Frustration (AKA the post in which I rant about personal responsibility)

I posted previously at my blog about how amused I was at the endless tirade of self affecting posts I’ve seen on Fetlife but I think I’ve passed the amusement phase and now have moved into my frustrated phase. While I haven’t read every comment and every piece people have had to say (mostly because I, you know, have a life, a job and a desire not to gouge my eyes out), I have stumbled through the highlights and lowlights.

Let me be the first to say congratulations. My fellow Chicago kinksters have started a serious and necessary open dialogue about an important topic. You’ve caused us all to stop and question ourselves, our actions and our interactions.

That’s about where my congratulations end. Here’s where my rant begins. When I first “joined” the kink community, I felt like I was wearing a scarlet “N” for newbie. Perhaps it was just the company I kept, but I felt preyed upon now looking back at it. I felt uncomfortable. I felt like I was being taken advantage of. I didn’t know any better and I was horribly naive. I trusted people I shouldn’t have, opened up to people who later turned on me, and found myself hurt beyond words when spilling my heart and soul out backfired.

I did a lot of things I wished I hadn’t. There’s still things I wish I could go back and redo mostly because I’m not proud of the decisions I made and the things I agreed to. I let the excitement of “HOLY SHIT! You can do that?!” overwhelm my sense of self and sense of what was right for me. That’s one of the things I forgot – I had nobody to look out for me except me. I figured older, wiser (ha!), and more experienced people had my back and wouldn’t do anything for, with and to me that I wasn’t ready for. I will never point fingers, name names or call those people titles that they don’t deserve. Why? Because I take personal responsibility for my own actions. Don’t get me wrong – I do believe said persons deserve “blame” for their part in my undoing but I played my part as well.

Not many of you know that in October of 2010 I went a little crazy. I had a bit of a breakdown. Why? Because I put my heart out there and had it flung back at me. I was under attack for expressing myself. I was idealistic and thought that if I expressed what I held in my heart, nothing bad would happen. Oh how little I knew of the world. Turns out it was the ammunition some people needed to fling mud in my face and make me the social pariah at the time. In the span of a few hours I went from having friends to feeling like I was under attack from all sides. I withdrew almost completely from all forms of kink. I didn’t play. I didn’t talk. I didn’t fuck. I didn’t even damn well touch anybody for almost 16 months.

It was in those 16 months that I truly learned that there is absolutely one person in the world I could trust – me. There is ONE person who will and must look out for me at all times – me. If I couldn’t trust myself to do that, there would be no hope of ever trusting anybody else.

There is an inherent power dynamic in what we do as kinksters. That can’t be denied. There will always be someone who holds more power and someone who holds less. Should that more powerful person bear more burden of protecting the less powerful person? Of course. To say any different would be to undermine the entire power exchange relationship. But to say that more powerful person bears the entire burden is to throw the idea of personal responsibility completely out the window. Perhaps I am advocating for an antiquated notion; perhaps I am “past my prime.” I don’t really care.

This is my form of therapy. This is my solace. I did things I’m not proud of. I did things I wouldn’t advocate anybody do. I said yes to things I probably should have said no to. Maybe I’m the one seeking forgiveness for my sins. All I know is I’ve come to peace with my past and I’ve become a better person for it. I’ve become a more responsible person for it.

Bravery comes in many forms. I’ve seen lots of it in my life. I could list examples of it until I’m blue and still wouldn’t even touch the surface of it. I will say this though – bravery is admitting when you’re wrong and trying to make amends for it. Bravery is using those past wrongs to be a better, stronger, more responsible person and moving on with new purpose and conviction. That’s what I aim to do every day.

Say what you want about me. I’ve turned my corner and I refuse to look back.

BDSM is serrrrrrrious bizzzness!

For the last week or so, I’ve watched with amused fascination at the non-stop barrage of incredibly philosophical and self-effecting posts fly by on my Fetlife feed. I don’t know if something happened to warrant such deep soul-searching posts and discussions of blame, victim shaming, and issues of consent, but something tells me I am way out of the loop in general. Actually, that’s just fine with me.

