Someone Finally Called Me a Whore

It's no big secret that last year, when I turned 27, I decided to change my life. I wanted to live with no expectations and I succeeded. I came into my own life; I fell in love with my body, found my sexuality, and I had sex with some people. I mean, I literally tripled the amount of people I had slept with last year. I joined into my local BDSM community where I would proceed to get naked, beaten, battered, and degraded in public. I'd soon learn that I would be a cumming little slut all the time, too.

And what do I do with all that experience?

I write about it. I blog and share my experiences with readers from all over the state, country, and world. And then, people ask me questions about their own sexuality and I get to answer them. Because now I am a conduit for information and exploration.

And I love this about me. I love that I am proud of my sexuality. I love that I am identified and known by a name I chose, Sabina. And when I wanted to make that more, add more to it, I took a last name, Harlot. Sabina Harlot... Sabina the Whore. Why does this have to be bad?

Why is the word whore so bad?

It isn't. It is only as bad as the power I give it. And so I'm reclaiming it. In fact, I am bringing back the antiquated word, Harlot. Because why not add a little flare?

I like my name, I like my identity and I decided to implement and brand that with my blog as the actual author. So I made a blogger facebook page. I did this because I'm a dreamer and I want to take this somewhere. I want big things in life.

So why, if I'm proud to be who I am and am a self-claimed Harlot, did it piss me off so bad that someone** called me a whore? "Whore simply doesn't fit the vision I had for Sabina..."

It wasn't that he called me a whore.

It was that he thought he got to choose who I am supposed to be. NO! I get to chose that because it is my life, my sex life, and these are my friends and my partners. He doesn't know them, barely knows me, and he doesn't get to chose who Sabina is.

I get to live this life once and only once. You get to you live your's, too. I'm going to shout it from the rooftops about the sex that I had if I want to. I'm going to erase the idea that women can't embrace their sexuality because damn it, we get notches on our bedposts, too!

**For the record, this wasn't a random stranger. This was someone I know closely and intimately and value with my life. I could give two fucks less what a stranger thinks.

When Stella Got Her Group On

When I first mentioned that I had tumbled my way into a threesome, you guys were on fire with questions about details, suggestions, and so on. I got to talk to some of you one on one about it, but now there is more. More spice, more people, more a little bit of everything.

And while I can say it was fun/exciting, I was with people I love and find undeniably sexy, the idea of group sex, I have found it lacking. I give up on trying to figure out how things happen any more, I've said this so many times I can't count anymore, but that's because it is true.

Life is pretty fun when you're seeing a couple on a regular basis. They make your heart happy. You care about them. And sex is always a thrill ride. And that's how it started...us. But our us suddenly became more. And while I had my totally vain moment of "it's all about me" because that is what happens when I am with a new partner, our three became four.

And what a trip. This was a scene that someone who sexplores wants; the one straight out of porn. You know, the one where everyone is handsy, fetishy, and fucking? But still, something kept nagging at me, and that is because I had lost my physical connection with one of the people. When there are three people, I can touch everyone; I can kiss and cuddle and snugglefuck with both people at the same time in some form or fashion. When there are more than three, I lose that. It is a division of labor where there are two couples and very little cross pollination. That is one of my favorite parts of sex, is being touchy feel with my partners. Touching them, and having them touch me. And that is why I need it, that is why this lost just a little bit of appeal for me; but you live, you learn, yolo.

I hate myself for saying that.

But the part that isn't just "hey I did this", is that I want to make sure people realize that there is a responsible way to be reckless. There is a breaking point where you stop and make those sane and rational decisions in these heated moment. You still make sure to ask for consent, you make sure protection is available and used, you make sure you ask all the right questions (i.e. Are you drug and disease free?).

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."

Guest Post: Sexuality Self Discovery

Snarky Sass has been blogging here for a year and I've been wracking my brain to figure out what I would write for her. I’d considered writing about my vanilla tastes and about losing my virginity until I was 26, but nothing seemed right. It’s funny, though; that what I’m going to write about in some way incorporates both of those things. Consider my guest post today a coming out of sorts. I’m demisexual.

