Category Archives: BDSM

An Open Letter to Wannabees

Dear Wannabees of the World,

We as a BDSM community are generally pretty accepting (though albeit a suspicious bunch). I can totally see why you’d want to land in our open arms and surround yourself by all that we as a people have to offer. Shit, there’s naked people, sexy clothes (on people of all genders!), fun play, public sex, and generosity and kindness that know no bounds. I can see how this could be misconstrued to people on the outside as there being lots of opportunity for exploitation – no, not that exploitation. (Side note – the only time I have ever felt exploited was when I allowed myself to feel as such.)

In my porn browsing I have come across all types of porn, good and bad. Type in “bondage” to any porn tube video site and you’ll come across a lot of decent stuff but also a lot of really, really bad stuff. Throwing a cheap collar on the girl doesn’t make it a “bondage” porn. Anal doesn’t make it a “bondage” porn. Spanking someone four times super lightly doesn’t make it a “bondage” porn. I have a lot of bones to pick with porn in general, but lately my main one has been porn producers using what you can tell are “vanilla actors” in a “bondage” movie. Now I’m sure the actors knew what they were getting into ahead of time and I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, but something tells me that someone (namely the producers) probably threw in an extra bit of money to convince an otherwise recalcitrant actor to agree to be in such a film. But when it comes time to actually perform? Oh man. It’s painful to watch. Not in that good way either. You can tell they’re not enjoying it even in the slightest and listening to the (generally) girl bitch and moan the whole time does not make for an enjoyable viewing experience. Quite frankly, I’d rather read the Sunday New York Times’ editorial section than watch a bad “bondage” porn performance.

I have seen a growing number of otherwise vanilla people try to claim an interest in “fetish” or “bondage” simply because they think it will get them somewhere. Perhaps it’s the old thought process of “Oh, she shows her tits in pictures so clearly she’s an easy slut” which motivates some. Perhaps it’s the lure of easy money in a large, but niche market. Those of us who genuinely have an interest in the things we claim to be interested in can sniff them out from miles away. I’m not saying I’m the most “hardcore” of players. There’s stuff I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. On the other hand, a lot of what interests me could be seen as too twisted. That’s okay. I repeat – that’s okay. We all have our own interests and while I may not agree or like yours, I’ll defend your right to be interested in it as long as it’s safe, sane, consensual and legal.

If BDSM isn’t your thing, that’s okay. If you only like missionary sex in the dark with your socks on, that’s okay … though I’d like to introduce you to a Kama Sutra book. There is a world of options out there. BDSM isn’t for everybody and please don’t belittle our interests and pretend you’re “hardcore into” it if you’re not. The first time we bring up anything a little to twisted for you, you’ll be running for cover. We’ll laugh and move on with our day. Because that’s the best thing about the BDSM community – there’s always someone out there who will share your twisted interest, even if they’re few and far between.

An Undercover Kinkster Primer

This is a post that is a long time in the making. It’s something that has been rattling on the fringes of my thoughts for awhile now, mostly because I’ve seen people I interact with get very confused about some of my actions, inactions, mannerisms and motivations. It’s about time that I actually set down on virtual paper a little bit about me and exactly what to expect if you’re interested in playing with me. Warning – this will be epically long.

If I’ve directed you here in during the scope of negotiation or discussion about getting involved in some way, please read this piece in its entirety. I know it’s long but there are some really good things in here that will be very helpful and will avoid lengthy discussions or misunderstandings. 

My Mentality 

Playing with me is a privilege, plain and simple. In my time in BDSM and since I’ve been sexually active, there haven’t been many people I’ve played with. I don’t want to embarrass myself or seem like some horribly green newbie, but suffice it to say the average kinkster has probably played with more people in one year than I have in my kinkster career. I’m okay with that. I’m selective about my play and sex partners because I have to be. 
Why is that? Because I am hurt so easily. Not physically (though I am beginning to have doubts about the hardiness of my bum), but more emotionally. I get attached to people very easily. I’m quick to fall for someone and quicker to be infatuated by them. Someone that shows me any interest or attention is someone who I am susceptible to falling for. If they’re smart, well-spoken, have similar ideals, and play in a remotely similar style as I do, watch out heart because you’re going down. It’s something I’ve had to deal with frequently and something that nine times out of ten comes back to bite me in the ass … and not in the good way. Because of this tendency to fall hard and quick, I am very hesitant to express those feelings. It sounds like almost a paradox there. It’s true though. I’ve been accused of coming off as cold and distant when I do like someone but that’s because I’m trying so hard not to go from zero to sixty with them and look like a giggling schoolgirl. Most people don’t fall as fast as I do and I want to give that person an appropriate amount of time to express some feelings about me back. 
Similarly, I’m very shy when it comes to expressing those feelings. Ask me flat out if I’m into you and I’ll probably beat around the bush, hem and haw, and maybe if you’re lucky ultimately admit to those feelings. Where does that come from? Years and years of rejection. I have literally lost count the number of times that I’ve expressed interest in someone to the tune of “I just want you to know that I like you more than a friend” and that’s literally the last I’ve seen or heard from them. While that has taught me that a lot of people weren’t worthy of those feelings in the first place, it also has taught me to not tell someone for fear of being rejected. Anybody who has known me for any extended period of time knows that rejection is my huge trigger point. It’s what will bring me to my knees faster than a swift kick. It emotionally cripples me when I even get the whiff of something that could remotely be construed under the worst possible conditions as rejection. Even things most people would never dream of as being rejection can be twisted and perverted in my head into someone rejecting me. The lesson here to people is if you’re interested in me – please express it. Tell me. Tell me I’m wanted and that while you may be taking longer than I am to get or be interested in me, if there’s even a remote chance you will be interested in me, it will get there. 
If you do express that interest in me, I will treat you like royalty. No kidding here. I will do your dishes, clean your house, rub your back, get you presents, send you notes, and generally make you feel like the most important person in the entire world. Why is that? Well, simply put – I want you to be happy. I want you to like me. Easier said than done sometimes but that’s ultimately what it comes down to. I’m not trying to make you feel weird, put out or force you to return the favor (though that would definitely be appreciated). It’s just who I am. Long ago I decided my purpose in life was to make people happy. This is how I show it to people that I’m interested in. 
I will get emotionally attached to you if we talk, play, or become friends. It may be on a deeper level than you’re comfortable with, and simply put if that’s something you would rather avoid, you need to tell me upfront so I can save the emotional wreckage for someone who will actually appreciate that attachment.

