I had my itch properly scratched last night by a Mistress who has been waiting to have some one-on-one time with my ass for six years. It was her birthday and I offered up my ass to the birthday Mistress for some special attention.

There was a lot of beating involved. Paddles, canes, floggers, crops…I wasn’t even sure what half of the things were that they (it turned into a Mistress and Co event…lol) ended up using because I was face down over a spanking bench baring my ass to a dungeon full of people.

This morning I woke up to the aftermath:


It’s been a long time since I had such a thorough work out. I was expecting to be wussy, but it’s amazing what a room full of people and an endurance kink will do for you.

I was pleased actually…it was just a nice level of discomfort. I stayed still and silent the whole time and just got into the zone.

All night I was trying desperately to have my subbie boy friend have his public spanking cherry popped, but we never quite got the timing right and there were so many people in line waiting to have some attention that before we knew it, it was 4am and time to go home.


I was planning to go to gym this morning, but I figured, I’d given my body enough punishment for the day, so I made a chocolate cake and stayed in bed.


Going to the toilet is an interesting experience when you’re too tender to sit on the seat…lol.


I’ve met a lot of people recently who are on all ends of the spectrum that I am learning to know as ‘kink’.

I used to think that being kinky meant being into bdsm; you were a sub or a dom, occasionally a slave or a master and every so often, you’d run into those almost mythical things called switches.

I was pretty happy with my label. I thought I’d discovered what I was: a sub and that I liked someone calling the shots and enjoyed being objectified and essentially being ‘used’ for sex.

Then I wanted to be a ‘slave’, to be owned and wear a collar all the time, to have no rights or choices, to be property.

And through all of this, my definition of myself and what I think I like and what I do has stayed pretty narrow. If I wasn’t too ashamed to admit it, I’d probably say that I thought my way the ‘twue’ way, that bdsm was the ‘ultimate’ kink and that everything else paled in comparison.

It was an arrogant way to think of things.

I’ve made some friends who are into cross-dressing; who want to top boys, but sub for girls; who enjoy putting skewers into their heads; who are pet puppies; who do nothing but have threesomes/skullfucks; who identify as women and want to have a lesbian relationship but are subbie boys; who are hedonists; curious; kinky; transgender, rope/latex/leather aficionados and everything in between.

My new thing when I go to munches or fetlife events is to ask people I meet, “What’s your deal?” or if I’ve seen their profile, I’ll say, “So you’re a x,y,z?” Not that it really matters I guess what they identify as and why they are there, but it gives me something to talk about other than the weather.

It used to be a lot easier because the ones in collars or on the floor/cross/spanking bench were subs/slaves and most of the doms would be sitting around on the chairs talking. When I think about how things used to be and how they are now, I kind of feel like I’m ‘old school’. 99% of the people I meet now don’t know anything about alt, using capital letters, talking in third person, positions, protocol etc. All those things that used to be part and parcel of being in the scene, just aren’t anymore. Being kinky meant being into bdsm and most people were into the whole spectrum of ‘bdsm activities’.

What this change in the scene means for me, is that it is extremely hard for me to find someone who ‘ticks all the boxes’. And actually when I think about it, it’s almost as if people’s kinks have become narrower and more defined. I’ve met a lot of men who call themselves ‘dominant’ but who don’t want to hurt someone. They don’t want to make their play partner cry or leave lasting marks on them. It’s like they want a bit of spice, but don’t want to get into anything too off-centre. I’ve also met ‘submissives’ who just want a bit of rope play or enjoy a rough fuck.

More and more I’m thinking that finding someone, just one person who can give me what I want is too hard. Am I going to have to get into the poly thing with different people fulfilling different roles just to have my itches scratched?



I popped my pirate wench costume cherry last night at a local bdsm event ball.

All of this:


Transformed me into this:


It was fun 🙂

Unfortunately I can’t lay claim to making any of this particular costume. The skirt I purchased a while back and have been waiting for the perfect time to wear it. It has little hooks on it so you can turn it into a bustle-type thing and I just love the lace and the bones patterning.


From the front:


And of course, accessories make the outfit:


Pistol, spyglass, eye patch, bandana etc.

