You Watched the Movie

So you watched 50 Shades of Grey and now you're curious? You've read the blog and you're curious? Or you really just have been curious from the beginning and you were too afraid to ask? That's okay. It happens. A lot of people are too afraid to admit their curiousity and are willing to jump in without realizing there is a right way and a wrong way.

I don't have any commentary on this movie other than the fact that the movie BDSM isn't BDSM. You can get hurt. What we do, what I allow others to do, is dangerous. And while it will continue to be dangerous there are things you can do to do it safer.

I'm a leader of a Bottoms group for my local scene and I just helped to plan and host a Bottoms event at the local sex shop. So here are the highlights that you need to know if you want to try and play safe!

Use wrist cuffs
I know that most people think of "adding a little spice" by throwing in being tied to the bed post or throwing on a pair of handcuffs. Don't. For one, furry handcuffs...cliche. They also don't generally fit girls with bigger wrists, they're too tight. Silk ties that are self-cinching? Don't use those either.

Your median nerve that runs up the side of your wrist and down your thumb, can be in major danger with both of those. Yeah, I know from experience. I still can't feel a spot on my thumb. If you're new to BDSM and you don't know what to feel, chances are your top is new and doesn't know how to check in. If you feel tingling or coldness in your fingers, there is a problem.

Where to hit
Your body can be a whipping a post. That doesn't mean it has free reign. While it may be obvious that the butt is the best place to spank a naughty bottom, there are places to stay away from. Stay away from whipping or beating both kidneys and the spine; you need those to live. As far as the front goes, stay away from the collar bone up. Just ya know, common sense.

Safe Words
Don't you dare say you don't have limits! You do. It is okay if you don't know them but you have them. Using a safe word doesn't invalidate your experience or your time together but it may save your life.

Aftercare
You're going to need to take care of yourself. Generally you should have a bag of things ready, particularly, if like me, you don't play at home for whatever reason. I keep a blanket, a first aid kit, water, and my favorite Altoids handy. The candy helps the sugar drop, always stay hydrated, and the blanket helps with the fact that you're body might actually be in a stage of shock. It helps to stay warm and cuddled with the person who just beat the shit out of you.

Warning: The most sadistic tops can be the most cuddliest cuddlers.

And if you have questions...ask them. I want to tell you the answers so bad I can taste it.

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Don't forget to check out SnarkySass Adventures and donate if you can for more educational information with a dash of sass.

SnarkySass Adventures: Debauchery

Alright, I've been at this blogging thing for over a year now and I can't believe how awesome it has been. You guys are fucking great. You've asked questions, you've shared fantasies, explored fetishes, and I've even been thanked for sharing my experiences. Can't begin to tell you how awesome that is because words only go so far.

So this year, I want to go further. Go harder, faster, deeper, and longer. Like popping a boner pill before sexy times, I want to take you to new heights. It starts with a branding. Tacking on a name to the idea of the person that IS Snarky Sass. Hi, I'm Sabina, Sabina Harlot. I have a thing for it when people call me Bina. It tingles a little. So there. Step one, done.

The next part is acquiring things to tell you about and on the list so far is answering a question about strap-ons and squirting, just to cock tease you a little.

But, the biggest, coolest, bestest part of all is the introduction of SnarkySass Adventures.

GoFundMe Campaign SnarkySass Adventures: Debauchery

This May, I want to attend a three day sex-positive BDSM conference in North Carolina. I have already bought my ticket and a couple new outfits to be event appropriate in, but for the rest, I need your help. I'm hoping to crowd-fund my expenses to make the actual trip and stay in the hotel. If you've ever thought about my posts and wondered what the experience is like, I'm in that state of wonder right now. I'm absolutely positive nothing is going to be like this. I can't begin to fathom or imagine what I might see but what I will be able to learn from the classes (there are over 40!!) will be enough to help you guys explore and answer your questions a lot better than I can already.

I'm 28, I've never stayed in a hotel by myself or even taken a vacation for myself. I need your help to make this one tiny dream come true and I will bring back a hell of a lot of sass, the perfect amount of snark, and an overabundance of sex. I'm not a submissive by nature, doesn't mean I ain't to proud to beg. I can't tell you how much I would appreciate anything you can spare. I love you guys!

GoFundMe Campaign SnarkySass Adventures: Debauchery

This is NOT Your 50 Shades

If you've read 50 Shades or you plan to see the movie, have a glimpse at this. This tale, Interrogation: The Breaking of a Rebel, is true. These events are the recounting of a real BDSM scene experience that I had with 2 tops and I'm trying my hand at erotica.