My Communication

I need it. I crave it. There is no substitute for it. Everybody stresses communication as the most important thing in any relationship. Often times the people who are its biggest proponents end up being the ones worst at it. I will admit that I talk a lot. Often times about totally meaningless stuff and stuff unrelated to any immediate need, want, or desire. There’s a fine line between ignoring that talking and humoring me. My love of talking and communicating is something that is inbred in me. Shit, I’m Italian. It’s what we do. We can turn a 30 minute meal into a three hour event just by opening our mouth and talking about our day. 
Communication for me goes beyond simply talking about random stuff though obviously. It’s telling me your thoughts about me, you, your life, my life, our life, etc. It’s telling me when you’re thinking about me and what you’re thinking about. Okay, sure you don’t have to tell me everything because then there’d be no mystery. But if you’re out somewhere and see something that reminds you of me, it’s taking a picture and showing me. It’s the occasional “just thinking of you” text message. It’s taking more than five seconds to read anything I send you and either dismiss it, not respond, or respond with something unrelated or something short. A 160-character text should probably not get a “ok” response unless that’s all that’s warranted. A three page email shouldn’t get nothing in return. I guess this is the part where I will fully admit to being attached at the hip to my cellphone. You can always reach me and should do so generously. We are all busy people with busy lives and I accept that, but a quick hello says so much more than what you’re actually saying. It makes my heart and soul fly. 

My Play and Hard Limits

This part is hard for me to write because my play style is very fluid and depends a lot on the person I’m playing with. I feed off their energy and interests. Sure, I have some basic things I’m interested in and like to incorporate into my repertoire, but I’m still open to trying new things and seeing what does interest me. Case and point – up until recently I had a hard limit of any kind of breath play. It just made me too nervous. Then I played with someone who allowed me to let my guard down and we incorporated a little choking into our playing such that I was comfortable with it. While the more extreme side is definitely still in my red zone, I can comfortably say that it’s something I’m exploring and enjoying that exploration.

In general, I fall on the submissive side. I have my moments where I want to feel dominant and enjoy trying on that role, but more often than not it feels very forced for me. It’s more like being an actor than really being myself. My job is such that I have to make decisions and being the enforcer of rules all day. I don’t want to come home or have playtime and have to do those same things. When presented with a set of options such as “Do you want to eat at [insert restaurant name] or [insert restaurant name]?” generally my response will be “Which one do you prefer?” This is not to say that I’m indecisive or apathetic. Often times I really do prefer one or another but ultimately having to make that decision is something I would rather not do. This phenomena is not new to me or only in my BDSM life. I’ve been doing this all my life and annoying people when they ask me that aforementioned restaurant question. Something as simple as “Where do you want to eat?” literally creates such indecision in me that it paralyzes me sometimes. This is the place where a dominant personality steps in.

I’ve always been naturally submissive though you wouldn’t know it by interacting with me on a daily basis. I’ve had friends literally stare at me in disbelief when I tell them I’m submissive, simply saying “no way in hell.” Yep, it’s very true. Take me on a journey, a ride, hold my hand and take me where you want to take me. Make me serve you. Push my limits (while still respecting them of course). I will fetch you drinks, be your assistant, iron your clothes, hold your toys while you hurt another person. On the flip side of this, I am not a push over by any means. I’m probably one of the most obstinate submissives you’ll ever meet. I definitely like things my way and having a say in things that don’t paralyze me with indecision. I’ve lived alone most of my adult life and as such definitely have my own way of doing a lot of little household things that most people would probably find weird or unusual. That’s just me. One aspect of this is that I’m really anal retentive when it comes to cleaning and organizing certain things. It makes me physically uncomfortable when things in my immediate surroundings are untidy or unkempt. Stacks of stuff strewn every which way cause me to twitch and want to pick up. Drinks in the fridge need to have logos or labels facing outward. Bathroom toiletries need to be lined up in an orderly fashion on the sink. Little things like that.

Tying this back into BDSM play here, I feel it’s the dominant’s/top’s responsibility to respect those little idiosyncrasies about me. Sure, there’s something to be said about making me uncomfortable on some level. There’s a club in Chicago that has framed photos on the wall just a little off kilter purposefully to make those OCD-type people uncomfortable. Something like that I can respect and see the logic in. Something like knowing about my quirks and exploiting them to the point that it causes me to lose respect for you is something entirely different.

If I tell you I’m uncomfortable with something to the point of it being a hard limit, you must respect that. We can talk about it in a safe setting where there’s no judgment and no worry about pushing those hard limits and I will be okay with this. Often times things that are hard limits are things that are just misunderstood. Rational thinking and discussion could very well lead those me changing my opinion of these things. Until I’ve actually said though that something is no longer a hard limit of mine, you need to respect that though.

I’ve watched a lot of scenes in my time and have listened to a lot of people wax poetic about the idea of subspace, ropespace or something similar to those things. I’ll tell you right now that very, very rarely do I get anywhere close to those things. My brain simply cannot shut off. Maybe that’s why I’m in BDSM – the search for that one thing that will shut my brain off and allow me to simply exist for nothing more than the moment. It’s happened a few times. As a presenter once said (and I paraphrase), “When you get a sub into subspace, they’ll pretty much agree to anything you ask. More whipping? Yes. Harder paddling? Of course. Cut off a limb? Why not.” Getting to that point is part of my quest. I yearn for it. Crave it. Hunt for it. Reach for it. I have literally gotten to the point that I am sobbing during playing because I feel it so close but can’t quite reach it. It’s not an easy thing for me to handle that I haven’t ever been to that place. I liken it to listening to my friends talk about the most amazing baked goods and sitting there being gluten intolerant. Some things are just not possible for me. I hope at one point to get into that place, though I worry that I may not want to leave it.