Consider LGBTQIAAP. I've heard of heterosexual, homosexual, and recently asexual and pansexual, but … demisexual? To be perfectly honest, I didn't know even know what that meant until recently, but it has opened up a world of knowledge and understanding about myself that I’m so fortunate to be absorbing. So, how did I get here and what does it mean and how can it relate to you?

As previously mentioned, I lost my virginity at 26 and I’m now 27 and have had one sexual partner. In 2013, I wrote a note to one of my favorite Youtubers for her weekly Q&A show and confessed to being a 26 year old virgin. I asked her advice as I was worried how I’d be perceived. Her response was fantastic and made me feel so much better about myself. Fast forward to later that year when I ended up having a short-lived sexual relationship with a good friend. We were very close and had formed an emotional bond over the course of our revived friendship. This ended very abruptly when he decided to pursue another woman and break it off. I was hurt and confused. The sting of rejection was very real and I wondered if there was something wrong with me. I spent the majority of 2014 wondering that as I looked around at the people that I know with healthy sex lives, some with multiple partners. I thought I was defective.

I share that very personal part of my life to explain something. I never really understood why I hadn't lost my virginity before then. I always thought it was just because I was a big girl. I blamed a lot of my lack of relationships on my weight. I realize now that I was not out seeking them either. As I reflect, even my profiles on OkCupid or any other dating site has never been made for casual sex. I have never desired hookups, but of the few guys that I’ve talked to or casually dated over the course of my adult life, I've never had sex with any of them. Because I didn’t want to. At first I thought it was because I wasn't “ready.” In truth, I just never found them sexually attractive or we did not have a strong enough connection for me to warrant opening myself up to another person in that way.

I now know that I am demisexual, which is on the asexual spectrum. Once I read a description (A demisexual is someone who only experiences sexual attraction after an emotional bond (not necessarily romantic) is formed), I felt a sudden release of relief. Could this be the name for what I’ve felt all of these years? The idea of sex appeals to me, but I never have been able to imagine myself having casual sex with someone that I’m not somehow committed to.

I’m not defective; I’m not broken. I just do sexuality in a different way. It has to mean something. I’m not a prude. I don’t need to lower my standards. I just have to feel. I have to connect. For me, it’s not just emotion, it’s romance, it’s intellectual. Brainy is the new sexy, after all.

This new information has answered so many questions that I've had about past experiences. When talking to a guy last year, I couldn't seal the deal, as it were. We’re friends, not good friends, but friends. But our bond isn't deep. I found him sensually attractive and the idea of cuddling with him and possibly kissing him was appealing, but the idea of anything beyond that repulsed me. That’s not his fault and it’s not my fault, we’re just not connected in that way. But we’d talk about it and I’d keep putting it off and putting it off. Now I know why.

I’m not sure how this will affect future relationships. I’m still learning so much and I will have to figure out how to mitigate the backlash that I may receive when I have to tell someone that I might not be interested in them sexually. I do prefer sex with men, which makes me a demi-heterosexual. And it’s not as if I’m absolutely repulsed by sex. I still get aroused, but I don’t care for porn and I masturbate generally to relieve stress. Even still, imaging myself with the right partner gives me a rush. It makes me crave, hunger, and yearn. I still love the idea of sex, but for me, it just carries a lot more weight than for others.

So, yeah, here’s my coming out post. I’m demisexual. I’m new to this non-binary sexuality thing, so I’m looking to hopefully connect with a community, the same way that Snarky Sass has with the fetish community. It feels really good to understand this part of myself. I feel free in a way that I hadn't before.

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.

Binary Sexuality? Screw that!

In the old days, the middle ages, the days gone by, the times before now, people didn't really realize the spectrum that is sexuality. They couldn't understand how the brain worked and you were simply gay or straight.

Maybe a little crooked but that was for those shady folks you had to watch out for.

But as time went on and people thought the sexual psyche was worth looking into, out came the LGB...pun intended. Heaven forbid you like both!

As we become a more sophisticated society even that changes and who the hell cares about acronyms when you just keep adding letters... LGBTQIAAP.

But I'm here to make that even more complicated. Because I've given some serious thought to my own sexuality and I don't like that sexuality has to encompass both my idea of love and attraction. I'm weird. I always have been; so why should this be any different?