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The lights of the club cast the blue haze on everyone. There were a lot of people here tonight, some waiting the arrival of me and my companion. People close to my heart knew what had had my panties wet for days. My brain was flooded with thoughts and nerves. Fear was never an option because I oozed confidence. It bled out through my very skin.

I was unstoppable.

Our arrival was greeted with the warm vitality that is an event of sexual fortitude. A lot was riding on tonight. I had spent my time building myself up, fantasizing. Not only was it to put on a show. Put on a show for them but I was supposed to meet her.

I would eventually get it all right. But until then, my skin was like fire. The two of them, him/her...ebb/flow...push/pull... thought they would get off easy with this. They had agreed to this on the pretense that I am a stout whipping post but that I am breakable. I fall to their knees and grovel like the pleasing little slut that I am.

And so, I steer clear of them. Oil and water tonight. Until it begins.

The bathroom. A call to escape usually, but a necessary shelter for someone who wants to change her clothes. I'm prepared to walk in as a classy woman but to walk out a barrage of rebelliousness and spikes. They're not taking me down. Everything inside me is twitching and sensitive to the sounds and energy around me. No one can touch me in the place between my legs that's throbbing with energy and need.

But to get to the bathroom, I have to cross their paths. All three of them. I'm actually quite skilled at tunnel vision; this should be a piece of cake. I'm nearing the home stretch until I feel his hands run through my curls and pull my head to him, stopping me. I grit my teeth against his force, as he grumbles into my ear, "You should really learn to say hello..."

Ah, my first opportunity to snip; nothing more, nothing less than the most sarcastic "Hi," that I could drum up. I suppose that must have been acceptable when he threw me back onto the path of my destination and back into tunnel vision; I was only mildly disheveled by that.

I snarl my face into the bathroom mirror while stripping. He knows how to play my weakness. Grumbling into my ears like that. And so my resolve, and albeit my excitement, was found again. I also found myself silently wishing I had brought more panties. By this time, I had found these were going to end up in a very interesting predicament by the end of tonight.

And so I changed clothes. I changed from the leather clad & collared beauty into the rough and rowdy rebel. I steeled myself against the change and braced the wilds, tunnel vision in tow. My nerves were beginning to also surface, and I couldn't bare a glance in her direction, I couldn't bare to watch them set the stage and so I did none of it. I stood. Aimlessly. Steeling and breathing.

I turned my back for the quickest of moments and the world went black. Something, a bag or a pillowcase, had been forcefully shoved over my head and down onto my shoulders and a strong arm came around me. He started yelling in my ear about dignity and asked if I had any. I stumbled, my internal desire to please him and innate need to get it right caused me to waver in my resolve and I responded, "No," I had no dignity. Did I even want it?

And so the reaming questions began as he dragged me backwards and I found the chair that would be my prison, my interrogation chamber, my downfall.

That was when I felt the other part of the equation, the yin to his yang. Both of them were now my captors. Tying me relentlessly as I fidgeted in the chair. I couldn't make this easy. I wiggled my feet, I shifted my arms, and only after it was done did he have to retie me all together. Oops. All that hard work. I was smiling a wicked grin beneath that hood.

The bag was made of canvas and kept me from seeing the world but not from hearing it or feeling it surround me. I was being told exactly what a dirty whore I was, and that it shouldn't matter that the bag was a cum-covered mess of cloth because it was all I deserved. I should feel right at home.

The next thing I heard, whore that I am, was the sound of my clothes being cut. Stripped down, tied to a chair, with a bag over my head. I'm more concerned with the fact that if one of them gets too close, they're going to smell my sex as my body begins to take over. I feel the cool steel of the knife smack into me for good measure. We have knives, and we know how to use them... That was something that he had told me, and my very essence cried out to feel what I knew he couldn't give me, the feel of that blade dragging across my skin. The sharpness cutting me.

Then he was gone.

From a distance he asked for the answers to my questions. Questions that had been pre-planned and pre-assigned. "Now, where are your questions?" My first thought was simply that he was making this too easy. Too easy to foil his plans.

"They're on the table!" But that wasn't a good enough response. It was quickly followed by a snarl from him and indication of which table. No, no, this wasn't how this game was going to be played, "They're are plenty of tables to chose from, I'm sure you'll find it..." I laughed.

His hands were now pulling my neck back to unbelievable angles and my hair was ripping from its delicate place on my head underneath that bag, "If you don't tell me, we're done, because you're wasting my time."