My Aftercare

With someone such as me who is so into communicating, you’d think I’d be very good about communicating my needs after playing, right? Totally wrong. It’s one of the things I’m terrible at and one of the things I’m demanding from here on out I be better at. Aftercare isn’t something that is negotiable here. It isn’t something that can be glossed over or tossed out like a used cum rag. It is 100% necessary for my mental well being. When I don’t get the aftercare I require, my emotions spiral downward. I can go from okay to not wanting to move for hours on end very quickly if aftercare is neglected. 
Some point can get along fine with minimal aftercare or a short period of drop. I can’t. Plain and simple. After a scene or playing, I go through a few phases. There’s the immediate adrenaline rush of the scene and immediate adrenaline drop right after. Physically I get a lot of the typical symptoms I’ve seen other bottoms get. I get really cold, shiver, mentally out of it, need water, etc. My mind is still cloudy and while the cloudy is something I prefer to sort through on my own, the physical needs must be addressed. Hold me close, pet my hair, look me in the eye (even if I’m shy and look away) and tell me I did a good job. Keep me warm and let me feel your body. This is the crucial few moments where physical bonding means more than what’s going on around you. People might want to come up and talk to us, but push them away. In that moment I’m depending on my dominant/top to be my protector and white knight. I can’t do it myself. This period of time could range from 10 minutes to an hour after a scene. 
The second period I need care is much longer. This is where the previous mention of feelings of rejection come in if I’m not taken care of properly. My emotional drop has previously lasted for upwards of four days after a really intense scene. On average I usually range between two to three days I need emotional and intellectual support. During this time it’s imperative we stay in touch. While we physically may not be close due to any number of reasons, this doesn’t mean you can assume I’m okay and doing fine. Not only this, but I typically reach out during this time in weird way. I won’t come right out and say “I’m not okay and need help.” My brain has been trained to not want to feel like a burden to anyone. I will say stuff like “I’m okay but I’m down” or “I’ve had a rough day mentally.” Please see this as what it is – a cry for help. When I get to the point that I’m actually saying “I need help” you will know it’s gotten really bad. During this time, it is imperative you make me feel wanted and important to your life. Make me feel like my needs are important and you’re paying attention to me.
I was talking to a dominant friend of mine a few days ago and he made some very good suggestions that I hadn’t really considered before about my aftercare. He suggested that my aftercare needs were a lot in line with my little girl side that I have. That the holding, caring, wanting to feel needed, were very similar to what my little girl side needs even when not playing. That after scenes and in that recovery period I have I go into my little girl shell very intensely. I think that’s a very good way to look at it and I’m really happy he suggested that. 
Of all the things that I could stress as important, I think aftercare is perhaps the most important. Even great play and sex will lose all meaning if I don’t get the aftercare I need after. It will lead to feelings of rejection, resentment and ultimately may cause the relationship (whatever it may be) to fall apart in its entirety.

My Little Side

I have two very distinct sides to me – an adult, very capable side and a little girl, very dependent side. They are sides that are co-dependent and intertwined. During the day I’m the capable adult who can make decisions and be in charge with no problems or questions asked. That’s simply what I have to do. I can put on the big person suit and heels and feel in control. When I get off work though I don’t want to be in that position any more. The little girl part of me wants to be taken care of, wants to be swaddled and loved. I want to sit on Daddy’s lap and have my hair played with. Play video games and eat chicken nuggets. 
I’ve talked before here and elsewhere about my little girl side and how important it is to me. It’s a vital piece of my psyche and helps me maintain my sanity. I think if I didn’t have that “out” so to speak I would probably be a lot crazier than I already am. Anybody who plays with me or gets involved with me needs to be okay with that side. Actually they need to be more than okay with it. They need to actually foster and encourage it. I have a lifetime of stuffed animals in my apartment that would freak out a less than committed partner. One of the threshold questions I ask potential playmates is if they’re okay with the fact that I have twelve stuffed animals on my bed every night when I sleep and if they’re okay with the fact that I have to be holding at least two of them. One little mini penguin goes down my shirt and the ever important koala gets held in my arms. If at least those two stuffed animals are not “allowed,” then I have to seriously ask myself if this is someone that I’m really interested in continuing on with.
Being a little girl allows me to not worry about stupid adult stuff that will drag me down and get in my way. It allows me to be me without worrying about what’s going to happen tomorrow at work, my budget, gas prices, global warming or any other shit. I can focus and have that escape from things that otherwise weigh me down. 

My Reservations

This is by far not a comprehensive outline of things people need to know if they want to play or be involved with me. I’m sure later today I’ll have an a-ha moment and think to myself “why didn’t I talk about [fill in the blank]?!” So I guess what that means is you will just need to get to know me. I’m not everybody’s cup of tea and certainly not everybody is capable or willing to handle me. That’s okay. I don’t need to be perfect for everybody; I do need to be perfect for whoever wants to play with me. There are some things I can work with and work around, but there are also some other things that absolutely cannot be compromised on. Most of the things I’ve laid out here are things I would be very hesitant to compromise on except in very rare circumstances. 
Will this primer evolve and change as I do? Of course. But for right now, it’s a pretty darn good outline of who I am as a person, a submissive, a bottom, and a little girl. If you have any questions, please ask. I’m an open book and more than willing to share my experiences and stories with you.

The Return to Kink Play

Any of you who have been following my blog for any length of time will know that I’ve been out of the kink scene for … well, longer than I wanted to be. Sure, I’ve been active online through my own various perversions, Fetlife and porn of course, but actual in person play? Oh geeze. The last time I had any good, solid play was last April when I went to SINSations in Leather in Chicago.