I don’t really want to be apart of those discussions even if I have something to say. I’d rather sit back with a bucket of popcorn and a finely mixed adult beverage and watch the fur fly, so to speak. You know why? Because one thing I’ve noticed among all these posts is the fact that everybody acts like BDSM and the life those in it lead are beyond the most serious thing ever. Don’t get me wrong – for a lot of the people involved in these discussions, these issues are very serious. I’m not discounting their experiences, whether good or bad, at all so don’t think I am. If something non-consensual happens to a person, whether to them or by them, I agree 100% that those events should be discussed and evaluated to determine if and where the blame may lie.

That being said, the whole thing has me totally amused. For a lot of people I know, BDSM and all things related to it is what we do for fun. We have high stress, demanding jobs and lives and often times want to get away from those issues we face 9-5. When I put on my “leather” or my slinky clothes, I don’t do it so I can sit there and have deep philosophical discussions about issues much larger and grander than myself. I consider them before hand, when I’m wearing my TOMS and leggings. I put my two cents in and then step away. I certainly don’t want to get embroiled in a debate where I could make an ass of myself, whether purposefully or inadvertently.

If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about 90% of the BDSM community is that quite a few of them take the whole thing way too seriously. As the old saying goes, “they can’t see the forest from the trees.” There is a larger picture to consider and one that I propose should include some laughs and giggles. Some of the best times I’ve ever had were laughing with people about random, crazy shit that has happened to us in the course of our play over the years. Dominants or tops do not need to be scary, mean and intense 24/7. Submissives or bottoms should not be cowering in the corner with welts on their backside and eye makeup running down their face (women or men!)

BDSM can and should include a great majority of lightness and spirit. I’m a person full of laughter and I want that to be reflected in my personal life. I don’t want to have headaches about issues much greater and larger than myself unless absolutely necessary. I come to BDSM to get away from those things. The release from my thoughts is what I seek, not delving into them deeper.

Like I said before, there’s a time and place for everything. Should serious issues be discussed, both privately and publicly? Of course. For me though, I’ll prop my feet up and dive into that popcorn until I feel the need to chip in. I have enough seriousness in my life, thank you. BDSM is my diversion from that seriousness and I suspect I’m not alone in that feeling.

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.

My Desert Island Toy List

I have people ask me all the time: “What’s your favorite [insert category of sex toys]?” Over the years I’ve tried so many it would make most people’s heads spin. Hell, if you look at which toys are in my collection, the number really is quite staggering. I didn’t even realize I’d tried that many until I actually sat down and listed them all.

Sex toys come and go but I find myself gravitating back to the tried and true ones. These are the toys that will forever hold a dear place in my heart and bedside drawer.