That was a statement that I felt could strike fear into the heart of man, and all of the sides within me warred against each other, and I shouted, "Meira has them!" I had left them with her before I'd ever found myself stuck in this situation. And while he saunters off to retrieve them, their is no reprieve from the hands of a sadist, I'm left to her and she was going to enjoy this.

And the hits started to rain down. Across my breasts, down between my thighs, over and over the feel of her cane, his hands, and the pain of that flogger fell. God that pain rocked my world, the weight of a grown man throwing his all into hitting me, I could feel the wind before I felt his skin. The feel of her at my back, I could hear her satisfaction at my delirium and restraint. And she cracked that cane across my leg.

It was a misstatement to say my skin had been on fire before because now I knew what that meant. He pointed out all the bruises as they bled underneath my skin immediately. Just to point them out he took the bag off my head.

The light was so harsh. I blinked against the intrusion of it. I could see the people in the club watching me; watching as I was reduced to a rebellious little slut. Clothes torn, pussy drenched, taking a beating. He held up that little pink envelope that held inside the answers to my private questions. Things that none should know of me. The submissive side of me, the part that wants nothing more than to please the two of them, had tried so very hard to put effort, care, and love into those questions. I used my very best handwriting, paper, and envelope with the best of intentions...and there, before my eyes, he ripped them to shreds. Ripped them to shreds with only a "I don't give a damn" attitude and the notion that I answer only to him now.

This was the first time I thought that maybe...I'm breakable.

Flight or fight. Cry. Effort and love torn to shreds. Cry. The emotions were beginning to swirl as the bag was shoved back over my head. The spinner for emotions landed with fight. I WILL NOT BREAK THAT EASY!

He so eloquently called out to the club to witness the demonstration of his new toy. I was to be his willing target practice. The sting of the flogger spread out over my thighs and I shook my head at the tenderness that now flooded my nerve endings.

When he was...satisfied?...he tore the bag off my head again. He forced me to look into his face. Looking into his face, the face of my torturer, stirred up everything in me and it took everything I had to not spit in his face, but everything I had inside me called for it. He'd deserve it the bitch side said. He'd punish you for it the masochist side said. He'd not expect it the brat side of me said. While the voices raged on inside my head, came the first question, "What color are firetrucks?"

I almost laughed. I got a little dizzy at the question. It's a warm up. Oh, come on, we play this game better than that, I thought. My answer was simple, "Green." And I laughed at his hesitation, and I laughed through the punishment. They could both deal it out, they will make me pay for my transgressions. And so they shall pay for theirs.

I rocked the chair that I was in, tossed my head and threw my elbows, until the chair fell to its side and now they couldn't reach me. Oh, I was a slutty little mess they had to clean up now. I could see them clearly. See how our energies were blending in the epitome of BDSM roleplay. It was one of the most amazing things I had ever felt and it spurred me on. I tossed, turned, and threw my elbows. Anything that I could do to make untying and righting me more complicated was what I wanted to bring to this scene. I wanted to give them something.

And so, with a moderate amount of effort, I had been planted back in that chair. Untied except for one leg, and now the role reversal. He stood behind me, wrapped his hands around my arms and pulled them out to the sides, crucifying me. In that, he opened up my entire body for her. She could hit me anywhere she wanted, she was free to do it. She caned my thighs and I could swear I heart her giggle. He strung me tighter and pushed the tiny nerve endings and pressure points, and the rest of my body belonged to them in that moment. I had finally landed in a position that was fulfilling my deepest desire. Words like thank you, please, and more begin to take the place of any fight that I have.

If there was a door to subspace, a door to heaven, I could now see it. Gratitude bloomed over my body, my nipples harden and my skin resolved itself for the torture.

The next question...

"What color are strawberries?"

Oh, I know this one. "Red! They're red."

If Two is a Party...

They say three is a crowd but I'm going to go out on a limb here and just disagree with that statement. And yes, this is going exactly where you think it is going.

Because threesomes rock.

In the time that I took off and was having all that wild, whore-like sex in December, a lot of it was new experiences that I had never had before. I learned some awesome things about how polyamorous couples work, the dynamic in threesomes, and just how well boner performance pills actually work.

The sex was quite literally the best of my life. It isn't just another notch on the bedpost or simply worth bragging about. A lot of people want to know how it happened. Well, much like everything of a semi-sexual nature it just did. It just happened.

I fell into the stereotypical bisexual girl situation. You know, the one where everyone thinks that just because you might not be completely straight that you want to join in on their couple action? Yeah. It was me and a married couple. Again, it just sort of happened.