The last couple of months I have been on the hunt for suitable playmates who have compatible interests with my own. I thought finding someone who enjoyed dishing out a good spanking and beating wouldn’t be so hard in the third largest city and surrounding area in the United States. Right? Wrong. Finding someone I want to play with is work on so many levels. Besides the obvious trust issues, it has to be someone I have an intellectual and physical attraction to. That alone is a daunting task. They also need to share at least some of my kinks and have a willingness to push through some of the bratiness and little girl behavior that I sometimes exhibit when playing.

Needless to say, it felt like a daunting task. I found someone I trust … then found out he liked kink but not beating. Okay next. I found someone willing to beat me, but with little time to do so when my schedule afforded me the opportunity. Next again. My biggest stumbling point was my anxiousness in actually meeting someone “new.” That could go wrong in any number of ways! (Kink PSA – if someone doesn’t have recommendations from people you even remotely know, it’s best to take things slow and meet up somewhere public.)

I found myself conversing with someone I’d met at SINSations and enjoyed the company of while there. He’s a friend of my friends, well respected and pretty public on the scene. I played my cat and mouse game, leaving hints, suggestive comments and at times outright requests. Finally he said, “Do you want to play?” Thanks to busy schedules and random things, it took some time to finally line up the day.

I soon found myself sitting outside of a “seedy” hotel by O’Hare International Airport. The idea was a rendezvous at what you’d normally consider a seedy hotel and make it feel all gritty and “wrong.” One of my kinks is a bit of degradation play and I loved this idea. We’d talked about some things that were possibilities for play, but quite honestly I just wanted someone else to decide these things. There are a few things that are no-gos for me, hard limits they’re called. No hair pulling. No ball gags (in general.) No extensive bruising in areas I couldn’t cover. I’m sure I’m forgetting some here.

He was lovely through dinner, as expected. When we got back to the room though, I was ready. I’d prepped myself mentally and physically to get beat and my bum was so ready to feel the warm sting of pain. I’ve always found that transitioning from conversation to full out play to be an awkward thing, but thankfully simply bending over to look in my purse for lipbalm turned into getting my ass felt up and fingernails raked across my back. I still have delicious marks three days later from all the scratches.


Side note – You’ll forgive me here if I’m a little sketchy on the details. I was a bit preoccupied to really digest what was going on, but I will give you the highlights. 

Since he’s a rope guy and I’m interested in playing with rope more often than once a year, my wrists were bound so I couldn’t wiggle too much. As he’d told me ahead of time, I got thrown on the bed and my bum got inspected. The glorious return to hands and fists pounding on me. How I missed thee. My body has changed a lot since the last time I played and he found new areas that I didn’t know would be tender and sweet. I guess losing 15 pounds in a year will do that to a person. When I flinched or squirmed after he hit a particular area, that was the cue to focus.

Bound and immobilized into the fetal position, my ass soon became the target for a roll of fun toys. I know someone of them thanks to familiar sensations but I couldn’t tell you exactly given that I was face down in the bed. Floggers, paddles, fists and hands – oh my! Cold lube was spread on my asshole and something cold and hard was pressed in. To my great delight it was a delicious anal hook. Yes, I after admiring them for years, my anal hook cherry was finally popped. It was roped to my wrist and ankle restraints such that when I squirmed too much it would effectively make the hook pull tighter. More blows ensued and I felt the hot glow of familiarity. My apple bottom was soon becoming a red delicious apple, borrowing a phrase from my tormenter.

Here’s where I make another PSA. Anal play in real life isn’t like porn, people. Weird things happen. Embarrassing things happen. One of the most mortifying moments of my life happened. Will I tell you? Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that. The sign of a good top is taking that embarrassment I was feeling and turning into mood for the scene. Seamlessly putting me in that shy, little girl mode that made me blush bright red and apologize what felt like a thousand times. It was a credit to my playmate that he was able to do that and do that well. Am I still embarrassed? Hell yes. Honestly I think I’ll be embarrassed about it for years.

He stood me up and proceeded to pay attention to my forgotten front side. Punches, scratches, slaps and all kinds of other blows landed on my supple breasts and flesh. The upper sides of my breasts and armpit area are still sore. One thing that was lovely about this particular “seedy” hotel room was that there were several mirrors in there, probably more than you’d think for a low budget hotel. There’s nothing like watching someone pound away on your flesh than watching it in a mirror. It’s a fun combination of objectification, degradation and submission.

It seemed we were winding down and we both agreed it was probably better to stop. His theory? Have a few slower, introductory scenes before having longer phenomenal scenes. My pounding, burning ass wasn’t disagreeing and neither was my mind. We cuddled and chatted, exchanging stories of weird things that had happened to us in our regular lives and kink lives. Inevitably parting ways with a hug and an agreement that it was fun, I was on my merry little way back to life in white bread America. My ass felt every bump in the road during my drive, by the way.

Days later I’m left with lovely purple bruises and a wonderful ache in my ass. I’m also left with a desire to do it again and do it more in depth. We didn’t play with a lot of the d/s themes I’m looking for still, but that takes time. Building that connection and that chemistry doesn’t happen overnight and certainly doesn’t happen the first time you play with someone. It’s a slow give and take. For me, it’s a process of learning and trusting to give up power. It’s about finding myself in the mindset to want to do so.

Would I play with this person again? Yes, very much so. My bruises tell me he definitely has the ability and skill I’m looking for and glimpses of the dominance I crave. But much like life, it’s an evolution. Nobody knows where things may take us or when schedules may line up again.

My return to kink and impact play was enjoyable and only left me wanting more. That adrenaline rush is addictive. I’ve long admitted I am addicted to the pound of a fist, the woosh of a flogger, the impact of a paddle and the throw of a glance. The only question is when I’ll get my next hit of my addiction.