I had many drinks of Kraken rum (release the you know what!!) and Captain Morgan served in cannonballs.


‘Twas lots of fun, me matey.


I’m not dead…

In case you were wondering…just a bit too busy and distracted to be writing.

This being social stuff is hard. How do you people do it all the time?

This past week I’ve steampunked, had an afternoon with skyrockets in flight, afternoon delights (and the Lego movie) had my modern board game cherry popped, had dinner with an ex-ballet dancer, had dinner with a mansion owner and on Friday I will be a pirate wench.

Interesting times.

The ex-ballet dancer was particularly fascinating. He’s a subbie boy with transgender awakenings and we shared our stories about ‘coming out’ as kinky to the ones we love and the soul-crushing rejection that ensued. It was disturbing how similar we were in our thoughts and experiences and there was that whole hilarity of two submissive people spending time together and trying to make a decision but each of them saying, “What do you want to do?” We couldn’t even get our timing to say goodbye right and hung around on the street corner for ages still chatting, finally parting ways when we made a promise to go on the next traffic light change.


The last two chapters of Desiderata is getting there – maybe 50%? at the moment. I’ll post when I’m happy with it so apologies if you’ve been chomping at the bit for the next instalment. I’ve had to make some decisions about it as well and if you’d read that last paragraph, you’d know what a bad situation that is for everyone involved.



There’s something disturbing

…about nibbling on a chocolate penis.

I’ve eaten the balls and shaft and only the white marshmallow-filled head is left.

I feel a bit weird, if truth be told, munching on the head of a penis, but munching I am as I write this in bed.

I’ve had a weird week. It started with me trying to make an artistic fruit-platter while I had a migraine, peaked with attendance at a performance by Shen Yun (during which I felt like I was in North Korea and was being inducted into the cult of Kim Jong Un) and then finished with roast chicken and a chocolate cock.

If that ain’t weird, I don’t know what is.

In story news, I’m down to the last two chapters and I’m totally stuck (I got nuthin’ people, nuthin’.)

In gym news, I pulled my right glute and had to take it easy for a while.

In being single news, I’m still very single and starting to have gloomy thoughts. It will be two months tomorrow since I moved out.

I’ve been reading a lot of articles that single girls write about how being single isn’t a crime and is nothing to be ashamed of, but those same articles always end with the sentiment that single girls still need to ‘put themselves out there’ (because being single is not really a good thing after all).

Mark told me the other day that I’m a person who needs to be in a relationship all.the.time. That’s probably true. So even though I’m an introvert and like people to leave me alone, I don’t like to be alone. I like to have people around me but not necessarily have to interact with them. When I come home to an empty apartment or I spend a day or two or three where I haven’t actually spoken a single word to anyone, that’s when it really hits home that I’m not very good at doing the single thing.

And this whole dating thing…I feel weird doing the chasing. I’d be much better off being told what to do. There’s entirely too much decision-making required on my part for me to feel comfortable.

I need a,  ‘Yo bitch, meet me here at such and such a time!’

Instead of a, ‘So….do you want to have coffee or something?’

To which I say, ‘Yes.’

Then comes another question,  ‘Where do you want to go?’.

Another decision!?!? Seriously…I can’t cope.

I’m a follower, not a leader. Or don’t men do that shit anymore?

And if I do make it through the coffee landmine, then there is the follow-up landmine. Am I supposed to do the follow-up email/text/phonecall? If they don’t do it, does that mean they are waiting for me or it’s just not a happening thing?

I’ve been erring on the side of the latter recently and waiting for them to make the first move thinking that if they’re not saying, “Hey nice to meet you, let’s do something else next week,” then they thought I was a crusty old crone and they’re looking for someone fifteen years younger than me.

But then I was wondering if me contacting them would actually be a good exercise in me giving feedback instead of being passive & reactive.

It’s a frickin’ landmine.

In humourous news, I just saw the bad lip-reading version of Game of Thrones. I don’t know how I’ve not seen it for the last 8 months, but apparently I was living under a rock. If you haven’t seen it go forth:

And was it only me who got all sentimental about the Starks after watching this?