Tag Archive: fetlife


The Truth About Kinky Women, by Mr Zeitgeist

The Truth About Kinky Women

This was written in response to a FetLife post. The poster was wondering why no one was responding to his profile or his entreaties to be invited to parties.

You want to meet a girl that you can explore your kinky side with. That’s wonderful.

Let me ask you something:

  • Do you have a match.com or OK Cupid a profile that says “I’m a guy. I’m looking for a girl. If you’re a girl or know a girl, would you send her to me please?”
  • Suppose you’re into stamp collecting. Do you go into stamp-collecting forums and say “I’m a guy who thinks he may like stamp collecting, and I’m looking for a girl to fuck and teach me about stamp collecting.”?
  • Do you see a girl at Starbucks drinking coffee and say “Hey, I like coffee, too. Wanna fuck?”

Every time you post on here asking for people to “help you out,” that’s exactly what you’re doing.

You seem to think that just because a woman is into getting tied up, beaten, and fucked in the ass, she’s somehow different from a “normal” woman. You seem to think that just because a woman likes to have sex, talk about sex, and sometimes be naked in front of people, she should want to do that with you, without knowing anything at all about you except that you like women to get naked in front of you.

Submissives aren’t submissive to everyone

You’ll hear submissives say “I’m submissive, but I’m not yoursubmissive.” No matter how many times you’ve read The Story of O, there is no chateau full of submissive women who are available on demand to anyone who wants to use them.

Kinky women are not whores

Some kinky women may like it when their partner calls them “whore,” but they’re not sex workers. They’re not in the business of making sex of any sort available to all comers. (And contrary to popular belief, there is not a rule that actual sex workers have to accept whoever is willing to pay them.)

Kinky women are not easy

Some kinky women have multiple partners. Some women will do some sort of limited play with people they just met. As a rule most women will not get intimate with a guy they know nothing about. Kinky women are no different.

Kinky women are not objects

Sure, some women like being objectified, to be used as furniture, ashtrays, fuck toys, even toilets. But you know what? The women who like that trust the people who do that to them, Do you knowwhy they trust them? Because they know them as people. They have connected as human beings before they connected as kinksters.

Kinky women have feelings

Do some kinky women want to be humiliated, degraded, hurt, and used? Absolutely. This may be hard to understand, but while they may want all those things, they want them in a supportive, trusting, and caring environment. You call my girlfriend a bitch, she’ll kick your balls. I call her a bitch, and she melts in my arms.

See the difference?

( source as also hyperlinked in the title: http://mrzeitgeist.net/post/3899863983/the-truth-about-kinky-women. merci, mr zeitgeist, pour l’autorisation. )


		
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World Order: Fries < Onion Rings < Tater Tots

I am in love with the idea of the man I used to date, no longer ought to love, but am too nostalgic to let go of.

I need to become a project finisher; that is how I will become a playwright.

I vow to start writing down my crazy anecdotes; my memoirs will not be memories but news stories written in quick succession. 

Perhaps, however, I need to focus a little bit more on the career rather than wishing he would grab my rear, indulging a lust he can’t control. 

if you want to fight, I’ll grab your balls; you grab my rack 
So do just what you want to, have me as you will.
But don’t expect I’ll come running back
if you don’t have sass and skill. 

Catharsis, Come Relieve These Weary Bones

I have fallen out of writing about myself.
I have fallen out of writing about myself, for myself, and for no one else.
I started this blog as a space to tell someone else all the things I couldn’t tell PM
(even though I may have been entirely in denial about that at the time)
and I realize now that the loss of such dedication, such maintenance, of a private journal is one of the relics of this relationship.
He and I have just started talking again. I can’t tell anyone who knows all that we’re civil because they will think I’m softening my constitution, I can’t tell anyone who partially knows because they don’t care enough to want to listen, and I don’t feel like telling any more strangers. I’m tired of being that girl, who has that baggage, such that I’ve even stopped mentioning it to playmates except in the context of “What, you don’t want commitment either? Great! I’m toting around all this emotional baggage; let’s definitely not date; do not worry about me as clingy.” … which is so much better than being that hot mess of feelings, even if they refrain from including ‘weepy’.

I am still so angry at myself.
My roommate my junior year knew it; she watched and she spoke out and still I didn’t listen. God, all that feminist spine just crumpled. Wilted at the sight of beautiful big brown cow eyes that I got a jolt of electricity, deja vu even, the first time I ever made eye contact with. Is that just what I’m destined to carry as a curse; the ability to fall in love at first sight? See, while I tote around a whimsical mental list of future fiancés, I’d never had someone reciprocate. Or even respond to my pursuits.
What occurs to me now is that perhaps I misinterpreted his general ambivalent tone to mean compliance, or even interest. Did I think I snagged the world’s biggest procrastinator, the world’s biggest shmoozer, the world’s best politician (oh my goodness if he ran and had good political stances I’d be his domestic partner in a heartbeat. he’d actually be getting stuff done and I could do plenty of “culture” to give him mad bonus points and I’d get lots of funding in return! For the arts! … this entire idea, for the uninformed, is ludicrous because PM is about the least actively ambitious people; he is all talk and no walk. Unless it’s to the fridge to get a Diet Pepsi … or a beer. And so when I say that I’d be the wife to his politician, I actually mean it. Because his pursuit of something like that (while of course a popularity contest and pats on the back all around if you were picked team captain for kickball!) would mean that he was … getting something done. For someone, maybe, just maybe, other than himself.