An Eternity of Struggles

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” – Eleanor Roosevelt (1937)

I’ve long struggled with the concept of self esteem. It’s such a cliched thing to admit to nowadays. It seems like everybody and their cousin has “self esteem issues.” Pick a new issue, I want to say. But then I realize I would be telling myself that as well.

When I was growing up, I didn’t have siblings to play with. I grew up essentially an only child from the age of about six onward thanks to an older brother who decided he no longer wanted to be apart of our family around then. He is ten years older than me and at that time, everybody was focused on him and his problems. Nobody seemed to notice the scared, quiet, emotional little girl. I know my parents tried their best to shield me and give me the attention I needed to grow up into an emotionally healthy adult, but I’m not sure it was always what I needed.

Teenage years were just that – teenage years. Any young girl will tell you that she’s not confident with herself, but my issues went beyond what most girls probably had. I was painfully shy, almost to the point of not being able to converse with people. I spent three years of high school not even going into the lunch room, choosing instead to hide in the newspaper office which I considered my refuge from people. I worked for the basketball team my junior and senior years of high school and was terrified to even walk out on the court during games because people might see me. I didn’t go to any dances, didn’t ask anybody on dates, didn’t get asked out on any myself and sure as hell didn’t consider myself on par with “the popular girls.”

College turned out to be no different. I was a tomboy in every sense of the word, preferring my basketball clothes to most any girly thing. I had makeup and pretty clothes, but I didn’t know how to use them and most of the time they sat in my closet, ready for the day when I would become more comfortable with myself.

It’s only been recently that I’ve felt more comfortable in my own skin, perhaps in the last two to three years. I guess I’m what you call a “late bloomer.” I’ve realized how to use the hoards of makeup I had amassed, but never bothered to use. I figured out high heels make my butt look good and that clothing should be tighter, rather than looser if I wanted to show off any type of feminine shape. As the saying goes, “Tight enough to show you’re a woman; loose enough to show you’re a lady.”

The self esteem issues are still there, no doubt. I struggle with the concept of self worth most, I think. That I’m worth someone’s time, someone’s energy, someone’s love and someone’s attention. I shouldn’t have to beg for any of those things and I sure as shit shouldn’t be wasting my own time with someone who won’t return those things. For about three to four years now, I’ve had a whiteboard that I’ve scrawled “You are worth someone’s time” posted on somewhere prominent in my apartment, only because sometimes I forget that concept if I’m not reminded of it. I’m still learning that – that I’m worth it. That I deserve better. That I deserve the best.

When I was much younger and still to some extent, I was a self-harmer. It was always little things. Showers that ran just a little too hot just to feel something. Tweezers that dug just a little too deep. Not eating for days at a time in the hopes of feeling that hungry feeling. There’s probably more little things that I don’t even realize are and were forms of self harm, quite frankly. Chasing after the wrong people knowing it was going to end in heartache. That’s probably a big one right there. That may just be a case of not learning from my mistakes.

In a lot of ways I worry that my interest in BDSM is just another version of self harm. If the whips, chains, floggers, paddles, clamps, and toys are just new ways to inflict harm upon myself. I’ve never managed to find myself in the elusive “subspace” everybody talks about, but a really good beating is very cathartic for me. It’s a watershed moment, often inducing major bouts of tears and leaving me feeling cleansed and fresh. The need for that release builds in my system, poisoning me and making me feel ill to the point of physical aches.

I’ve often been told that if you seek external sources of happiness you’ll never be happy inside. That the external validation can in no way compare to the internal validation I should be receiving from myself. I don’t disagree with this statement at all, but the problem is that I have yet to work out a sufficient way to provide that internal validation for myself. In my mind, I’m never quite good enough. Never quite pretty enough. Never quite smart enough. Never quite … anything enough. It’s a constant battle I have with myself trying to balance the “I’m better than you” feelings that come from an inflated ego and the “I’ll never be good enough” feelings from having low self esteem and low feelings of self worth.

It’s something I’m working on constantly. Seeking new paths. Seeking that inner peace and inner strength that I’ve so long been looking for. I hate making resolutions; they usually just end up failing. I think this year though I’ve made a new resolution that I will try my best to keep. My 2012 resolution? I will stop letting people make me feel like I’m worth anything except the best.

Review: Beginner Ball Gag by Tantus

For the longest time, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with ball gags. I have an extremely small mouth, one that is almost epically small in proportions. My dentists, orthodontists and oral surgeons have commented how small it is in the past, saying that their instruments that would generally fit an adult don’t even come close to fitting in my mouth. On top of this less than useful trait, I also have a gag reflex that could …. well, choke a horse. I’m the girl who can’t brush her back teeth without almost vomiting all over the bathroom sink.

I have a couple of gags, found through extensive online searching for gags labeled in the reviews as “only fitting a small child.” Those are more traditional ball gags, with a round ball and neck strap. They work, but seem iffy about the standards of construction. This is why I was pleased to get an opportunity to try out the Beginner Ball Gag by Tantus and sold at Fascinations Fun. While my kink play may be advanced, my ball gag usage is still in the beginner range.

I’ve talked several times about the quality I love most about Tantus products – how they’re made from 100% body safe medical grade silicone. My other ball gags claim to be silicone, but any material claiming to be silicone and smelling simply isn’t silicone. High quality silicone, like the type Tantus uses in its products, shouldn’t have a smell. It shouldn’t retain smells and it shouldn’t stain, barring extraordinary circumstances. It’s also easy to clean. Simply pop off the leather head straps (I’ll talk more about those later) and put the gag itself into the dishwasher, in boiling water for five minutes or in a 10% bleach solution. For ordinary use, I wash my silicone toys with antibacterial soap and hot water before and after use to make sure nothing has clung to the surface in storage.

How the ball gag comes out of package

This particular ball gag comes with the straps and gag separated, probably because you should always clean your toys before using them the first time. The gag itself is bright red, that classic color used for gags and prized by fetishists. There are other colors gags get produced in, and this one itself comes in black and pink, but red is simply the most classic color for a ball gag. My bet is a majority of ball gags sold are red.