Dildos

 Pure Wand by nJoy
If I could write an ode to one toy and one toy alone, it would be the Pure Wand. For a long time before I wrangled up the funds for one, it had been spoken of with high esteem by sex toy reviewers and users alike. “It’s fabulous! You won’t regret it!” they all said. I always replied with a skeptical look and mindset. There really couldn’t be one single dildo that did everything for me, could there? I mean, after all … it’s huge! It weighs in at around three pounds of solid stainless steel. I could use this thing as a personal defense tool, for god’s sakes. 
The weight is what makes it so totally delicious and beyond reproach. I swear to you that from the very first time I used the Pure Wand, I was hooked. It has brought me more orgasms than all my other toys combined. Hands down. The small end is perfect for targeting the g-spot. That tiny end almost acts like a magnet. WHAM! G-spot stimulation! The larger end is great for all over, cervix-pounding thrusts. The two ends are perfectly counter balanced and this provides an ease of use that you would otherwise think would be lacking in such a hulking piece of beauty. The trick to using the half moon shape is to rock it in and follow the natural curve of the dildo. 
It’s incredibly cleanable, with no cracks or crevices that could collect gross germs or gunk. Use antibacterial soap, boil it or put it in the dishwasher. It comes in it’s own crown jewels-like case, nestled in a bed of pink satin. 
Read my full review of the nJoy Pure Wand here.
Magnum by Fun Factory
Okay, so maybe stainless steel isn’t your thing. No problemo. My other favorite dildo is by far the Magnum dildo by Fun Factory. It’s swirly, it’s silicone, it’s firm and it’s got a fantastic girth! Is that enough for you? 
Magnum is probably top most dildo on my dildo pile other than the Pure Wand. Sometimes, you just want thickness inside you! That’s what Magnum offers and more. What I like most about this dildo is that it’s definitely got some heft to it (I sense a theme!) There is nothing wimpy about this dildo. It’s not slender and it’s not for the faint of heart. This makes it a win in my book. Not to mention that it is harness-compatible! The flared base makes it great for anal use, though admittedly you’d have to be a pretty intense anal player to get the whole shaft of this beast into your bum. Owie. 
The shape is just asexual enough not to freak me out and just detailed enough in the right places to provide stimulation where my body craves it. From all the dildos I’ve tried, used and no longer use, I’ve noticed that I like curvy dildos. Some have the extreme curve of the Pure Wand and some have the more gentle curve of the Magnum. The broad head of the Magnum is great at stimulating the whole g-spot area while staying away from sharp, cervix-puncturing pokes. 
Once again, you can clean the Magnum in all the same ways you can clean the Pure Wand, a must for my germaphobic self.
Read my full review of the Magnum by Fun Factory here
Vibrators
 Mimi by Je Joue (pink) and/or Siri by Lelo (purple)
I tried my best to decide which one of these I liked more, but I simply couldn’t pick. It’s like asking me to decide among my pairs of shoes which I like the best. It simply can’t be decided. They both have their pros and cons and quite frankly, I wish that they would just combine already! Make sweet, cute, powerful, easily rechargeable and waterproof little love babies.
They’re both perfect in their own way. The Mimi is waterproof all over. I keep Mimi in my shower for a quick waterproof pick me up in the morning. It’s broad, flat head is great for clitoral vibrations. It has a billion different vibration patters, but I’ll be honest and say I really dislike vibration patterns. I prefer constant vibration to a pattern any day. Same goes for the Siri in terms of patterns. I know they’re there if I ever want to try them out, but I sure as hell don’t use them on a day to day basis.
Siri’s pointier head is great for super targeted vibrations and on the whole I would say I use Siri more than Mimi, but Mimi is clearly better for wet encounters because Siri’s buttons are the weak point in it’s chain. The charging port is at the back of the hard plastic part of the handle and the plug in is easily accessed by water and/or lube. Eeek! Mimi charges by magic … or as Je Joue says “a magnetic clip” that just magically holds onto the little electrodes that also double as on/off buttons at the non-business end. 
Both have tips that are silicone and cleanable, but Mimi is covered all over (with the exception of the very end with those buttons).  I’m gentle with when I clean these and only clean with soap and water. 
One thing you may notice is that I don’t have a stick vibrator or traditional style vibrator listed here. Why? Because I just don’t have a use for them. My vagina likes penetration, not vibration. My clitoris is the one who likes vibration, so why have all the extra bulk? It’s not necessary. I stick with tiny, discrete and out of the way vibrators. 
Anal Toys
Small Clear Plug by Crystal Delights
I have said it before and I will say it again until I’m hoarse in the face. The single best plug I’ve ever used in my entire life is the Small Clear Plug by Crystal Delights. End of story. There simply isn’t another plug or anal toy even like this plug. If there isn’t one of these in your toy collection if you are into anal, then you should drop everything and get one of these now. Hell, you should have had one of these since the day they came on the market. 
Why am I so in love with this plug? It has absolutely everything I have ever wanted in a plug and more. It sparkles like CRAZY. I like everything sparkly and there is nothing that sparkles like a huge Swarovski crystal in your ass. People have told me it looks like a freaking flashlight shining out of my bum. It is just that sparkly. Doesn’t every girl want something sparkly in her life? Tiffany, Cartier, Harry Winston. Pffft. They have nothing on these things. Forget putting a diamond on my finger; put a diamond in my butt! 
This plug has unparalleled comfort. I’ve worn it for upwards of five to six hours and could have easily worn it for much longer. Because it’s glass it does have a bit of a weight to it, but actually it’s a pleasant weight. I find that when I’m wearing it, I’m more aware of my sensuality. I feel owned and dominated even if I’m the one doing the dominating. There is something about anal that puts me in the most delicious headspace and this plug is number one in doing it for me. 
I could go on and on for hours and days about how amazing all of the Crystal Delights toys are (helloooooo … they have TAILS!) but this is the flagship in the line, in my mind. When Crystal Delights first came out they had two sizes – large and small. The large plug has a longer neck and looked uncomfortable to me. I’m so glad I went with the small and thus the shorter necked plug. It simply does everything for me. 
You simply won’t know how amazing these toys really are until you try them. That’s all there is. 
Read my full review of the Small Clear Plug by Crystal Delights here.
Lubricant 
Natural Organics by Sliquid
Why do I have lube here? Because it’s lube! Everybody needs lube. Our bodies are not natural lubricant producers all the time. If you do any anal play at all and are even halfway concerned about your butt’s health, you must use lubricant. The ass doesn’t produce any natural lubricant on its own in the way a vagina does. No lube equals friction. Friction equals tearing. “Tearing” and “asshole” are two words that should never, ever go together. 
There are a million and one lubricants on the market and a million and one chemicals that manufacturers put in those lubricants. Some are more harmful to your body than others. Sliquid is an American company making super body-safe and organic lubricants that are bar none my favorite ones. I’ve tried tons and found that some dry out, some get sticky, and some … well, I don’t like to speak of some.
Sliquid makes a ton of different varieties, some water based and some silicone based. Some have flavors and some have no flavors. Some are warming and some are cooling. I like the plain old basic Natural Organics version that is water-based. It works with any toy material and any condom material. This lube has just ten ingredients and five of those are certified organic. My body likes those odds. 
There are so many other lubricants out there that claim to be body-safe and non toxic. This lube actually is both of those things. Why aren’t you using it already? 
**********
So there you have it. Six simple products that have changed my life. I couldn’t live without them and I sure as hell never want to be without them if I’m ever stuck on a desert island. We’ll just imagine the whole electricity issue isn’t an issue at all. Need a new toy in your life? Get one of these. Need a toy that will last you a lifetime and will get you hooked? Get one of these. 
I know my life wouldn’t be the same without them!

