Submissive Training: 17 Reasons I Love the Leash & Collar

If I have an object fetish, it’s certainly the collar.  Maybe it has to do with my girlhood days as an equestrienne, but the leather does it for me.

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To put the collar on a submissive is an incredibly erotic act; to have the collar on instills a feeling of being contained, brought under control, also delectably erotic.

Then there are all the fun ways that collar can be applied: tractioning, leading, restraining. It’s also a non-verbal training signal that it’s time to pay attention and serve.  Some people use it only when they play, while some submissives are made to wear their collar whenever they are in private or in BDSM-friendly company.

From where I sit (on the Chaise Longue) you don’t have to go all heavy duty with the pain or the toys to expand your sexual horizons with your partner; the leash and collar really alters the bedroom dynamic in a dramatic way.  I don’t really need a whole lot of other implements when I put that thing on a hot specimen of manflesh. Okay, one of these would be great.  I mean, look how convenient that is!

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Ahem, as I was saying. So for the sake of poetic ritual, I’ll give you my 15 reasons that the collar and leash are a gynormous turnon:

  1. The glint of the leather as it slips across my palm
  2. The cold gloss of the buckle as the pin slips into the hole, clicking nice and tight
  3. The way his breathing changes knowing he is secure in my grip
  4. His willingness, from that point on, to do anything I please
  5. How the subtlest suggestion from my hand lifts his chin
  6. The quality of his attention now that he is under my control
  7. His silence a talisman of alertness
  8. The way his body yields
  9. The way he butterflies open
  10. The purity of his obedience as obvious as the strap around his neck
  11. That I do not need to tug, he knows my signals almost before I give them
  12. How easily I can arrange his details
  13. The way my flesh simmers at the taste of his earlobe
  14. How the lead melts down his back
  15. Sliding the loop along his pretty taint
  16. The tension a censor on his throat, a conduit to his very breath
  17. The salty smell as it mixes with his sweat

I’m planning on slapping one of these bad boys on a farmer this weekend, taking him for a trot around the lake.  More reports to follow.

 

 

I Told You to Be Quiet: A Lesbian Femme Domme Short Story

Author Note: This is rough, but it’s the load I was able to blow today.

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From the moment Devina saw this young thing enter the bar, tailing her girlfriends and looking so eager and awkward, it was suddenly mission-critical that Devina enslave this creature. Despite her girly conformity, the juicy-but-petite girl who flipped her long black hair too much was clearly into women.

Devina waited as one bozo after another approached this pod of young females, only to get the eyeroll and the cold, bare shoulder.

She kept waiting until the target’s girlfriends were drunkenly distracted and within 20 minutes, Devina was driving home with her hand on the girl’s thigh. And within 30 minutes, they were standing in her front room.

“I brought you home so I could use your body for my own pleasure, you understand that don’t you, little thing?”

The girl’s dark eyes skated around before finally settling on the floor. Her breathing shifted into a more rapid pattern and she quaked as she said, “Yes Miss.”

“That’s Mistress,” Devina lifted the girl’s chin, “and I’m just going to refer to you as my pussy, because when I’m done with you, baby, your whole body is going to be one big sopping pussy for me.”

A yip escaped the girl as Devina snatched her by the hair and pulled her to hands and knees. “Say that you understand.”

“I understand,” the girl whimpered.

“You do not speak unless I speak to you,” Devina shook the girl by the back of her head, “and when you do answer, you always finish with “Yes, Mistress.”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“Better!” Devina lurched down the hall, dragging the girl on all fours. “Strip and get on the bed with your legs in the air, now.”

“Yes Mistress?” The girl dropped her dress and shed her underwear. Flushed with embarrassment, she hiked her full, round thighs and calves in the air.

Devina took hold of her ankles, pushing them over the girl’s head so she could spit on her snatch. A gasp from the girl made Devina pause, one menacing eyebrow arched. Her close-cropped hair and gold nose ring made her high Egyptian cheekbones appear even more severe.

