow Agent Provocateur some praise for their customer service and packaging. It arrived through the letter-box carefully sealed in the usual packaging cardboard but upon opening, they had placed it in a very pretty pink box tied with a black ribbon. I was already smiling. I have since stashed away the ribbon for future tying-up fun. Wrapped in black tissue paper, there it lay. My first impression was that the colour looks every bit as yummy as on the picture online. My immediate second thought was, ‘Is that it? i paid that much for that flimsy thing?’ I admit, it’s not much to look at when bereft of breasts, but as soon as I tried it on and adjusted the straps, that was another story entirely.
I mentioned before about never owning something as sheer as this previously. I am not the most buxom of girls, weight having been an issue with me for years. A nice handful nonetheless says Mister. Therefore, my brassiere choices have always been those of padding, push-up and under-wired to the hilt. Make the most of what I got. I do quite well with that attitude. It felt rather new and strange to wear this then. This sheer, lacy and fragile looking piece of material. But I have to say, I was very impressed. It was so very comfortable, the wires were just in the right place and everything stayed where it should have. It may not give my boobs the oompf I am used to, and I don’t think I will ever be confident enough to wear it out in public under my clothes (can’t be having things appearing on a cold, winter’s day), it shall be put to veritable use for my time with Mister. I am planning on wearing it tonight as he comes home from his job interview as part of my welcome home, end of woman’s week, love you tons treat for him I that have in mind. Possibly the outcome that this bra and many others are intended for, the ogle factor for those who are privileged to see ladies in their underwear, was very positive. Yes, things were looking up as I, quite obviously I’m ashamed to admit, paraded in front of him modeling the bra. I think it was under five minutes that he had me out of the bra.
Overall, I am rather in two minds still about my verdict. The cost is the major hang-up for me. For what it consists of and the quality of the product, I am sure I could find something just as nice in La Senza for twenty-something quid. This is a one-off, spoiling Pandorah gift to myself. The last for a little while (unless I give in and have to buy new shoes before my feet are murdered by the current two pairs I own). But to rule under this review, I shall end with where I began. Because cyclical things rock. My lust for this bra led me to hastily and greedily order it after devouring it with my eyes. The pride comes from the fact that it does the job of seduction rather well once my frame has filled the lace. Within seconds.
Which ultimately proved this to be a well-thought and worth-it purchase in my books.
Something Wicked This Way Comes
First things first, I’m not employed by Agent Provocateur, but lately I have been rather impressed by them, They lure me in with a sale with the luscious Maggie G as their model; have beautiful riding crops to die for and now, they present me with this. What am I to do. Entitled ‘The Season of the Witch’, it pushes my slightly darker buttons.
Clickthrough for larger and zoomable image from AP website
Ladies and Gentlemen: We have semi-clad men and women for your visual delights! Pretty underwear! Paganism! Voodoo! Parallels to Lady Grey’s execution as painted by Paul de la Roche, the temptation of Eve and Rubens’ Massacre of the Innocents! Ladies being very sexy with men and women! Women asserting their sexualities over the men! Woo!
What’s not to like?
I think I may be a lost cause. No hope for me at all of redemption. Nada.
Hey Big Spender
OK, now I’m at the height of naughty derring-do. I very rarely will buy extortionately priced clothing for obvious reasons. Underwear, I see no reason whatsoever in paying more than something-teen pounds for a pair of knickers. Bras, well, get over £25 and I’ll start fuming.
But, Agent Provocateur have a sale on. I have never bought anything from there because of the price tags, despite some beautiful, lust-inducing underwear collections. Look what I found:
Is this Maggie Gyllenhaal?
I couldn’t resist that bra…seriously, who could? So in 3-5 days I shall hopefully be the extremely chuffed owner of the lacy prettiness above. Not bad…in the sale, 50% off and in my size too! Alright, there’s the slight issue of paying…£42 for a bra…but it will be the last frivolous purchase for a while, honest.
Ahh who cares! I shall not feel guilty about this! I love it. Just hope it fits well…Lust is a just sin.
Sexy Music Videos – Madonna
I may be a little late in this posting, by about 18 years, but after revisiting some of Madonna’s music videos, I felt I had to write about them. We’ve all heard about her shenanigans of the 90s and her continuing pursuance of shock-factor publicity. There are her recent videos of her trying too hard to show she’s still a sexual being and possesses the flexibility of a slinky which roughly started with her collaboration with Britney and has most recently been showing off with another Disney Club Alumni, Justin Trousersnake in ‘4 Minutes’. I don’t want to talk about that. I want to go back to when she was truly flicking the switches of men and women. The early 90s.