Original Fiction: Longing

I don’t like to admit I still think about him. That I still think about him touching me. That I still think about his smile, his laugh, his back, his hands, his funny sense of humor. It’s one of my dirty little secrets. I thought if I push the memories as deep down inside of me as I could, I could deny they had ever happened. I could ignore the moments we spent together and the touches we shared.

My mind plays tricks on me sometimes. I’ll be out somewhere and think I see him. It stops me dead in my tracks when I do. Part of me wants to run away in fear and part of me wants to run towards him. It always tears me in two when I catch glimpses of his doppelgangers.

There are moments it feels like yesterday and there are moments it feels like a lifetime ago. I have grown and changed so much since then and people who knew me then tell me I’m a different person now. I have mixed emotions about that possibility. A part of me wishes I could still be that person, wild and fancy free. Taking risks much bigger than myself and playing with fire. The problem with that is I have more to lose now. I worry about losing all that I’ve built for myself since him, the least of which is the walls I’ve built around myself and my heart.

I still feel his hands on me sometimes. Large, warm, male hands. He had lovely hands. I still feel the thud, thud, thud of his hands and his tools. I still feel his breath on my skin, hot and heavy.

I still feel the tears I shed for him, fresh as if they were just spilling forth. I told myself long ago I wouldn’t shed any more tears for him. Only time will tell if I stick to that promise.

I long for him … even now.

Porn, Politics and the Smart Slut

For many years now I’ve encountered a curious phenomena that seems to follow me wherever I go. It is this strange idea of the “smart slut.” Over on my Twitter account (@TheUcKinkster) my 140 character blurbs encompass pretty much every topic one could think of. I talk about my work, my pets, my kinks, my shopping, my shoes, my life and my comments on pop culture. I’ve been very candid about my journey through higher education and my struggles with getting through the bar exam.

It’s something I’m very proud of – that I’ve worked my way through 19 straight years of school and come out on the other side with a bachelor of science in business management and a juris doctorate. I’ve invested a lot of time and energy into educating myself and as such consider myself “smarter” than the average person. I put that in quotes because much like everything, smarts are all relative. There are many people much less educated than me that I feel dumber than and there are people much more educated that I feel smarter than. On the whole though, I’ve used my education to define myself and it shapes a lot of my views on the world.

I have found though that when I go to express opinions about relevant political debates or make intellectual comments, I encounter a wave of responses varying from “no one cares what you think” to “shut up and show us your tits.” Certainly there are people that find my opinions, whether based on my education or not, interesting and engage me in a lively intellectual conversation about them, but there are always those people who basically respond that I shouldn’t be expressing my opinions about educated matters because I am in the same breath talking about my love of kink and sex.