“Don’t you dare make all those fake sounds, either,” she threatened. “I hate that shit. You be silent while I work your hole and drink your pussy juice.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the girl bit down on her lip as Devina took hold of the pussy’s pussy, pinching her labia together and pulling on it.

“You wet already?”

“Yes, Mistress,”

“I knew you were a slut the moment I saw you walk into that dumbass bar. The way you were lookin’ around the room” – the girl closed her eyes and Devina’s finger wiggled its way between the fluffy little folds ­­–“ you wanted to get fucked in the worst way, for hours, am I right?”

“Yes, you are right, Mistress.”

“Say it, how much you want to get used and fucked right now.”

“Please use me, Mistress, do whatever you want to me, I need it so bad, I’m such a dirty whore.”

“That’s good, pussy. And no man in that whole limp-dick bar was going to do it.”

Devina sucks on one of her wet fingers and her eyes roll back at her new slave’s flavor. “Dear lord, you are so delicious, you had better stay wet for me, because I’m going to suck you dry.”

“Please, Mistress,” the pussy whined before receiving a sharp smack on her ample asscheek. Devina parted the girl’s legs and spread her lips before sinking tongue-deep into the girl’s cunt. She didn’t bother warming her up, just sucked and pulled and bit at her soaking gash.

After sampling her new morsel, Devina rolled her on her side, again cautioning her about making silly noises. “You just lie still and let me play with your holes. Reach back and spread your crack open for me.”

The girl nodded and mashed her lips together before she opened up her rump for her Mistress to taste. Devina rimmed the girl’s delicate little asshole, landing repeated smacks to her ass for quivering or whimpering.

“Fuck, your hole is so tasty, but so tight! I’m really going to have to work on you so that you can take my cock up in there.” She resumed her feverish slurping at the girl’s rectum, slipping a finger back into her and pounding at both of her openings. “Let me see those titties shake.” Now the girl couldn’t help herself. She let out a yell.

Devina withdrew and before the pussy could look back, she was on her belly, ass cranked over the edge of the bed, pinned by Devina’s weight on her upper back while a flogger came down hard, over and over, on the backs of her thighs and her spasming ass.

“Oh Mistress, I’m so sorry…” she fumbled but Devina ignored her, continuing to unleash on the girl’s exposed backside until all her flesh was cross-hatched with red. Devina’s succulent butt pressed against the back of the girl’s head, and her Mistress’s vj left a patch of lady juice between her shoulder blades.

“Do you need more? Or are you going to shut up now?”

“I can be quiet, Mistress, I swear.”

“Next time, I will gag you,” Devina dismounted, dragging the girl around and resuming her previous gorging without giving her a moment to catch her breath. “Hold still, hold your crack open and don’t you dare come.”

“Yes, Mistress, I can do it, I want to please you,” the pussy babbled. Devina smiled before planting her tongue once again on the girl’s asshole, fishing inside her with her nails, working her hand deeper.

“I suspect,” she scoffed between tongue thrusts, “that you can take quite a lot of cock up that sweet little hole, can’t you, slut?”

““Yes, Mistress,”

“But what you girls don’t understand: you are barking up the wrong tree. Aint no man who could do this to you,” Devina hummed as she worked, alternating fingers and tongue, lapping, shaking suddenly, sucking hard, biting , reaching up to grab a fistful of hair and crank the girl’s head back to tightly arch her spine. “Say you love getting your holes worked on so hard.”

“I love it when my Mistress works my holes so hard,” the girl cried, as which point Devina sank her nails into a big fistful of butt cheek. The girl jerked and when Devina’s face pulled away from her crack, she started to gush again, “I’m so sorry Mistress–” but it was too late.

“I told you to be quiet,” Devina said as she fastened the gag around the girl’s head.

A nasal yelp was all the girl could manage now. “Now I’m going to make it so you can’t squirm either.” Devina sighed as she quickly looped some fibrous rope around the girl’s neck and limbs, yanking her into a bind with her legs tucked in and her ass in the air.