The part of the gag that goes in your mouth measures just about 2 1/2 inches tall. The base doesn’t go in your mouth, but instead is used to both anchor the straps onto the gag and provide extra comfort. An added bonus is that the base provides an additional barrier to sound and muffles any little noises that may leak out from around the gag. There’s no danger your submissive will make any noise when they’re wearing this gag. The diameter of the ball is just over 1 1/2 inches. For me that’s a pretty sizable ball, but my bet is that a majority of people with average sized mouths can fit this with no problems. I have to stretch my jaw and bite down really hard on the neck of the gag for it to stay in my mouth. Thanks to the aforementioned intense gag reflex, I’ve had problems keeping it in my mouth for more than a minute tops, but I’m working on that and hoping to suppress it more in the future.

Fully assembled ball gag

Inserting the straps into the gag for use is very simple. The head strap has a Velcro closure for the back of the head, and there are snaps that connect the front two straps to the gag through the two little slots on the sides of the gag’s base. The snaps themselves are made from metal and rather difficult to snap together, but I pressed one side against my desk and used that as leverage. That worked perfectly. Maybe I’m just a weakling when it comes to snaps. The snaps are a bronze colored metal. The straps are made from leather and have that great leather smell that I love. Hello, leather fetish! That being said, the straps must be removed for any cleaning or any time water may come in contact with them. I don’t suggest getting a lot of body fluids or lubricants on the straps either but simple drool shouldn’t affect it too much. Isn’t that what ball gags are for anyways? Drool and silence. Very hot in my mind.
Because the straps have a Velcro closure in the back, they are highly adjustable to any head shape and size. Depending where you want to put this on your head, it is easy to adjust and fit to every person who may use this gag.

I think my only issue with this gag is purely visual. The bottom of the gag is perfectly flat from whatever it was molded from. While this isn’t a huge issue, it’s more aesthetic than anything for me. When worn, you can see the bottom of the gag and where it was cut from the mold. The Tantus logo is molded into the upper side of the base so maybe the logo would look better on the bottom side, adding a little visual interest to the bottom. I like that the flat part provides a canvas onto which you could carve something, write something or otherwise decorate it yourself, but if you don’t do that … well, it looks kind of unfinished and plain.

Overall, the Beginner Ball Gag by Tantus sold at Fascinations Fun is a highly functional ball gag for those who are both just getting into using ball gags and those more experienced with them. It is easy to wear, easy to use, easy to clean and easy to care for. Tantus’s body safe materials make for a great product and while the base leaves something to be desired visually, it is a perfect option for someone looking to experiment with ball gags in a non-threatening manner.

Rope, Nipples, and Leather Oh My! My Weekend at SINSations in Leather

Here it is, the long awaited epic recap of my weekend at SINSations in Leather 2011 held in Chicago. I’ve posted before how I was going to this, and my Twitter feed had been pretty much nothing but excited mentions of it for weeks ahead of time. I’ve never been to any kind of large scale kink event and while I had been told what to expect, something like this is just one of those things you have to experience it first hand to really know what it’s like.

For the longest time I’d been expecting to go by myself and meet up with friends there. Maybe meet new people, see what was there and play a little or a lot depending on my comfort level. I had mentioned I was going to one of my friends who was looking to get out of her bad relationship and looking to explore more of her burgeoning kinky side. Eva is someone I’ve known for almost three years now through school and I absolutely love and trust her. She was interested in going and after a few weeks of fence sitting and wavering, I managed to convince her to go and got her all registered. Her newfound enthusiasm was so cute. We’ve all been there in the complete newbie phase. “I have some collars if you want to wear them!” I giggled at her repeated cute texts and Google chat messages and reminded her that I’ve been in this lifestyle far longer than her and that combined with my extensive toy reviewing meant I had my fair share of gear to take with if I wanted to.

I planned my outfits for weeks ahead of time, quite literally. Finding and selecting the perfect pieces that would match everything and give me the look I was going for. I wanted cute and sexy, but not super slutty. The difficult thing is that when you’re outside of your hotel room or the actual roped off convention area, attendees have to be completely covered and all fetishwear must be not visible. You can push it depending on what’s in fashion (corsets for example), but rope harnesses, nudity, excessive bare skin, etc is strongly discouraged if not completely outlawed. This is an event held at a reputable hotel and to our great surprise when we arrived, there was a cheerleading/dance convention or competition also going on there the same weekend. Great plan, hotel people. Book a fetish convention at the same time as a dance convention with lots of judgmental mothers and little girls. Oh well, we made the best of it. The one upside is that at a certain point in the evening, all the underage kids and their parents went to bed and you could walk around with slightly less attention directed at you.

When Eva and I arrived on Friday, we checked into the hotel and threw our stuff in the room. We worked on our make up a little and I put on my ubiquitous super long curly wig. I had almost forgot my fake hair back at my apartment when packing my stuff and that would have been a fail of epic proportions if that had happened. I had a lot of my outfits planned and based around my very long hair. Little girl with big hair? Hot! After we got ourselves gussied up, we went down and registered ourselves at the conference. Ahhhh, I forgot what it’s like to be around people you can make a dirty joke to and they don’t look at you like you’re some sex offender. That’s one of the downsides of being in rather conservative town and social community.

My Friday night outfit

We chilled out and talked with some people after registering and Eva got her first taste of true BDSM people. “Do they all stand that close to you?” I explained there’s not so much a concept of personal space especially after you’ve been up in someone’s junk or seen them completely naked tied up and beaten. Friday night’s opening ceremonies were quickly approaching, so we scooted up to our room and changed from our street clothing to our more “adventurous” clothing. She wore a short skort and top that tied between her breasts and I wore a pink and black corset, leather shorts, fishnets and heels.
I later added a large feather headpiece I had made and the gloves for a full burlesque/saloon girl feel. Needless to say I got quite a bit of attention in that outfit and I really enjoyed showing it off.

