We’re gonna have another serious Fetish Friday this month,because I’ve left some strings hanging and people have been asking about when I’m going to finish up with the second part of situations that are rape, but people don’t think of them as rape. This is the second part of the “very special episode” of Fetish Friday. While there may be a couple chuckles, and while there may be a few off color comments, the fact is today’s post is deadly fucking serious.
We’re gonna have a serious Fetish Friday this month, it’s going on today and tomorrow, and we’re gonna have one for an important reason. This is the “very special episode” of the Fetish Friday, you know, the one where all the readers become addicted to a stimulant in order to study, or where the neighbor takes pictures of the bos, or where a main character makes a new friend who’s being abused at home. If you want the full effect of this post, I suggest you find some heart-warming late-80’s, early-90’s background music to play over it as you read, because while there may be a couple chuckles, and while there may be a few off color comments, the fact is today’s post is deadly fucking serious.
To that end, let me tell you right now: If discussions of rape are going to trigger you, you need to stop reading and go find something else to do. It’s cool, I get it, we’ll still be around next week and you’re not going to miss anything big. But it’s probably best you don’t read today’s post.
Because today? Today you little shitstains, I’m gonna talk about rape and consent.
What’s that? Among the cries of “Please MORE” and “Oh DADDY” the alarm clock is going off deep in the dark basement dungeon letting me know it’s time to bring out the gimp for another installment of Fetish Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor. So clench those cheeks tight, get the riding crops ready, make sure all sex swings are firmly attached to load-bearing joists, and let’s lube up and dive down the rabbithole to take a look at all things perverted and just a little darkly exciting this month as we talk about “interspecies erotica” and the considerations and complications that may arise therefrom.
Now, before we go too deep into the legal ramifications of giving a dog a bone, I want to be absolutely and completely clear: many times in these posts I tend to refrain from moralizing with folks. Generally, my statement is “If everyone’s consenting, it’s not illegal, and nobody’s getting hurt, fucking have at. None of my goddamn business.” This post is special, though, because we need to be clear on a couple important points before I even start tossing the kitty litter around: (1) for the vast majority of the readers out there, the activity I’m talking about today is fucking illegal. You can and will be arrested for being involved with it; (2) I’m of the personal opinion that an animal which cannot affirmatively state consent to a sexual act in a recognizable language can’t consent to playing “knick knack paddywhack” with you; (3) people can be hurt during this activity, people can die during this activity, and both of those fucking things have definitely happened. Given that the practice of beastiality and/or zoophilia involves an act that, when consumated, violates all of my “Big Three Don’t-Give-A-Fuck Requirements,” I’m gonna go on record to say the next part.
Don’t fuck your pets.
But illegal or legal, morally correct or incorrect, reprehensible or acceptable, this shit happens. So, to that end, we’re gonna go ahead and start talking about what happens when you believe your cat likes a little more than chicken and liver, and it ain’t Meow Mix you’re about to deliver.
Welcome to the second Fetish Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor where I’m going to walk you leather and latex clad fetishists through a legal issue surrounding the world of, quite literally, Fucking kinks. So Bigs, cover the eyes of your littles or send them somewhere to go play, owners go crate your pups, and scat enthusiasts, put a plug in it and hold it for later because this morning I’m gonna run my mouth like a bad boy about legality of consent in a BDSM atmosphere, namely, does consent remove the risk of legal action.
Hold on to your paddled-red asscheeks, folks, because the answer is “Probably not.”
I am such a glutton for punishment. Last week I wrote about the furries, and now I’m speaking at a furry convention next week. My Twitter feed has been taken over by animals. Someone’s making a fucking fursuit. This is my life now. Seriously. This is my life now.
But it got me thinking: maybe I should make this a thing? I’m already locked into giving the furries (who are great fucking people by the way) one post a month focusing specifically on their legal issues, which we will call “Furry Friday” and will be doing on the last Friday of each month. Why not dive into some other shit on Fridays that nobody else in the blawgosphere is really talking about?
Hence what I am now calling “Fetish Friday,” the first installment of which is today and which will continue until morale improves in general. Third Friday of every month…which is today. And today, today I want to talk about something I read about on Twitter:
Master Slave Contracts. Because I fucking love contracts, and the fact these fucking things exist just blew my tiny little mind right the fuck away.
So, that said, let’s chat.