I know a lot of people thought that there would be some big elaborate scheme cooked up here. Something exciting like joining the Swingers Lifestyle (which I did do) and went to some wild get-together house orgy or something and we ended up together (which I didn't do). That's what most people think of. But it started with a simple, "Hey, would you like someone to come get you off?" and permission from the lady part of the equation.

Who turns down something like that!

Two days later the three of us were in a BDSM scene. Naked, bruised, but quite open for anything to happen I was told to "Climb on" and I did. Then I asked to kiss her, too. And for the next 6 hours, it was nothing less than an amazing BDSM fuckfest.

But the thing to remember is that I didn't approach one or the other about any of this. I was told I was attractive and invited to have sex with him. I refused until I spoke directly to her. Before it was a threesome and she was watching me have sex with her husband, she was giving me explicit permission. Drama isn't something that I'm into. It doesn't get me off to be your dirty secret or anything like that.

So yeah, threesomes can just happen. They can just happen to you, too. But if you drop the ball on communicating what it is you want, it is your dick on the chopping block.

BDSM & Depravity

Okay, so I took a month off and a bunch of shit happened. A bunch of fun, kinky, and good sex happened but shit happened. And have a happy new year bitches.

But in the time that I was also taking off, I've been planning something with my dearest kinksters. And in that time, one question keeps popping up.

You're okay with being brutalized?

That is the question I'm being asked. Not by one person. Not by two. But by a lot. And it is hard to answer yes because I want to explain. I want to tell them about the depravity that runs down and through my body and soul; but I don't. I just assure them I'm okay with it and continue on.

But I have to explore it. I have to feed something that has been gnawing at myself for more than a year. That's the craving for brutality. If I spend my days encouraging you guys to figure out your own sexualites, let me share this. Let me tell you my fucking story.

I've been hurt and beaten down (in the figurative sense here). I was a self-harmer for about 3 years. I was known for cutting, scratching, and dragging scissors across my skins. For an extensive period of my high school life I wore scar patches to tend to the wounds and create elaborate stories of how I got hurt.

That was the time when pain began to be a part of my life. It was a time when I struggled to feel more alive than when pain was a part of my routine. Without that pain, I felt suffocated and at a loss.

But as the wounds began to heal on my skin and on my heart I began to take on this idea that from pain comes beauty. Life is life because of pain. Life is life because of healing and feeling. And I need pain, physical pain, to reach my own heightened existence.

It started with little things like hair pulling and using asphyxiation as an orgasm trigger. Biting was another orgasm trigger. And I realized the rougher I was given the rougher I wanted it. But the rougher I sought to give, too. Until I found myself being unfilled by "sex". By the casual fuck sessions between me and my "lovers". Something was missing. And in my subconscious, the whispers...

I want to be brutalized...

That was months and many more months echoing in my head before I found myself in the lifestyle. And it has been nearly years before what is coming had been dreamed up.

There inside my head is a craving for sexual brutality. This need to give myself over to them and say it is okay to break me. If I never want it again, I will have fed the beast inside.

I'm fucking ready.

Spellbound

I write about all of the BDSM scenes that stand out. I write about the ones I do in public, the ones that change who I am, and the ones that I try for the first time. So why is it that I wouldn't want to write about this one? Why is it that I wouldn't want to write about the one that everyone wanted to ask about?

Because I don't know how it fucking happened.

I simply know that it was.

Don't give me that cynical look like you've never been swept up in a goddamn moment before. I know better. We all have. We all have moments where we look back and say, "How the hell did I end up here?"

I simply know that I was standing and talking to two of my friends at the party and I can't even remember why or what I said that was an off-handed side comment in his general direction. Just that it got his attention.

And then I simply do not know.

I know I was lucid but it was like Bette Midler had strolled up in the bar and cast a spell on me.

I'm sure it had something and everything to do with the way he talked about mental dominance and how the most sadistic thing he could do is stop.

I just know I was terrified of this man. Don't worry, it isn't like this is some big shocking confession, he knew. I remember the shock of finding myself naked. I don't remember the point when everyone else stopped existing and it was our world. And I don't know how I got there. In fact, later it would be explained to me as if he and I were the only ones that mattered, I was in a trance early on.

Then it happened. People came up again to compliment my scene and to tell me how amazing it was to watch. I had forgotten there were people there witnessing it. Each and every time I enter subspace it feels a little more like home and I love to go deeper and deeper still. I want to reach the point to where my very existence feels subliminal like a part of the cosmos. And in a scene where my mind can be given, I might get there someday.