Opening ceremonies were nice and while they were long somewhat, it was interesting to hear everybody speak and hear what they had to say. I like people getting named at the beginning so I can put a name to a face throughout an event. As soon as opening ceremonies were over, the play time began. That’s when I ran back up to the hotel room and grabbed my accessories I forgot. We made our way back down and hung out with some people for awhile. I showed off the toys that Crystal Delights Toys graciously supplied to me to show off for the weekend. Everybody was unbelievably impressed and in love with all that is Pyrex and Swarovski toys, as they should be! (Side note: if you don’t have a Crystal Delights toy yet, what are you waiting for?!) Eva and I managed to find ourself in a very interesting conversation about prudery versus sex negativity in our society.

Friday night playtime was rather subdued and neither Eva and I were really looking to play that night. I would have entertained an offer, but we more sat back and watched. We watched some interesting rope suspensions and other scenes around us and talked with some very interesting people. I could tell Eva was still testing her feet in the water of BDSM play and I wasn’t about to go off and abandon her to get myself all  beaten up or worked over when she was still uncertain about things. We watched some suspension attempts by my friends and then ventured off to test out a violet wand that Eva was really interested in. She enjoyed it, but has sensitive skin and didn’t do much of it. I liked the sensation on my arm, but couldn’t do much else without further consultation because of my stainless steel piercings. Friday night wound down around 1am and we scooted off to bed with the promise of more to come on Saturday.

Sailor’s Knot bracelet

Saturday morning came sooner than I think everybody would have liked but our 9am class about wearable shibari (rope decorations and rope play) by the lovely Ms. Cherries Jubalie was an excellent class. Rope is generally not my thing thanks to a very impatient personality, but I’m learning to like it after this weekend. I can definitely see the appeal and the day to day stuff is something I am drawn to. The idea that having something close to your body throughout your day to remind you of your partner or your lifestyle is very appealing. I’m someone who has to dress and look very conservative on a daily basis and if I didn’t have something like my piercings to remind me of my kinky nature, I’m not sure I could handle a lot of the daily stresses of my life. She suggested something even as simple as a sailor’s knot bracelet like I’m showing here at right could be a connection to your “other” life. I have one of these and hadn’t even thought about it. I’ll be wearing it more often now that I’ve connected those two things in my mind!

Our next class was Bondage 201 (mainly with rope) by a personal friend of mine Leon MonkeyFetish and there’s little more I can say about it than Eva turned to me with this glint in her eye and said “I think I like rope.” We’ve created a monster! Between being tied and tying, it was very enjoyable and definitely educational. I had to run out a few times to answer my phone so I missed some things, but I encourage anybody interested in rope play even a little bit to check out his site because there are many many step by step tutorials on how to do some basic to advanced rope work that I doubt I’d ever be able to master thanks to an inability to tie anything more complicated than my shoelaces.

We had lunch with friends and where there’s kinky people in large groups, there will be exciting and stimulating conversations to be had. Eva and I decided to go to Jack Rinella‘s class about building long term relationships, which proved to be very interesting and educational. As someone who would like to eventually be in long term relationships with some bite to them, we wanted to learn what made them work and what would eventually tear them down. While it was obviously directed toward a BDSM-involved crowd, there was some very valid points that can be applied to most any relationship. From what I got out of it, it’s basically centered around the idea that people in relationships need to communicate, continually assess and reassess where they are and where they want to be in their relationship, and understand that people grow over time. Where a relationship starts is not where it may end up in the long run. It makes perfect sense when you think about it objectively, but when you’re in the situation yourself you may not be able to think so objectively.

Eva and I took a break after that session and hung out with Cherry and Leon for awhile. Sometimes the best connections are made when you’re just having down time and connecting that way. Friends are not made in the heat of the moment, but instead when it’s slow and dull. I can’t say that erotic falconry is all that dull, but we had a good time laughing about it and going through the pictures. It’s something Eva and I discovered a few years ago and is now a running joke with us. Dan and Dawn joined us for awhile and there were Ferrero Rocher chocolates to be had thanks to them. Mmmmmm tasty! After awhile the four of us (Leon, Cherry, Eva and myself) decided to leave the hotel to get dinner. Tasty Mexican food was had by all.

My Schoolgirl Outfit

All weekend we were building to Saturday night’s playtime and I had received a promise to get my bum beat on by Leon. I was super excited at the possibility of it because as we know I haven’t done any play since September. My no-play, no-cuddle, no-sex chastity vow has come to a natural end and I was ready and willing to put myself out there for good BDSM play. Eva was excited about the possibility of some rope play now that she’d warmed up to the scene and the people there. We all hung out in Eva and my hotel room for awhile before changing into our Friday night wear. I put on my schoolgirl outfit, which has been known to reduce most anybody to a drooling mess. Eva stuck with the black mini dress I had loaned her for the weekend. Down in the dungeon, the crowd was pretty thin, but it was better that way for Eva because she was not super excited about getting watched while she did her suspension. In fact, she borrowed my white top to use as a blindfold instead of having to see everybody that was mulling around or doing their own thing. Yes, that means I sat there and watched in just my skirt.

Leon worked on her suspension and Cherry and I watched. While I’m not the best person to explain the physics or the details of it, the best description of it is that Eva was suspended face up like she was laying in a hammock. She looked super comfortable and she said it was super comfortable. It even popped a disk in her back she has difficulty popping and was like a free trip to the chiropractor for her! After about five minutes total she was let down from her suspension and it was my turn. Whereas Eva didn’t want any impact play, that’s mainly what I wanted. We sat there for awhile trying to figure out what to do, ultimately decided I’d have my arms bound behind me and a rope harness tied so that I could be held upright and not run away while I was getting worked over. While I have had a rope breast harness before, I haven’t had my arms restrained by rope or been tied to a stable point before.