I want to seriously complicate this idea of sexuality and binary systems. I want to just be me. Every weird yet wonderful fucking thing about me.

I'm pansexual.

But that word belongs to me. It means something specific to me. It is tempered with my propensity for and lean towards hetero-romanticism. But don't argue that I'm not pan enough for you. Or I'm not straight enough for you. It isn't for you.

It is for me.

The Darkness Intriguing

Disclaimer: This may or may not be graphic in nature.

I expect to take flack from what I'm about to tell you. I expect your reactions to be stereotypical. Don't worry, I'm braced. I'm a big girl with big girl panties. I've already had this conversation with someone who needed it so here I am, telling the rest of the world.

I'm a fetishist. Yeah, I'm a freak. Every inch of me burns with the desire to feel that this is most abhorrent to the majority of the world. My soul finds that level of fucking freedom in the weirdest places. My skin has bruised shades of red that make people cringe. You think you like rough sex? This takes me higher.

And the reach of the freak inside burns deep. Because inside this little head of mine, and inside the heads of a lot of women, lays this darkness. This darkness that is too taboo, it is so bad that I told you I wouldn't even talk about it. But that's changed.

But at the depths my fantasies, do you know what lays there? Nonconsent. Rape.

Don't you dare judge me.

In the prettiest places in our psyches, it is the thing that scares us that elicits the beauty that is arousal. In the way you don't realize your body wants it, that is where this lays. And a lot of women, fetishist or not, experience this same pull to the bad.

This intrigue inside my head gets swept up and churned with the craved feeling of hands at my throat, smacks across my face, and level of rough intensity.

Do you know why I am telling you this? If you're a woman and you feel this way, if your girlfriend feels this way, you're not alone. That darkness doesn't have to swallow or make you ashamed of it. Because at the core, nonconsent is bad. But that doesn't mean you have to had from the fact that the bad things in the world make your skin electric instead of crawl in the darkness of your own bedroom.

This isn't a call for consent violations. Keep your dick in your pants, boys.

This is a notice that there are safe ways to explore even the parts of your mind you don't want to admit are there. And the consensual nonconsent can take you places you didn't know existed.

Consent. It isn't a blurred line. It is there or it isn't.

Nonconsent.

Arousing.



Image notes: This is an image in relationship to Erotic Asphyxiation. No rape or consent violation was explored or intended in the photo.

The Art & My Lack Thereof of Self-Seduction

It is no big secret that I currently sell sex toys for a living. I like the opportunity that it affords me to find things that might help people get their rocks off. The one thing that I have come to realize is that people want to know what you like; what gets you off. Maybe they think they're doing it wrong. Maybe they only want to talk to someone who fucking gets it.

But you know my secret? I suck at masturbating.

I've been asked to masturbate on camera, send pictures, etc. but I always say no. Because watching grass grow is going to be more exciting than watching me masturbate. I can promise you that.

I don't like to seduce myself. My body doesn't react to my touch the way it will to someone else. I can't touch my ears and make my whole body tingle. I can't light my nipples on fire with my tongue. I've never once been able to convince myself to get off with my fingers. What I like...and what I need...is for my masturbation sessions to be over quickly. 20 seconds is fine for me.

I can still recommend you the best realistic dildo there is, but stop asking which one I would use. If I am going to use a realistic dildo, it is going to be a real fucking penis attached to a living breathing person. Otherwise, sorry boys but penises aren't that pretty.

I can still tell you which rabbit is going to be the best, do the most, and have the best quality but I don't like them and I won't use them. As a sidenote, the beaded ones freak me out.

But if you want a good clit toy, oh girl, I've got you. My clit toys are all valued somewhere over $300 if you totaled them all up. And they're all different. Because when I am by myself, and it is just me, that is really all that matters. I like to lay there with the vibrations literally in hand, watch porn or read a story, get off, and sleep. That is what I want.

I'm not sorry that isn't sexy enough for you.

Dear Sabina: So You Want to Domme?

I decided to make a change and incorporate myself into the blog in a way that utilizes my sex-scene-name. We all have our vices and our stories, Sabina is mine, and come on, I had a thing for Dear Abby when I was 10.

I read your post about being a dominatrix for the first time and it sounds so wonderful. I've wanted to do this for my husband for a long time but I'm nervous. How can I get started?