That's Miss Sabina, to you!

Ever had one of those experiences that changes your life? Gives you confidence, strength, and ultimate power? I have and [Aristotle] gave that to me. He handed it to me on a goddamn silver platter the moment he said he wanted to submit to me.

For years, I have known that I have a dominant side in me. I've dabbled in topping and in masturbation control. It is a thrill that I feel deep inside when a man begs for my permission, generosity or mercy.

But this is what I've wanted; what I've craved.

I wanted to cause the sound of the whip. I wanted to control, demand, punish, and reward.

I haven't found a lot of men confident in their own sexuality to lose control to a woman. I've seen fear in their eyes or heard it in their voice. But then when you plant a "Get the Fuck Over Here Kiss" (trademarks pending), it makes them question their resolve. But [Aristotle], he is different.

He knew that by agreeing to meet me, he would be mine. My pleasure would come from control and his pleasure would belong to me. He showed up in a black shirt just like I told him to and everything stirred in my veins. Blood pumping hot and strong, power driving my moves, my panties getting wet, stimulus overload.

And in public, I made his face the most beautiful shade of red by making sure he knew exactly what was coming his way. I'm not the most handy person when it comes to creating things but I managed to rig a complete door jam to string my little sub to the front door. It worked beautifully and I am fucking proud of it!

I put together a sampler platter of goodies for us to try. Well, really, I wanted to try and test the waters but I needed to know what we would both like. There was a lot of shoving my wet fingers down his throat, whipping, and making sure he knew his place was beneath me and he would kneel if I said kneel. He wasn't even allowed to talk unless I decided to grant his permission.

I've never felt such a high. Never had my own excitement running down my legs.

Until then.

Our scene ended in more fantasy fulfillment when I untied him and granted him permission to pleasure me until we were a glistening heap of sexed bodies on the living room floor.

And in the moments after, I knew the side of me I'd tried to find for years.

Her name My name is Miss Sabina, and I'm fucking hott.

You Did What in Public?

I try to make it a point to go to the different fetish parties around town each month. So I went again. And it may classify as one of the best ones yet, at least for my personal experience.

First you have to know, vainly, how absolutely stellar I looked. I had picked up a fetish corset piece. It isn't a real corset and just something for fun and a vinyl mini-skirt. I honestly felt drop dead gorgeous.

The high that I felt from feeling that beautiful was only bolstered by the rest of the evening. I approached a friend at the party; she is a wonderful woman. I asked her if she would be willing to do a scene with me at this party and she agreed. I was ecstatic.

An hour later, I found myself on a stage, in nothing but my lace panties, being cuffed to a huge wooden suspension rig in front of a bar full of people. Cue one of the most amazing experiences of my life. From there came the blindfold, the breast torture, and the public lashings. If I had had any doubts before I left that house that day about who I was really becoming, it all floated beautifully away with each hit as I became soundly and profoundly a version of myself that I loved.

And as the orgasms came (pun intended, you see), I was held up by the cuffs, caught by warm hands, and tenderly cared for as my head was somewhere off in the subspace and my body was just a pile of pretty squishy mush. And as I flittered around in the arms of my friends and caregivers, I heard the most wonderful compliments about how great it was to watch or that I was a beautiful bottom and so on. The high from that experience was unprecedented, unimaginable, and totally blissful.

If I am honest with myself, when I left the house that night wearing that outfit, I thought to myself the me from 5 years ago would not recognize the me from today. But I love the person I am becoming. The person who is okay with her sexuality. The girl who is okay helping others with their sexuality. The woman who feels empowered by her own strength.

Life is Balance

There is never a way to get out of the inevitable balance that is life. Life is beautiful, you know I think that but sometimes it's just a bitch. I mean it. One minute you're enjoying yourself and in the very next breath you find yourself in the middle of a tornadic shit storm.

If I am honest, I am exaggerating a little bit, but it is how I feel. 

I'm in the middle of something I was afraid to feel. I'm in the middle of a sub drop.

A sub drop is (and its equally opposite top drop but I can't talk about that) when the all the endorphins that are pumping through your body through and after a scene bottom out and dissipate. It is an emotional and a physical state stress.

After a weekend of fun, scenes, friends, booze, and sex I feel empty. I don't like it. I don't want this. I want to bask in after glows and happiness. Instead of that, at 2AM I'm asking someone what the hell is happening to me.