Now here comes the fuzzy part for me. I wish I could explain everything in minute detail, but once the fists start flying and my ass gets hit, my mind goes into a special place and I don’t pay attention to the details as much. There was biting and ultimately I ended up with something like seven bite marks all over my body, mostly on my thighs, ass, and back. I was hit with a pineapple knot, or what I would better call a “rope wrecking ball.” I got lowered to my knees with my forehead pressed to the floor and my ass received a lot more attention from his hands and ultimately his feet. Yes, I got kicked … a lot. Mmm it was delicious. Leon is OCD like me so once he bit one side of my back he had to do the other side as well. I have matching bite marks on the small of my back on either side. I quite like them but they make for interesting sensations.

I think what was most interesting for me is that while I didn’t use my safeword even through the worst of the pain, I started to cry. I’ve cried a few times while getting beat, but it’s not something I do every time. I’ve been dealing with a lot of crap in my head lately, and I’ve been questioning myself and my intentions in the BDSM lifestyle. I’ve often said that for me beatings are a catharsis and this turned out to be no different. It allowed me to get out of my head for a few minutes and focus on the sensations and what was happening to my body. Before long I was downright sobbing and I think I freaked out Leon when I started to cry so hard. I had to reassure him it was okay and that I was doing alright. That it was a good thing I was crying and that it was making me feel better. I was worried that Eva would get too freaked out by me crying, but by this point she wasn’t really paying attention to what was happening to me because she was processing her drop. I don’t blame her. I’ve been there.

The rope marks on my thighs after

The beating finally subsided and I got to wipe my tears away. I felt so cleansed and bare. It was really a great feeling. We hadn’t discussed doing it before, but then I asked if I could be suspended like Eva since she had loved it so much. It’s an experience I’ve been wanting to try and this was the perfect opportunity. We thought about the best way to do it given my body and given the fact that I tend to have low or poor circulation in my limbs. Ultimately I got rigged up with another chest rope harness and was suspended face down with rope around my chest, thighs and ankles. There was a lot of pressure on my ribs and sternum so some adjusting needed to be done, easily done when you have someone experienced like Leon. Once I finally got off the ground it was this amazing feeling of flying. He laid down on the floor and I spun around for awhile while he watched me. It was a lot of fun, but like all things, I had to finally come down and the ropes came off. Yes, there were some pretty amazing rope indentations on my skin.

Eva was getting a pretty amazing looking foot rub and I was processing my own drop at this point. I wandered around for a bit and when I got back she was sleepy and I could tell her adrenaline levels were crashing, a cue that her sub drop was hitting full scale. She went on up to our hotel room and I watched Leon work with Cherry on a suspension too. Three suspensions in a night! I was really enjoying it but like Eva, my energy levels were plummeting now too. By then it was close to 1am and I was wanting sleep in the baddest way possible. I had to run down to the lobby after I took off all my make up and hair and one of the most touching moments of all weekend was riding the elevator back up with the event photographer. All weekend he’s seen me in full make up and fake hair. I wasn’t even sure he recognized me but indeed he did. On Sunday he saw me again in full makeup and hair and told me, “You look beautiful without the wig too.” It seriously put a huge smile on my face.

“Have you pet the kitty today?” shirt

Sunday morning rolled around and dragging my now bruised and sore body out of bed was a serious challenge. There was some groaning and protests but I had to get out eventually. The shower felt so good, but it was really hard to do much movement given how sore my ass was. there were some seriously great looking bruises beginning to form. One thing about me is that I really love being marked after a beating and I take pride in meticulously documenting my markings on an almost 6 hour incremental basis. My Sunday outfit was a little toned down from my previous outfits. I wore a tank top I got in Vegas that said “Have you pet the kitty yet today?” with my black satin waist cincher over it and the same pair of leather shorts. I had several people comment how cute and tiny I looked. I guess losing 15 pounds since November and wearing a tightly laced corset will do that to you. Sunday’s only class that we could go to was Leon’s Rope Finishing and Care class and while I had to run out a few times to answer my phone, Eva said it was a great class and I have a little segment of hemp rope to finger now. A reminder of the weekend so to speak.

My new high heels! LOVE! 

We did a little shopping in the vendor area and I convinced myself into getting a new pair of heels (self proclaimed shoe whore!) at an amazing deal. Given I find so few shoes in general and definitely heels that fit me, I try not to pass up a size 5 or smaller heel when I can find them. I don’t often have someone who puts the heels on my feet when I try stuff on and that was a different sensation, but I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it. At least I didn’t kick the guy in the face like the last person to give me a pedicure!

Unfortunately it was time for Eva and I to go and it was getting late in the day on Sunday. Being students means we had prior commitments to schoolwork we needed to complete on Sunday, despite wanting to stay. If I could have I would have stayed there for another few hours with people. We packed up our stuff and changed back into ‘normal’ clothes and were on our way back to our tiny little student apartments.

So did I have a good time at SINSations in Leather? Yes! I loved my time there and I got to meet a lot of really great people. Sometimes being in law school is very confining and isolating. It’s especially isolating when nobody I know is interested in BDSM enough to let me talk freely about this stuff. Thankfully now I have Eva to share these experiences with and talk to. I’m hoping to help her on her own journey into the lifestyle, no matter how far into it she gets. We were all newbies at one point, young and naive. I think what I most took from the weekend was a reinforcement of what I feel is my purpose in this life. I feel like I’m here in this particular life to make a positive influence in people’s lives. If I can put a smile on one person’s face every day and know that I’ve made their day or their life better, than my day has been a positive one.

Would I go back to another event? Most certainly yes! I would love to go to future events and drag Eva along with me given the timing and financials are in right place. I’m looking into stuff starting after my bar exam in late July and hoping that I can make this a regular thing.

For me SINSations in Leather was an eye opening and enriching experience. I have the marks to prove it. I got the catharsis I was seeking for a very long time and I feel lighter and cleaner because of it. I met a lot of really good people and have some opportunities now that I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t gone. And the best part? A new pair of really great high heels!