I find it interesting that there is this stigma about being a “smart slut.” That somehow because I’m a sexual woman, not just a sexual person, other people cannot view me as smart at the same time as they view me as sexual. That’s like saying I have to shut down that part of my self because I’ve chosen to be very “out” with my sexuality. Thanks, but no thanks. Those parts of my personality and my intellect are not something I want to cut out of my life. I’ve chosen to work on them through many years of strict intellectual work and study. 

There have been rumblings of this and similar dichotomies for years now. Doing a web search for “porn stars with degrees” yields such lovely results as Yahoo question postings of Why would anyone with a college degree become a porn star?” It’s almost a laughable question to me. Just because one is educated doesn’t mean they’re also not into sex. A prerequisite for getting a higher degree is most definitely not having to turn off your sex drive. There are some seriously smart porn stars out there, Nina Hartley being one of my idols in terms of activism and efforts to educate the public on sex. If you’ve followed anything about the recent push by the state of California to mandate condom use in all porn production, you’ve probably heard of Bobbi Starr‘s several posts about the topic in response to CalOSHA’s proposed plans. She is one seriously smart porn star if I’ve ever seen one. Try telling them to turn off their brains and just fuck. Let me tell you, that isn’t going to fly.

A corollary debate that has gone on for years is the idea that mothers cannot be sexual creatures. Sure, we have such awesome labels and categories as “MILFs” but it seems like any woman past the age of 25 is grouped in the MILF category regardless of what should be the most important requirement to be apart of such a group – actually having children. Once a female porn performer stops being able to realistically pull off the “barely legal” look she almost instantly is grouped in with the “mature” performers. There have been recent debates about what constitutes a healthy mixture of mother and sex goddess, from such industry leaders as Madison Young and her controversial project “Becoming MILF.” Regardless of what side of the debate you fall on, there didn’t seem to be much disagreement that a woman can be both a mother and a sexual creature. The debate came in as to what mixture and what venues mixing the two would be appropriate. While I agree with statements on both sides, I think that both sides make a similar valid point – nobody is limited to being just one thing.

When I express my political opinions and feelings, I find I encounter even more resistance and only end up getting frustrated. Instead of having an open debate and acknowledging that my views may differ from someone else’s, I receive shock that I could possibly be …. conservative! It’s almost a dirty word in modern American politics now to associate yourself with the party of George W. Bush. Do I agree with all its views and dogma? Goodness no. There is nothing written in stone that someone has to fall in line perfectly with the party line. To me, the idea of conservatism is the idea of limited governmental interference in a person’s life. Social morality has sadly polluted the idea of political conservatism. Legislating morality is about as successful as the most famous example in history – the 18th Amendment, also known as Prohibition.

Politics is not a topic inherently off limits to those inclined to the sexual side of things. When Mary Carey ran for governor of California, people balked at the idea of a porn star (gasp!) intruding into a serious political race. That’s just stupid to me. That’s like saying mechanical engineers are not allowed at all to talk about interior decorating or lawyers not being allowed to be involved in fashion. Putting topical limits on someone without a logical basis just doesn’t make sense to me. Provide me with a soundly reasoned basis for such prohibitions and while I may debate you on it, I will respect your opinion and perhaps even agree with you if the reasoning is sound enough.

There will always be people who think that a sexual woman should shut her mouth and not express an opinion about anything. There will always be people who think women once becoming a mother should essentially shut down their sexuality except for future procreation. There will always be people who want to keep any mention of sex or porn out of politics despite the topic of sex somehow always showing up in every political race. Mentalities like that, once set in stone, are hard to change. My challenge to the world is this – maybe we should rethink those mentalities.

Review – MySpare Pete Packer Underwear Brief


Pete Packer Underwear Briefs by MySpare

I have a new obsession. Okay admittedly, I’ve had these for a few months now, but I’m still just as obsessed with them as the day I got them.

What are they? The Pete Packer Underwear Brief from MySpare and sold at Babeland are literally a revolution in packing technology and gear. We’ve come a long way since the days of socks in underwear and other ways we devised to gender bend.