There are a lot reactions that each individual could feel from bitchy, needy, whiny, lonely, etc. What I feel or more prominently when the drop first occurred I was very scared, reclusive, confused and I didn't want to be touched. I was unsure of everything about myself. It is a very ugly place to be.

And also extremely apologetic. I felt like I corrupted the world and it was all my fault.

Aftercare, which isn't something I have really talked about, can help curb this and help bring you down safely but it isn't a foolproof resolve. I will write about that too, but the cosmos had to fucking know about the ugly side of this. The part that says everything is in fucking a balance and just to get over it.

Also, writing helped. So there is that.

Shocking Revelations

About a month ago, I told you that I went to a fetish party. Last time, I was considerably late everything was winding down and it was simply very sensual but I was not actively participating. But this time. This time was different.

What was different this time?

I promise it had nothing to do with the beer I had before I got there.

Or the three drinks I had while I was there. Totally not.

What I experienced was a new level of high. Dabbles in voyeurism and exhibitionism; raw sexual energy could be found everywhere.

It wouldn't be long before the feeling that was coursing over my skin and through my veins would be more than adrenaline. I found myself in a dark bar, surrounded by friends who had their eyes on me but my eyes were only on us. A man, a master of the violet wand, who would open up my world. Who would soon be tearing screaming electricity up my skirt, across my body, and down my exposed cleavage.

This was the experience that would change it all.

I could feel the eyes of people around me. They came back to tell me later they saw the moment I lost myself to the spacey feeling of pure pleasure. They watched as I made a quiet plea for him to touch me. And I don't know if anyone will ever know how close I was to cumming. There on that table where I was unable to control a side of me that wants to be free.

A side that was open enough to later strip down, be quite more than half naked in front of a bar full of people. I climbed up on that table, naked in only boots and panties and was taken to a place where I was in pure bliss. Hot, burning wax was being poured onto my flesh and all I could do was think.

I could hear what they were saying. The voices that were so far away. I heard words like "She's so pretty" or "lovely" or "she looks wonderful" floating in on little whispers as I stopped the tears from falling. For in that place, in the place where no one could reach me, in the place where pain pricks and pleases, I realized that I am flawed and I am always going to be that way. I lay there bare and exposed but my heart wept with the social anxiety of 20 years but as their words floated in and around me, carrying me on a cloud, I knew I was naked and I knew I was beautiful.

And I know I will be okay.

This party is not for the faint of heart. There are beatings. There are violent words. There is pain. But there is pleasure. There is a world of understanding and it is waiting to be found. If you think you're interested in this, don't wait. Please, don't hesitate to feel this.

**Image Credit: electroplyr - ArtoftheVioletWand.com

Fetish Confessions: Mistress Lisa

Today I have the pleasure of talking to a fellow female. Someone who can appreciate the power behind a woman in charge. You win yourself a lot favor with me if you understand the reference behind her name, if you don't know, you'll find out. Joining me today is Mistress Lisa.

Mistress Lisa's fetishes: Cuckolding, RP, BDSM, and voyeurism.

How long have these been a thing for you?

I've been interested in voyeurism since I was a teenager. I remember watching some scrambled Cinemax porn, and then later finding some movies in my parents' room (not home movies, ugh--just old porn tapes) and being very intrigued by the idea of watching other people have sex, or letting people watch me.

Sadly, I didn't get into the idea of BDSM and roleplaying until I was an adult and read (again, ugh) 50 Shades of Grey, which is an awful, horrible book and yet I could not explain why it turned me on. Intrigued, I began googling for other books that might explore the same themes and came across the most influential thing that I've ever encountered, sexually: Anne Rice's "Sleeping Beauty" trilogy. This was the catalyst for a lot of major life changes for me, one of which was realizing that I was turned on by some bizarre things, that that was okay, and that it was time for me to explore them.

For the record, if you like Sleeping Beauty, Anne Rice also wrote "Exit to Eden" and it was turned into a movie in the 90s. My first movie with sex and my first introduction to BDSM and whipping. It changed my life. I knew I wanted to be Mistress Lisa but I was also so intrigued by the arousal of being spanked, blindfolded, etc.

On the same idea, going from the idea of a cuckolding fetish, what do you think about FemDom and women being in the position of control?