There are a few videos in particular that I find myself getting rather hot and bothered whilst watching, namely ‘Erotica’ and ‘Justify My Love’. The triple combination of music, lyrics and moving image creates an escapists and voyeur’s paradise of kinky fun. Take a look at this still from ‘Erotica’:
I shall end with some musings over lyrics from Our Lady of the Kink:
Excuse the fuzz.
This is what you are left with at the end of ‘Justify My Love’. They occur earlier in her song itself and is silently repeated here so this is the lasting impression, the ghost image, you are left with after the video has left your screen. Again, the ambiguity seeps back in. Sure, a man, or woman for that matter, is lessened by their dependence entirely on the permission of another. But I don’t feel that the above sentence rings true for the images we have just seen. Or from ‘Erotica’. (In fact, that video could be ended with the exact opposite sentence ‘Rich is the man…’) They all seem to be pretty exuberant in their playing. Here’s the rub, however, for me. Pleasure is always a two way thing, even if you are in a Dom/sub relationship. A lot rides on the submissive’s consent – which in other eyes could be named permission – be it arranged a long time ago or in the instant their session begins in being treated in that manner. So, for me and my viewpoint on sex, pleasures can depend on the permission of another, but it is never a complete dependence. There should always be some level of communication and balancing (even if differently weighted) of permissions.
The videos here are just a little taster of things that I find erotic in life. Music, images, words. This combination is personally what can tip things over for me. I’ve talked before about music and songs I find sexy as well as exhibiting some of my own enticing words and images in front of you all. Sex and sexuality is always going to be a subjective area for people. Sometimes, I think, moments come along where we all unite together and find one individual the epitome of sex. And arguably, Madonna in these videos is that individual as someone enjoying her sexuality, laughing and having fun all at the same time being deadly serious in her pursuance of pleasure.
Last Tango In Blogland
Hmm, not as poetic a title as Last Tango in Paris. Answers on a comment card for a better Tango-related title. Win a prize.
I’m no dancer. Along with two left feet I also have a chronic lack of rhythm when it comes to attempting to dance. But I do appreciate the art form. I’m too self-conscious when it comes to dancing. I can wiggle a little at the appropriate moments when called for and tipsy enough though.
I adore the music for certain dances. I have a secret passion for Strictly Come Dancing. There you are, my TMI for the week. Some dances I can’t get on with. Sure the Jive is cute, as is the jaunty Quickstep. Watching the feathery floating feet of the dancers is all well and good. But give me passion any day. Give me a Tango. Oh Yes!
I think I can pinpoint the moment I fell in love with this dance. Moulin Rouge – El Tango de Roxanne. Need I say more?
The proximity of the couple in a Tango along with the storyline is just exquisite. One guy. His girl a lady of the night. The jealousies he holds for the clients she sees. Her death at his hands. It’s to die for. All those intricately placed feet – his displacing hers to result in the foot flicks the dance is infamous for. The long, languorous sweeps to the floor in which she extends her neck so far you would think something should go *pop* or *crick*, only to be snapped back up to his eye-level.
My thought processes this evening went along the lines of this leading me to my musings here:
Oh, I must go and buy Beowulf at some point…It could come in handy for the future…Hey, I wonder why they made Grendel’s mother have weird feet like high heels…Damn, Angelina Jolie is scrummy…Hmm, Angelina films? Girl Interrupted, Tomb Raider, Gone in Sixty Seconds, Ahhh…Mr & Mrs Smith…Damn, Angelina Jolie is scrummy…Hey, isn’t there a delicious scene in that film where she dances a violent and fucking hot Tango with Brad Pitt…I wonder if I can YouTube it…Ooh, this would make an interesting and vague blog post about the Tango…Link to other films…Moulin Rouge…True Lies…Yes, maybe I’ll do that.
Along those lines. I think it’s her attitude more than anything else that appeals to me. And those eyes teamed with those eyebrows. Personally, I think Mr and Mrs Smith was a big old hyper-inflated film. The Meeja blowing out of proportion and the amount of writer changes in the script showing painfully obviously when you watch it. Some of the dialogue is cringe-worthy. Still, you have to admit it’s pretty to look at. Mostly because of the protagonists. Easy on the eye. I also quite think Eva Green has beautiful eyes and an interesting voice, but I digress again. Back to Tango.
The Tango in this film is brutal. They have the passion. They have the pain – oh yes – the hitting of the back of Jolie’s head against a mirror, her expression is gorgeously revengeful. I want my head pushed into the back of a mirror/wall/cupboard. Oh wait…done the cupboard…one down, two to go!