“I’ll tell you why I hate that sound so much,” Devina explained as she worked, “it’s because of porn. That’s what men think women are supposed to sound like, and so that’s the sound that tells them they are doing something right,” she continued as she worked the knots into place, contorting the girl into a single mound of female flesh like an oyster on the half shell. “Women learn to make those sounds to please men. Well, I am not a man, I know the different between those fake sounds and real sounds. So for now, you are going to learn to be quiet.”

For the third round, Devina employed a bullet vibrator, swirling it over the girl’s pointy hard clit. Drool ebbed out onto the mattress and Devina laughed at the pussy’s mess. “What a dirty girl you are, you are making puddles all over my bed. You get to clean that up too.”

Devina rolled some oil onto the soft expanse of the girl’s punished ass while she continued to lick at her exposed bunghole. “Damn little pussy, I think I need to ride that pretty ass.” There was a pause, and the slut lay there, a knotted ball of girl parts waiting and panting through her nose. Devina didn’t take her eyes off the girl as she tugged on a harness, loaded up with a fat black cock, not bothering with lube.

“You’re so wet I don’t even need to lube up this cock, do I, baby girl?” again grabbing sweaty, tangled hair and thrusting the girl’s face deep into the bed. Devina’s hand glided over the firm globes of exposed haunches, for a moment lulling the girl into the soft sensation. “Shhh,” she soothed.

Right before slamming her phallus up inside the pussy.

“See?” Devina growled and pumped hard into the girl’s swollen slit, “You are just one big…open…sloppy…wet…pussy…now…” Devina grabbed the rope for leverage and went into an almost mechanical trance, thumping the girl’s underside with loud, slushy sounds. Her own bush was sopping her inner thighs as she gritted her jaw and hammered away.

“That’s what you needed so bad, little bitch?” Devina pulled the cock out of the girl’s pussy and pushed it into her ass. What would have been a wail, if not for the gag, erupted from the girl, but rather than stopping, Devina continued to rock out on her asshole while she brought down hard smacks on the poor creature’s creamy cheeks.

It went on so long and when the girl started to get dry, Devina would just resume spitting and licking at her holes. Finally, she pushed the girl off her, letting her fall sideways on the bed.

Ditching the harness, Devina sat down at the pussy’s face, unfastened the gag and fed her some water. She arranged the girl’s hair away from her streaked face and began untethering the rope.

The girl lay in a lump and Devina watched closely. After her breathing regulated, the girl turned her big dark eyes toward Devina.

“Mistress, may I speak?”

“Yes, pussy, you can speak.” She beamed openly.

“Please own me and let me keep serving you?” Devina snorted dismissively, but the girl nuzzled her face toward Devina’s crotch pleading, “Please Mistress, use my face for your pleasure, please…” to which Devina shrugged and guided the girl’s face in.

“Alright,” she clamped a strong hand on the back of the girl’s skull and ground her face straight into her sweltering cunt. She jutted her hips, violently fucking the girl’s whole face. “Make your mouth wide and suck my clit, ooh your lips are so soft, pussy, I’m about to squirt all over your pretty face.” Devina’s narrow waist and driving hips wound in circles, her hands holding the girl’s head stationary. “Open wider and suck harder pussy, you need to make me come,” Devina, twerked harder and the girl hummed and closed her eyes just in time before a hot stream of ejaculate coated her visage, momentarily blinding her and dripping along her hair. Devina howled, “drink it, pussy,” and the girl obeyed by guzzling the steamy liquid shooting out of Devina’s yoni.

“I will take you on. But only as a trial. What I did to you tonight is just foreplay.” The girl lifted up for a moment, her expression teary and blissful.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she said quickly before returning to her new Mistress’ musky bayou, her new happy place.

I Made the Lust: #Elust93 Cougar Femdom Short SubjugateU

*Licks lips, mops pussy with dirty tee shirt, clears throat: “The e(lust) 93 is out.  Pushing Past by Mrs. Fever will give you the loin-burn.

A sumptous quote from Disturbance:

“Mouth parted and eyes lightly shut, her limbs serene and relaxed, she entices me. Captivated by the subtle changes in her skin, her scent, she is triggering remembrance of a body. Of my body, long dismissed. She makes me want life.”