It's interesting (at least to me)... I have always strongly identified as a submissive in role-play and BDSM encounters. I think it's because I'm such a control freak in real life that it feels completely foreign and intoxicating to be out of control during sex. However, recently I met someone that I liked very much, and after getting to know one another a little better, he let me know that he was interested in FemDom and/or cuckolding. So I've been playing around with it, and with him a little bit. Much of the time it's still terrifying to me, but it's also fun--like wearing something completely fabulous that you would never choose yourself, but that looks great on you. It's hard to explain. Overall, my philosophy on fetishes (and sexuality in general) is: if it feels good, and it doesn't hurt anyone (without their consent!), then go for it. I may not be into it, but I won't judge you--and I'll always try anything once (unless it involves kids, animals, or shit).

Of all the things you said there, you did not imply that watersports/golden showers were off limits... Is that going too far?

Watersports/golden showers... it's not exactly going too far, I think, but it does nothing for me. I would pee on someone if they asked me to, but I'm never going to initiate it and I draw a hard line at being peed on.

A "your fetish, not mine" kind of deal. Can you pinpoint what it is about your fetishes that makes them such a powerful turn on?

Not really, no. Like I said earlier, there's the idea of being out of control which is thrilling, but it's more than that. I'm a very sensual person, in the literal sense of the word. I tie emotions very strongly to encounters with my five senses, and there is just something about role-playing that helps me step off the hamster wheel in my own head and into my senses. As far as voyeurism goes... well, it's just fucking hot to watch people get each other off, right? And it's equally as hot to let them watch you.

You also said you're a voyeur. Do you like watching people in all sexual aspects including masturbation, oral, and intercourse? Don't you want to participate?

I love watching masturbation. I love it. At one time I was active in the Chaturbate community (a site where you broadcast yourself masturbating live on webcam, either for free or for pay) but haven't done that in a while. 

I like watching everything basically. Of course I want to participate, but often I find it hotter to pretend I can't. Like it's a secret and/or they don't know I'm watching. It helps that I do a lot of voyeurism via webcam, so it's hard for me to participate (although I do play along at home :)). 

As far as voyeurism goes, if sex weren't so taboo and people could separate private and professional lives, I would love to have sex and put my sex-capades on the internet as amateur porn but that is honestly a can of worms that I am not willing to open. Do you like to photo swap or video yourself with partners? I find it thrilling and love that people share that little piece of themselves with me.

I'm a HUGE fan of photo and video swapping and/or sexting. I do a ton of it with people I've met online. For the most part I am careful about not using or sending any photos with my face or identifying features, on the off chance they end up posted somewhere. I say "for the most part" because there are some people that I trust, who DO have photos of me that could be used to hurt me. I also have photos of them that I could use against them if needed.

Are your sexual interests something that you are open about or do you only share it with a select few?

No, very few of my friends know about my secret life :). If I hear someone talking about 50 Shades or BDSM, I'll occasionally bring it up tentatively, but back away quickly if I don't see a flash of recognition. I actually don't think any of my friends know about my sexual proclivities, now that I think about it. It is usually something that comes up early on when I meet a new guy or girl, in a romantic sense. I need to know that we're going to be on the same page sexually before I take things too far.

Being a fetishist, do you find that you are more or less attracted to other fetishists? Could you be with someone who didn’t really have a kinky side?

I definitely could not be with someone who wasn't at least open to my kinks. I don't want or need roleplay or public sex every time--there is a time and a place for vanilla sex too!--but without any variety, things get boring quickly. I was with someone for over a decade who wasn't sexually adventurous, and it was really tough.

I understand your struggle there. At the bare of it, I think we all have those skeletons in our closet.

What do you think of the quote: "A kink is a thrill, and a fetish is a must"?

As for that quote, to me that quote perfectly defines the clinical definition between kinks and fetishes (yeah, I do a lot of reading, I'm a nerd). A "kink" is something you enjoy doing, but a "fetish", in the clinical sense, is so all-consuming that you either can't get sexually aroused, or can't achieve orgasm, without it. By that definition, I have zero fetishes. I love sex in every way, shape, and form, and I can't imagine myself getting to a point where I HAVE to be spanked or watched or taken from behind in order to get off.

It is safe to say that every time I am spanked or taken from behind I am going to get off, though!

BONUS QUESTION!

Is there one fetish that could potentially land you behind bars? You know, because oral and anal sex are both illegal in Louisiana.

I think my only fetish that could land me in the slammer is having sex in a public place (and I'm pretty lucky I haven't gotten caught). And of course, if we're going by puritan laws, oral and anal -- but that's not a fetish, that's just normal, right?

Normal...I don’t even know what that means, anymore.

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Participating in Fetish Confessions is easy & I promise I will be gentle. Just visit me here and signup or email me! ❤

Reader's Response: What Did You Do?