Okay, so the first thing that you have to know is that I am by no stretch of the imagination an expert on the matter. I'm not even what I would call experienced. I'm just a sadomasochist who put a lot of effort into studying how to be safe with [Aristotle] and how to really get going. I spent some time talking to someone who has been a Domme for several years and she has collared submissives.

That said, this has to really be a part of who you are. You don't have to have a Type A personality out of the gate and this may not all come naturally to you at first but you have to want it. If you are going to feel awkward and out of place, it will only hurt your morale. So start by getting into the right mindset that you are a beautiful woman, you're forceful, and the very nature of the world should bend to your will. 

Find rhythm and strength in what makes you feel comfortable. Are you going to want to be in charge, cause him/her pain, make them pleasure you? What do you want out of it? Yes, I want all of those things and that is okay, too.

If you want to make the serious jump into it, start with education and knowing the safe ways to tie or hit someone. Yes, there are rules and there are safety things it isn't all just hot kink, though it is that, too. Don't use self-cinching ties when you're getting started, they can be dangerous. Don't hit someone in the spine. It all seems like common sense but mistakes can happen.

I also recommend reading BDSM 101 which is written with a snarky attitude from the point of view from a professional submissive. It is a wonderful read and a wonderful way to get started. And join websites that provide forums for education and ideas.

And also, clothes. The right look will be a nice bolster to your confidence.

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.

The Rules of the Game

Your sexuality belongs to you. It is yours for the molding, the shaping, and the experiencing. Not a single person will ever experience it like you. So why are you letting them shape it for you?

You will face judgement at every turn in your life and your sex life is one of those. So fucking get over it and live it the way you want to. And if you think it is easier said than done, I'm doing it everyday. So here are my words of wisdom. The rules of the game.

27 is not too old to get fingered outside in the Applebee's parking lot.

You're never too experienced to ask for something brand new.

When that hot guy with the nice dick comes to town, fuck him.

Don't let a messy bedroom stop you from a nice lay.

Don't be afraid to be just a little selfish.

Lick it before you stick it. 

Buy a sex toy. Go on. Treat yourself.

If you want to swipe right on Tinder just for that hookup... SWIPE RIGHT.

And if none of this is for you, that's okay. Be happy.

Reader's Response: Sexuality Concerns

I think that with this question it is important to remind people that I don't judge anyone. I take every question or every concern with the utmost respect and you can always feel free to ask me absolutely anything. I'm your safe zone because everyone fucking needs one sometimes.

My wife would like to try [pegging]. Does this have any hidden meanings about sexuality? Is she trying to tell me something?

I can't decide if you're asking if you should be concerned that she is bisexual or if this will effect your sexuality in anyway. Either way, the answer is absolutely not. Pegging has no bearing on anyone's sexuality. Straight men are still straight. Straight women are still straight.

Two things to note:

Pegging can be very empowering for women. It is a nice power exchange that allows the woman to take control and can be paired with strong fem-dom play or it can just be very sensual role reversal.

I know straight men and women who absolutely love it*. I'm an advocate for it and I would be happy to walk anyone through getting into it and set up with it.

Why are people so afraid of the fluidity of sex and sexuality, anyways?

*I also know bisexual, bi curious, and gay men and women who love it but that is obvious. But there are gay men that don't like it, for what its worth. Like I said... it isn't sexuality based. 

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.

Didn't I Say Crushes Aren't for Me?

So I haven't said much since I decided to be all bold and shit about being in like with [Lex Luthor]. I mean frankly, what else is there to say on the matter? Not much. But you see, I have been busy being a whiny bitch about whether or not he is thinking about me, what did the other night mean for him, etc. I have gotten on my own last damn nerves; I'm sorry if you're in my immediate vicinity and have to put up with me.

Now that I said that...

It doesn't get the rest of you off the hook.

There are lots of people who talk to me on the daily and read this blog; single people, poly couples, open couples, gay couples, kinksters, etc. That means that you guys, some of you, understand. So here I am. Looking to you for advice. It has been a long damn time since I've not known what to do.

This "crush" or whatever you might prefer to call it has resulted in a self-induced dry spell. There are definitely people that I want to bang, but none of them hold a candle to my interest in him. None of them are fulfilling what I want right now.