*Creaming on yet another tee shirt, cursing laundry in general.

You know me and political satire, the Steve Bannon blind date piece is a hoot.  Or more of a “HA!”

There are some really raunchy and delicious blogs in this issue, my pervert friends. A big thanks to the classy dames and dudes who make the e(lust) go. Time to run a load of tee shirts.

Elust 93

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Photo courtesy of Aurora Glory

Welcome to Elust 93

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #94 Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A dress to die for

Pushing Past

Necessary.

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Kink lite, Kink life
Disturbance

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

 

Erotic Fiction

The Contract
Speaking Truth to a Submissive Heart
Thunder
Subjugate U

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Jerking off to be banned under Texas bill
That Time Steve Bannon Destroyed Me
How to program a sex robot

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Effortless Connections & Harmonious Energy
Cialis
Playlist…

Poetry

A Love Affair, From A to Z: “A” – Always
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Scouting: A Lusty Limericks

Erotic Non-Fiction

Conflict(ed) part 2
It’s All About The Feet
TEASE
Oral Birthday Fun ~ The Glorious Sixty-Ninth!
I Will Do…
The subtle threesome

Events

Eroticon 2017 – I Herd U Lieks It

Body Talk and Sexual Health

photo shoots past and future

Subjugate U: A Femdom Erotic Short Story

Author’s Note: I wrote this after months of perving the haunting and elusive photos that grace the page on Mistress Subjugate U’s Fetlife profile.  She has generously allowed me to use her likeness in this post and if you are curious about the pictures that gave rise to this brief, fictitious impression, you may view her profile: SubjugateU

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There is something contained about her body: small, slight, muscled. Her shoulders are narrow and her breasts are small enough to point up and out. Defiant of gravity. Her waist is almost dainty with a toned, relaxed belly that curves softly down to her pelvic bowl. A-line dark hair straight and spiky at the tips always hangs over her face to cloud her identity. The photos of her, many of them black & white, bespeak an ineffable calm. When you imagine her scenes, they move slowly with low sustained moans, almost like everything is underwater, rhythmically swaying.

Unlike the thousands of photos of Dommes you’ve raked your eyes over, she is not adorned with a ton of shiny black latex and leather. She doesn’t wield elaborate toys or intimidating implements of pain. You can guess, though you haven’t seen her face, that she wears little makeup. She is usually clad in a suggestive top, a simple pair of panties, a strap on or she is completely nude.

Though every photo has a lurid, candid quality, one image, in particular, marks your mind. A young man, with a similar physique to you, face down on a bed, collared, legs spread wide enough that his thighs are almost in a single line, the smooth spheres of his ass offered up to her. She is poised over him in the photo, a simple, thin harness buckled around her hips and thighs. She is about to enter him with her phallus and the fingertips of one hand touch the young man’s asscheek. It’s her hand you notice: delicate, strong.

In another photo, also black & white, she walks a young woman on hands and knees outside in what looks like a meadow. In yet another, she is mounting one man’s face while another man tongues her nipples.

Your experience as a sub hasn’t gone well. Transactional, cold, even contrived. The one time you paid, it felt silly, like two grown up people in costumes, with the Domme badly playing her part. And then there was the one time you were abused, humiliated even though you had stated it wasn’t your thing. That almost turned you away from the prospect altogether. The weeks of depression following, resigned to the idea that vanilla sex was your only option – that was a dark place.

Looking at this woman makes you think again.

It is clear from her profile that she is married. But she accepts submissives.

You read her writing carefully. Because if you are going to do this, if you are going to try and serve her, it will sting if she rejects you. You really want to think you are worthy of her dominance.

Several days go by. Life seems to drift. You go through the motions of work and make calls and clean the house. At night, you touch yourself like you imagine she would touch you: taking you with that same dreamy quality. Her arousal, her pleasure, your end game.

She has an application form on her profile. From what she said, her husband would likely be reading it. You fill it out and stall, let more time go by. Then after an exhausting weekend where you dealt with work, family, and a draining call from your ex, you send it.