It really is a special thrill when people comment on blog posts outside of the blog. I get messages, and comments, and text messages and even SnapChats about posts. It makes me feel like I have ascended to bad-ass status!

Today's question comes from Twitter:

I read your post about the swinger club and BDSM night. I was curious if you included yourself or just observed.

The short answer is that I just observed...this time.

When I walked in to the bar, I was nervous and had the creepy clammy hands going on while I drained my vaporizer tank. I didn't know what to expect. Coming around the corner, I was greeted with the most erotic seen I have ever laid eyes one.

There was a beautifully naked woman on stage who was being roped and bound. She looked like she was in heaven. I was instantly drunk watching her.

Next to her, a woman was bent over the spanking benches with her skirt up around her waist.

I missed most of the party but I had never experienced anything so sensual and arousing. I didn't want to participate just then. I wanted to drink in the sights. There were flogging racks and I think I would very much like to be rigged to them one day. There were aftercare blankets because the community cares about safety and respect. It was wonderful. I will be back. I can't say I will get to participate very much as the newcomer but I will be back.

Image Credit: Boardwalk Empire

A Place to Call Home

If you can believe it, there are still somethings that frighten me.

My snarky and bullheadedness just leaves and makes way for a girl who is unsure of herself and timid.

I recently found out that there was a swingers club in my town. Of course, in my sexual nature it intrigued me a lot but I wrote it off, thinking that I could never go there. I wouldn't go alone and I surely would find none to go with me.

But then I found the community. I found [Mostly Harmless] and he changed my life.

The "underground" BDSM community that I wanted, that I sought after had been found. It turns out they have lavish parties and meetups and are extremely active yet entirely respectable. I was invited to go to the latest party. I was terrified. I don't like being this girl who doesn't know the ropes and doesn't know what to expect. I don't like being this girl.

So I could have stayed home. I could have been beaten by my own insecurities. But instead, I took my life into my own hands and went to that swingers club for a BDSM lifestyle party. I vaped an entire tank with my vaporizer. I looked like a lost puppy. But it was worth it. I walked into the most erotic scenes of my life. This is a turning point. I feel it.

I had to tell myself again that you can't change your stars without hard work. Exploring your sexuality can be scary and it can be intimidating but I encourage you to do it. Be heteroflexible, be spanked, be tied, be anything you fucking want!

Subspace Nine

Sometimes you have to allow your sexual journey to flow. Or sometimes you have to grab it by the balls and say I'm going to get laid. It was more the latter of those choices when I decided to say yes and get together with [Mostly Harmless].

This meeting though was about a little more than just sex. I was willing and actively seeking to engage in some S&M. I wanted to submit to someone. I wanted to put my body in their hands. I wanted to be punished. And it started with this, a line so dominating in its simplicity, and I was his:


 The next person who shall make you cum is me.And no other. Yourself included.


I didn't know what to do.

I was not scared. But I was nervous. I was lost.

That was when I showed up wearing only my too-short dress, my leather boots, and a willing attitude.

He taught me about safety. He explored my body. And my dominant side shut the fuck up. She let him take her.

And it went that I was whipped. I was spanked, paddled, and flogged. My flesh pricked and teased.

I have never had such a more blissful experience.

That's when I learned about subspace.

In a D/s relationship, [subspace is a] very special place the submissive enters when he/she totally trusts his/her Dominant, and totally immerses in an intense scene. The sub may not be capable of making rational decisions about his/her safety and well-being at this point. It is the responsibility of the Dom to provide for the welfare of his/her sub, as he/she has trusted him to do. It is also the Dom's responsibility after the scene to help the sub to return to "vanilla space" after the scene. This entails providing both physical and emotional assurance to the sub, until he/she regains his/her sense of self, and is known as, "aftercare".

It had been so long since someone had cared about my experience instead of what was just between my legs that I was drunk on endorphins. I let my soul connect to the pain and beat some of the negativity out of me. And when he introduced me to a wartenberg wheel, I had found a simple addiction. It was the was the same high that I would get from a tattoo needle sawing across my flesh.

I couldn't think straight. I couldn't SEE straight. And I was loud.

And as we lay there, waiting for my sanity to bring me back to reality I was warm, cuddled, and petted. We talked and touched and slowly the world came back but I was exhausted, beyond empty.

It was the most sexually satisfied I've ever been without having intercourse and I see the beauty in that. I can't even be sassy about it because I left her at home. That night was about the other side of me and that is okay, too.

Fetish Confessions: Teddy Bear Part I

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