And I don't like that.

All because my brain decided to produce an inordinate amount of dopamine for this boy, I have made an ass out of myself by wearing my heart on my sleeve and I haven't had sex in almost two months.

Can you turn these off in your brain? Can you consciously say stop thinking about it (because really that just makes you think about thinking about him)?

I would like for this message from our sponsor to be over so I can return to my regular scheduled programming (until, if ever, he's ready)...if you catch my drift.

Crushes & Why They're Not For Me

I recently read a blog post about crushes that happened to mesh pretty fucking well with thoughts that were already inside this pretty little mind of mine. If by mesh you mean I think that it is totally wrong and I can completely explain why.

The post was about crushes. You know why they're called crushes? Because when they don't work out, your heart is crushed. It is ashes. Mother fucking crumpled and pitiful ashes.  The author of the post says that they believe in the obligation-free crush.

My crush is my own. It's nice if we share a mutual attraction, but even if you show no interest in my pudding-like physical form, I will still hang out with you. This isn't a contract where I will only do nice things for you unless you promise to smooch the hell out of me; no, we are friends, and while my friendship may be laced with a bit of intoxication over the idea of smooching you, I value your actual presence over my daydreams.

This, I can say, is true.

If you truly have the obligation-free crush, this isn't going anywhere. Even the revelation of a mutual attraction may not necessarily lead to hot bedside smoochenatings, as all mature adults understand that "Attraction does not equal automatic coupling." I'm attracted to any number of people who, in a vacuum, would probably warm my nethers...

Alright, this is not true...for me. Actually, it is this point right here that has me so discombobulated over the whole situation that I can't even see crooked because the world is spinning.

First, let me say I prefer to call it like over a crush. Okay, I like  someone. I am in like with someone. I had crushes in fifth grade. Now it is a little more serious.

But I would rather not like anyone. I don't want to be in like. I don't like being in like. It is scary.

I get attracted to a lot of people. Male or female. I can want to fuck as many people as I can handle but that is where I like for it to stay. It is easier for me. Easier for me than what happens when I like someone. In fact, it is such a big deal that I haven't actually liked anyone for nearly 8 years. Not like this. Not in a way that he feels so wonderfully inviting, safe, and like home but these emotions feel dangerous. I feel vulnerable.

I don't like it.

In fact, I can't fucking stand it.

Crushes hurt. Liking people hurts. It isn't beautiful and hopeful like "love". It is raw, confusing, and uncertain. It is a bunch of "Are they thinking about me?" and "Goddamit, I can't stop thinking about them!" with some "Should I look nice? Should I shave my legs? Is this enough cleavage?" thrown in just for added insecurity.

But I will take it all. Because I don't have a choice in the matter.

I know you're probably not reading this, but [Lex Luthor], I like you.

PSA: I'm Not Just Sex

So you're here and you're reading this blog; that means you know I have sex. You know I like talking about sex. You may not have known until this very moment that I now work in the sex industry (no, I'm not a porn star or a prostitute). I mean I fucking love everything this is about sex. It is beautiful, passionate, and pleasureful; what isn't to love? I enjoy making people feel comfortable with their bodies and their sexual identities.

But here is a little run down of how to behave when you meet me and/or my comrades:

1) Do not disrespect us. When I am on this blog I am sassy and honest. When I am work I am professional. But above that, I am human.

2) I will walk you through my most wicked fantasies. I will help you work through your own. That doesn't mean I will play through any of them, at all, with you.

3) I want you to ask me questions and confess your inner most fetishes with me. I will respect you and not judge you, I would like the same.

4) I actually have a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology. I like the way people interact, I like watching them. That also means that I am intelligent and that I have other interests to provide a potential mate than a hot twat.

There isn't just one reason that this needs to be said, and it is kind of pathetic that it needs to be said. I have had no negative responses like I was prepared for. I was prepared for slut-shaming and whore-slandering. But what I got was a call to lose my standards and consistent disrespect. I'm human and you are too.

I won't stop writing and I won't stop talking. More importantly, I won't stop fucking. And that takes away the bully power. I'm just me and I'm happy with it.

Image Credit: Pinup Bombshells