I have several other harnesses, among them two MySpare products – the Joque and Theo. I also have several leather harnesses (my favorite of which is the La Femme harness by Stockroom). Specifically for packing I have two packing straps from Aslan Leather (two sizes of the Mr Right Packing Strap). I’ve tried them all. The problem I’ve had with them all up until now was that I felt like I needed to wear underwear over the harnesses so the actual packer didn’t get damaged during from rubbing up against my clothing.

Packer cocks are very delicate by nature and as such tend to tear easily. Because they’re made to simulate a flaccid penis, they need to feel as soft as possible. Babeland’s Softpack is made from Elastomer. I love them for their softness and realistic feel, but I am super protective of them. I keep them stored in plastic baggies so no lint, dirty or other materials that could stain the Elastomer gets in contact with the material while the toy is being stored. If I’m that careful in storing them, do you think I’d be less careful when I wore them?

The Pete Packer solves all these issues. Any packer you choose to wear is kept safely behind the nylon/spandex blend the underwear is made out of. If I were to stand in front of you with these briefs on naked from the waist down, you wouldn’t know I didn’t have a bio cock. That’s what’s so great about the Pete Packer line! As such these are great briefs for trans people and those who simply want to experiment with gender play.

Front and back of the Pete Packer Underwear Briefs (shown with Fleshlight Mr Limpy inserted)
Modeling the Pete Packer Briefs

I’m a small person, 4’10” and 106 pounds. As such, I got the Medium size Pete Packer Briefs just to be on the safe side. I prefer to not wear underwear that is too tight and these turned out just perfectly. The 88% nylon and 12% Spandex jersey blend these briefs are made from fit me perfectly. Size Medium will comfortably fit a 32-34″ waist. Babeland has provided this handy guide to determine what size you would wear:

– Small: 28″ to 30″ waist
– Medium: 32″ to 34″ waist
– Large: 36″ to 38″ waist
– XL: 40″ to 42″ waist
– XXL  (special order only): 44″ to 46″ waist
– XXXL (special order only): 48″ to 50″ waist

In my opinion, order up a size from what you think you might wear. I’m tiny of course and as such you’d think I would wear a small. But au contraire! You would be wrong. I have bigger hips so medium sizes in things usually fit me pretty comfortably. 

For me, the wonder to these packer briefs doesn’t come in the material, fit or anything like that. It comes in the pouch where you keep the packer safe and secure at all times. Having packed a few times under clothing. There is nothing so frightening as shifting your body around only to feel your packer slip out from where you put it. The fear that it will fall out somehow is always there. That was one of my biggest gripes about the Aslan Mr Right Packing Strap. The packer never felt secure and I always felt like it was going to slide right out the top. With the Pete Packer Briefs, the packer stays secure right where you put it.

Inside of the Pete Packer Underwear Briefs

When you look inside the packer underwear, those of you familiar with Spareparts (or MySpare) harnesses will see the familiar fold over flap. This flap is the part that actually sits against your body. While you’re wearing the Packer Briefs, no part of the actual packer touches your body.

Inside  the pouch where you keep the packer

Once you pull back the flap though, you’ll see exactly how you’re going to keep your packer cock safe and secure. First thing you’ll see is a little stretchy piece sewn on. I’ll be honest with you – I haven’t used the little stretchy thing. My packers just don’t fit it. My best guess is that this strap will keep the actual shaft of the packer in place if you don’t want to pull the shaft through the second inner hole (which goes through to the second chamber of the brief front. I think this is what my father would term as “belts and suspenders.” It makes sure that the packer stays inside the inner pouch if you’re not putting it through the hole.

The second hole is pretty small, I tend to think. I took a scissor and made a little snip in it (probably not a good idea since nylon and spandex seems to fray, but there was no other way I could get my relatively slender packing cock through there. I was worried that trying to pull it back out from that super tiny shaft hole would end up tearing the packer. Do this with yours or not, I’m sure that most packer cocks will comfortably sit inside the inner hole.

That inner hole opens up into a second compartment. This is generally where I pull my packer cock into and leave it. For me, I don’t use any stand-to-pee devices or pull out my packer cock from this second compartment like a bio man would pull his penis out (to pee or otherwise display) so having this second pouch have exterior access is neither good nor bad. Obviously though if you wanted to do this, having exterior access to this second outer pouch is excellent. It’s just what you would find in men’s oriented underwear. You can reach in and find whatever your fishing for, be it packer cock or bio cock. The space is generous enough to accommodate several sizes of packer cock, starting from the smallest up through I would say a large size. Having something larger than the Babeland Large Softpack in this space seems to me like it would be excessive, but some people prefer a bigger bulge to a smaller bulge.