A week passes before you get a reply requesting more photos, background and possible times to meet. At the agreed upon time, you appear at a café, still in your work clothes, nervous but excited.

A young man approaches you and says your name. You realize this is her husband, her primary submissive and he is vetting you. He sits and you get a good look at his face for the first time. He’s got warm eyes, a mellow but cheerful voice. He talks to you about her and tells you her preferences, her current interests, how she likes a scene to go. You realize that by sending him, she is testing your humility.

You tell him what you noticed, about her words and photos, why you felt compelled. He nods and smiles with his gaze fixed on yours. He tells you he’s profoundly grateful for the paradoxical sexual freedom he experiences every day from being owned by her. This brings mist to your eyes and makes the nerves in your groin twinge. It’s not jealously, exactly, but longing.

A few days later, you receive an invitation to meet her. When you accept, you receive more instructions, including hygiene, protocol, directions to the location. You are made to understand that aside from your stated limits, you are handing her absolute control.

You arrive early and wait in your car. Despite the crisp winter air, you are perspiring a tad. You leave your phone in the vehicle and walk into the hotel. You reach the room and take a collecting breath. Then you knock.

Her husband opens the door and behind him, is a whole suite of rooms. There are women lounging on the furniture, where all the men are stripped and collared, serving or kneeling off to the side. The curtains are drawn back and the soft winter light glows cool. There is a young woman with a camera in her lap. She chats with some other ladies and pauses every now and then to snap a photo.

The Domme sits on the bed talking with another woman when you walk in, and when her husband calls her name, she turns toward you.

Her dark hair frames her angular face and her effulgent eyes seem to latch on and draw you in. Her smile is a pouty crook and her eyebrows flicker as she says your name. You give her a shy smile and when she offers her hand, you take it and plant a light kiss on the fine flesh above her knuckles. You call her ‘Mistress’ before you are inclined to look away.

You are electrified by the sensation of this Domme’s gaze taking you in, made even more intense by her female companion’s. Her husband slips away and she tells you to come with her. She stands and you give her a pleased smile. She is wearing a lacy top and simple skirt, completed by some soft leather boots. She guides you to a room and when you are inside, she shuts the door.

This is the test of whether you are worth her attention, her energy. She tells you to undress as she sits and asks you some questions, but mostly she is quiet. When you have disrobed and stand before her naked, she is silent for several minutes.

Her quiet lights up your nerve endings. In the same way it must feel like to appear before a monarch, the power in the room is concentrated in her, and applied to you, without her even moving or speaking. She tells you to turn around, which you do. Her hands, those hands you had examined in her photos, are coursing over your flesh. She tells you to relax and allow yourself to get examined. You comply and concentrate on her instruction.

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Even in heels, she must cock her head back to look up at you as she circles around you. She tells you that she would like to see how you serve and that you are even more  handsome than your photos suggest.  She says this as she binds your cock tightly.

It’s almost like this simple act of being constrained redirects the currents in your body. She is moving you with very little effort. From behind, she pushes you toward the big picture window and puts your hands against the glass. She adjusts your position so that your face is turned, limbs are wide and the front of you is exposed. The room is several stories up, but not so high that anyone looking up wouldn’t see a naked young man pressed against the glass with his cock tethered.

A cold bolt of fear travels through you as you wonder if she is going to humiliate you. She said she wouldn’t but doesn’t this exposure count? You sense her coming in closer and the pressure of her body eases you forward so that now your chest and bound cock make contact with the cold wall of the window. Her breasts and belly slide along your back so that her warmth is like a counterweight to the cold. She tells you to stay still and then she retreats and the door clicks closed.

You look down and realize that there is only sloping hillside mottled with dirty snow below. No one can see you. Your breath blots the glass as you wait.

You hear the door open and sense that she isn’t alone. Once again, her simmering surfaces light on your back body. Her lips glide over your shoulder blade and the gentle buzz of a camera elicits a new sensation in you: you are now the subject of the frame, and the object of her attention.

She moves you, arranges you and something in your brain goes soft. When she turns you, you look at her and the expression on her face is wanton. The buzz-click of the camera drifts around and a slack smile plays on your face.