There have been times when I thought to myself, ‘It would be so hot to do this dance with him’ but I know he wouldn’t. He doesn’t dance any more when we go out, unless we’re both quite tipsy. And his definition of dancing was founded and then cemented in the Nirvana Grunge Jumpy Dancing Dayes of Yore. We have danced once or twice together in a club. The first time was in our first few months and it was very hot. We’ve danced in the kitchen of my student digs to Green Day when we came home early one night out to mess around when no-one else was in (We managed sex in the cupboard at the end of the halls that night. Not as bad as it sounds). That was fun. I want to do that kind of dancing again when we have our own place.
I shall leave you to my incoherent babbling with a final image:
I bet his hands were nice and warm…
Pandorah’s Current Crush: Classical Fetish & BDSM
I do love a good period drama.
Always a fan of historical fiction – especially anything echoing a bodice-ripper – I jumped at the initial series of ‘Rome’ produced by the BBC in conjunction with HBO. Both these institutions hold a certain gravitas in their own leagues. BBC – stalwart of well-acted dramas such as ‘Pride and Prejudice’ in the early ’90s (Oh, Mr Darcy!) and recently came up trumps with ‘Sense and Sensibility’ (Oh, Mr Ferrars!) joined forces with the rambunctious reputation of HBO (sorry, been watching the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ director’s commentary and the word has stuck in my head) with a previous record including, of course, ‘Sex and the City’.
So, with ‘Rome’, what we get is a hybrid. A ‘Sex in the Classical City’ if I can get away with such liberties. And my, my; the Romans knew how to have a good time. Cue fantastic blood-thirsty fights, brilliantly acted bitchy sequences between aristocratic ladies, and of course, a multitude of sex scenes. Yum. I was instantly hooked.
I recently purchased the second series and I’m working my way through it in my spare time. (So it’ll take me a while I guess, not having much spare time currently) There is much more torture taking place in this series, and I know that there’s a highly charged torture/sex scene which I am sure has had much written about it elsewhere. It’s a good one. It got me thinking, as these things usually do…Firstly along the lines of…‘I wonder what it would be like to be gagged and taken from behind…’ before changing tack and considering the power that the woman in the scene holds.
In it, she is supposed to have been whipped for insubordination, but she’s such a wily one, our Gaia, and she ends up having it off with her persecutor, Pullo. The sexual tension between them had been brewing for a while and it bubbled to the surface in this instance of physical punishment. Through the very fact that he was unable to resist her he had relinquished the control into her hands.
She is the ultimate Minx. She has used her sexuality to her advantage and quashed any semblance of control he had over her in the act of fucking her. Bravo. But at what cost has this little skirmish taken place? She has goaded on the man by humiliating him – he couldn’t even flog the damn woman without shagging her – his lack of control in a split second is what plays it into her hands forever.
Sex has always been used as a weapon of control. And to give in to carnal desire is associated with being weak. Sexualised women in the past have always been looked down upon – ‘They have no *control* over their lust’ being the stereotypical Victorian view. So it is nice to find that in this Classical fiction by the BBC and HBO, that they have portrayed various women, both plebs and aristos, as having that sexual dominance over the men even back then. Their lust and desire is what gives them that control, not takes it away.
Desire
Every now and again my Inner Minx is piqued and I see something I really lust after. The other month it was a fleeting curiosity in an Ann Summers over-the-door restraining device, and this month I have a return lust for a riding crop. For quite a while I have wanted a riding crop. It comes and goes and I generally forget about this fleeting but recurrent crush. Then I come across one once more when looking at websites highlighting luscious lingerie or mischievous items. The other day I found myself plundering into this little corker:
Isn’t it just lovely? It’s even got a very pretty crystally handle. Possibly a little extravagant, but you have to let a girl have her moments of over-sensuousness sometimes. Quite a nice bottom on the model too. And the pose she’s adopted flaunts her lustrous back curves particuarly well. This is currently to be found in Agent Provocateur for the hefty sum of £125, so lusting after it is all I can do in reality. But that does not prohibit my mind from running through naughty thoughts. Caressing the head lovingly before running my hands down its smooth shaft. Gripping it with my firm hand. I can’t help but have sexy images of myself standing over Mister with the crop in my hand, gently flexing it, testing its tensile limits. Of course with a very Minxy smile.
And my Inner Minx is feeling the need to come out to play soon. Bring on the weekend and its possibilities for friskiness!