Wearing this packer for me is eye opening. I’ve always loved wearing my strap-ons and waiving them around in the air. It makes me feel powerful and “toppy” in a way that nothing else can. When I pack, I cannot stop rubbing my cock. I’ll slip my hand down my pants and just rub away. Before the Pete Packer Underwear Briefs, I was always concerned that this rubbing action would lead to miniature tears in the packer elastomer material and one day lead to the degradation of my packer cocks. With this now, I can rub the outside while still knowing that my packer is safe and secure behind one if not two layers of nylon/Spandex material.

One note here I’ve been dying to ask biological men since I got this packer – how do you walk with a bulge between your legs? Seriously! It’s been killing me. I feel front heavy almost. Like I keep rubbing up against my cock when my legs hit it. No wonder the urban myth keeps getting perpetuated that men think of sex every seven seconds. Having a cock like this makes me believe that myth is actually true.

The care for directions found inside the initial flap in the pouch area

The Pete Packer Underwear Briefs by MySpare can be washed by hand or in a washing machine in cold water on the delicate cycle. Use only mild soap; never bleach or fabric softener. When drying, make sure to line or flat dry these so they don’t deform or melt (after all they are Spandex!) These underwear are made in the USA and are patent pending.

So what do I think of the Pete Packer Underwear Brief from MySpare, available at Babeland? I absolutely freaking love them. I’m not kidding here at all. If you’ve ever considered gender play or are a trans person in need of a safe, secure way to carry around your packers in a day to day pair of underwear, these are what you’re looking for. They are comfortable and yet stylish. The Spandex/nylon blend forms to your body and provides all day comfort but the double pouch area is the best way I’ve found yet to wear a packer all day. There’s no risk that your packer will fall out from where you’ve tucked it if you use the Pete Packer undies. Spareparts is a company I love for harnesses and they have not let me down here in their new line of packing underwear. Bottom line – get these! You will absolutely not be disappointed!

Where have all the “true” doms gone?

It’s something I’ve been encountering for years now. While I have been in the kink community for a very short time compared to some more seasoned members, I’ve had my fair share of “doms” attempting to pursue me. I’ve sometimes even been the domme pursuing someone myself. The joys of being a switch!

In all the time I’ve been in the community though, I’ve only encountered a few of what I call legitimate dominant people. It is as easy as saying the word to call yourself “dominant” but actually living the principles of the moniker are much harder and rarely done right. There have been a handful in my life who are excellent at it. Compared to the whole of “dominant” people though, they are merely a teaspoon in an ocean of idiots.

I think the thing I see most frequently is people assuming “dominant” means being pushy. The thought process is something like this: “Well, maybe if I ask enough/talk enough/push enough she/he will give in and I’ll have my way.” Clearly I have paraphrased here. Only pure idiots and jerks would think that exact line. But the thought is the same. If someone politely declines an invitation or says they will not be able to make it to an event/munch/play party/date, take that and be okay with it. Asking once if circumstances have changed and thus said person would be allowed to attend said event is allowable in my book. Asking 15 times is not. While 15 may be an exaggerated number, I don’t feel it’s that unheard of for something of that sort to happen.

Most of the “dominants” I’ve encountered in my time have been nothing more then pushy jerks who are frequently misogynistic. When you have no compunction or regard for women, it is easy to treat them like some object to be acquired instead of valued members of society who contribute equally to a relationship that should be built on time, trust and communication. Someone who constantly pushes me to do something I have neither the time, interest or wish to do will lose that trust I have in them, however small it may be at the time.

Call me naive, but I see kinky relationships to be out of the Victorian era. It’s about courting a lover, not throwing your will and assuming their life. Small steps and small favors go miles in my world. Trust is something earned over a long period of time, but can be destroyed with a very minor misstep. We are a community of protocols and hierarchies. If you know a submissive has someone in their life, would you instantly go to the submissive and sidestep the perhaps interested partner? Common etiquette and decency would say no, but oh so frequently I see it happening. It happens on Fetlife so often that I see many submissives/slaves/owned peoples put warnings in their profiles to contact their dominant/master/owner/etc. first before any communication is even made.