You may not get her collar all to yourself, you may never serve her again, but as she stokes you, spreads you, enters you, rides you, you know now that she is the kind of Domme you want. Now you know that is is possible to do this work, to train in order to sharpen your essential self. It doesn’t matter what she does to you in this moment. All that matters is that she is real.

 

 

 

The Craft of Erotica Writing and the Condom Conundrum

Disclaimer: I don’t really come to a conclusion on this, but I want to unpack it and hopefully solicit some insight from other writers and readers.

In CA during the last election cycle, there was a measure on the ballot that would enforce condom use for pornography.  It didn’t pass but,  I am personally in favor of it since these are real people with real bodies and the spread of communicable diseases like HIV and gonorrhea are also, you know, real.

However, in the land of fiction, I feel very differently.  We writers are driving a fantasy and condoms feel like turning on floodlights in the middle of a sex scene. I don’t know about you but I hate condoms, I don’t know anyone who loves them, but we put up with them like those Texas tee-shirts we put over the toilet so we aren’t sitting in someone else’s pee.

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I want my characters to live in a world where they don’t have to think about it, where then can just embody desire.  Helps that most of my work involves strapons and pegging so that condoms don’t really weigh in as much.  But still, even in the vanilla stuff I write, I’m trying to provide a frictionless experience in the mind of the reader.  The imagination is the one place where we shouldn’t have to worry about wrapping it up.

When I posted New CollarI accompanied it with a super-hot photo of a ridiculously hung young man collared and chained, with the chain ascending up and out of the frame.  Someone commented that this could be construed as a safety concern, to which I responded, “fuuuuck you.”  Let’s just go ahead and give this artist the benefit of the doubt that he or she wasn’t endangering the subject matter and bring our attention back where it should be, to his enormous racehorse cock.

Mmmm.  Huh?  What was I saying?  Oh yeah…

To zig-zag back, there are exceptions.  Sometimes it makes sense for a character to wrap it up, to illustrate that, well, he’s the kind of dude who wraps it up.  If it’s a first-time story or if there is some reason that the condom acts as a foil to move the plot along.  Ok, I’m cool with that too.

Erotica writers, readers?  What do you think about the use of condoms in stories?  Any strong opinions?

My Inarguable Opinion About Cock Shots – The Ochre Muse

I discovered The Oche Muse aka Spanish Red on Fetlife about a year ago, but I was dee-lighted to find her blog recently and this post made me hoot, and here’s why.

I got a “hey” on OKC yesterday from a D-bag 29 yr-old whose primary photo was the standard gym selfie, complete with sleeveless shirt. I usually ignore these thin missives, but sometimes I get it in my head that I am going to teach these young bucks a lesson. And this was too good to pass up.

On the counter in front of him was a water bottle with some pink liquid in it that I imagine was smart water or some such shit.  Anyway, the bottle was positioned right over his junk and the pink liquid made it look very much like a dildo.  When I pointed it out to him and asked if it was deliberate, he responded 12 minutes later in a predictably neanderthal way,”why, does it turn you on?”

“Sure, if you are indicating that you would like me to violate you with a pink dildo, than yes.”  He blocked me.  Yay!  (patting myself on the back)

I have a longer post on the cock shot in the works but in the meantime, I hope this post cracks you up like it did me.

 

With all due respect to Madeleine from Tumblr’s Critique My Dick Pic, my opinion about what makes a cock shot spectacular is the correct one (from my completely objective perspective, obviously). B…

Source: My Inarguable Opinion About Cock Shots – The Ochre Muse

The Divide Between Film and Porn: Is there anything in between?

Great post by erotica writer Jack Fisher.  Worth a read for filmmakers and writers who are bored with porn.

A while back, I talked about the box office reception that “50 Shades Darker” received and the implications this had for the future of erotica/romance in movies. In my assessment, as someone with a keen interest in the future of erotica/romance, I painted a mildly optimistic picture. I had good reason to. After all, “50 […]

via Why Quality Erotica/Romance Movies Are (Almost) Impossible — Jack Fisher’s Official Publishing Blog