Perhaps in a rush to sexual liberation and freedom we’ve forgotten what it means to be courteous. I post pictures of myself on Twitter and Fetlife all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m a whore or a slut. More so, it doesn’t mean I’m YOUR whore or slut to treat and do with as you please. Would you go up to a girl in a bar and flash your cock at her? Public decency laws would have you arrested for exposure. Sure, there is a form of anonymity on the world wide web that most people take as license to do how they please, but it seems to be there is a renaissance of people who would rather have a good conversation than a good fuck.

Being dominant does not have to mean being an asshole. Being submissive does not mean having to be a doormat. Stand up for your rights and take back your title. Respect and trust is earned. Say what you want about my views, but I prefer intellectual conversation that leads to great kink than crappy kink with no trust.

Long Time, No Blog

So it’s been awhile since I’ve been here, I know. I could give you some bullshit excuse why I haven’t been around more (*cough*bar exam*cough*) but besides that doozie of an excuse, August has pretty much been the month from hell for me so far.

Stress has been majorly kicking my ass lately. Admittedly 90% of the year I do not have a very stressful job. It’s quiet and there’s not much work involved in it. I sit at a desk and answer calls. I take rent money and try to collect rent when people are delinquent in paying. That 10% of the year that is stressful though is just an absolute 100% nightmare. When everybody is moving in and out of apartments, I get constant and continual bitching from everybody on all sides. The tenants bitch when things aren’t done; maintenance bitches that we push them too hard and they don’t have time to do everything. My boss and co-worker bitches that people are too whiny (because having all the toilets in the apartment not working is whining?) Meanwhile, I answer calls and get to deal with everybody on all sides.

But all that is beside the point. I also haven’t blogged a lot because I just don’t feel I have anything interesting to say. I haven’t done anything kinky, sexy or otherwise fetish-oriented in a very long time. I think that’s what’s been getting me the most lately. I have no outlet for these thoughts and desires. Sure, I get them like normal and get them with a vengeance sometimes. I express them to someone who listens and wants to work through them with me, but he is across the country and only can do so much for me.

That brings me to my biggest stumbling point lately. I am desperately lonely. When I went on my chastity vow last October, I thought I would go a couple months tops before it “felt right” again. Maybe at the worst I’d go six months. Actually I felt that if I went six months, I would be in really good shape and would have broken my tendency to engage in the destructive behaviors that led to me taking my vow in the first place. I couldn’t have guessed last October that I’d now be going into September of 2011 still without sex or even cuddling. Sure, I’ve played once (SINSations in Leather in April) but one play session does not make for a fulfilling kink life. Ideally, it should be something more regular.

I find myself wondering more and more lately if I’m just going to be alone. It seems like there are so many people out there supporting me, telling me they would love one change to “be with” me, or anything similar. Despite all this, I come home every night from an exhausting job to an apartment filled with stuffed animals for companions. I can’t say I’ve cooked myself a full meal in weeks, if not months. Why go through the effort of cooking a full meal if it’s just going to be me eating it?

In general though, I’m feeling very uninspired. I have all these things I want to do theoretically, but I end up looking into them and not really caring. I want to feel motivated again. I’ve talked before how I would like to get into modeling of some sort and I am still very much so interested in that. Six months ago I had several photographers more than willing to shoot me and the only things standing in the way of that was scheduling and distance. Those people seem to have disappeared into the woodwork now and I’m left with a desire but no photographer.

It seems like my drive to review products is starting to wane too. Everything is alike. How can I make reviews stand out and seem interesting? There are so few products in the sphere of sex and bondage toys that I would be willing to review. I won’t compromise on quality materials and absolutely refuse to use body unsafe materials. Plus it seems like no fetish wear or bondage gear manufacturer or retailer is willing to do any kind of review system. It’s pretty frustrating to find things to review.

So what should I do? I really don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what my next move is going to be. There’s so many things I want to do. So many mountains I want to climb and adventurers to have. It’s just a matter of seeing what comes up and what I’m willing to do. I’m spreading my wings now that school is over, but so much is up in the air right now that I’m still feeling pretty lost right now. Until I have results from the bar exam, I have no idea what to do next in my life.