So what am I doing for other people that’s not for myself? Isn’t an unpaid internship, rather than merely being free labor, a complete and total desperate attempt to say PAY ATTENTION TO ME PLEASE I WILL DO ANYTHING EVEN BARTER MY GOD GIVEN TIME AND TALENT TO YOU FOR NO RETURN EXCEPT THE VAGUE PROMISE OF TOMORROW IT BECOMING BETTER?? (Mind you I just wrote an article for an up-and-coming socio-political blog about this. See if you can find it.) … I don’t want to get into that now, except to say that both of the design jobs I’m doing are for theatre companies whose missions I believe in aka they produce new work potentially by people like me, ergo one day me if I keep sucking cock. Does the cock taste good? This time better than last time, but ain’t that always the way when you know what you’re doing…

My handsome harem, whom I can’t quite call my stable mainly because they are not all my subordinates I mean my submissives … they are good.
My one sub seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth, making me surprisingly glad I didn’t take him up on his offer for cyber-commitment … a sliver of my devil pries as to whether it was that lack of affirmation and public posession that has caused him to disappear but then I remember that his mother is dying and … that is probably why he hasn’t been in touch. Sometimes Lady Ray can remember her place. As a person. In the context of other people, rather than as Princess.

Some of them are swarming. I am overwhelmed, mainly because while I enjoy the attention, I want the commitment. Honey Jay, let’s call my ballerino sub, stood out (I think I’ve mentioned this right here before) at the beginning because he was paying attention and called me out. I stated what I wanted and he retaliated calling me out on fallacy. Which is funny, mainly because no one had ever questioned me. Probably because I’m trying to want what I can, in fact, have? Or is it I am finally wanted by the men who can’t or shouldn’t or oughn’t have me, but want me and pursue me anyways? Those guys are fun as playmates but I don’t want to be by myself all the other times…

My friends are busy and popular. And I keep trying to invite new friends into my space, but they are all busy and popular too so I either need to go out and keep them company in these spaces where they go for social world and networking, but I don’t need any more extension time out in to social space — I need the introvert’s Claritin — the one-on-one or maybe a group of three. And I know I could have it with someone I’m related to, many of them are just a phone call away but the phone is not the same.

I’m hoping the presence of this roommate will improve this, because it will be realfacetime with someone else. I’m apprehensive because she has stated she wants to keep all things separate, which is fine with me for food and toiletries, but for cookware too? We’ll have to clarify when she gets here but I was hoping to live with a buddy. When will my casserole dinner living partner come in? I think that’s living with someone you love. Whether you are also (sexually) naked with them is a different question. Or want to be, anyway. I’d like that, please. Whether it be friend, or honey. No more foes. No more discomfort in the home space. I am apprehensive but not without benefit of the doubt.

It is with heavy lids (after two early mornings for open calls where non union were dismissed after many hours of waiting idly by … I am also feeling discouraged in the world of one of my professions. It may be about time to start working on a very exciting, very ambitious project that I will be writing that I hope will embody everything that is to Eve Ensler’s Vagina Monologues AND Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In the Heights. Plus they both starred in theirs. Rock on.

I would like to start imagining my celebrity doppelgänger is Lucy Lawless.
Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess. MCA
My first reaction: A girl can dream
My real reaction: …oh wait, except there are so many reasons why it’s okay and no one will actually bat an eye so calm your titties Lady Ray, you’re awesome.

It’s kind of awesome to be your own cheerleader.

The cure to cooking food you’re bored of is to make something that you do not know what the taste will be.

In Having To Explain To Them…

… I am coming to understand me, too. 

“Well! The fact of the matter is that I don’t know if I am looking to do much of anything beyond “date” a whole bunch of people right now. I’ve gone on a slew of OkC happenings and a triumphant few have stayed on as friends, but many have fallen throughout the quest. So many of them said they were groovy after my “blah blah not looking for relationship blah blah no strings attached” speech and then third date rolls around, we sex, he goes nuts and won’t stop calling me. I’m like, how did I possibly find all of the hopeless romantics? Stop this. I’m looking for adventure and belt notching and communication and kink and lots and lots of stories and lessons from interesting sexy amazing humans. Plus, oh yeah, I’m trying to be an artist, whatever the fuck that looks like. So I don’t have time for you crazies who want to see me for a third time this week.
…Is that bad? I’m inclined not to think so, because I know I gave the speech. I got the no strings consent. So that’s been crummy to have to dismiss some budding hearts. I am just not looking for that kind of commitment or intimacy — I just removed myself from a Two Year That. This is my reclamation of self. I am a Whole Self, whereas I’ve been Half a Unit for a long time.”

***
He asks: 
1. What attracts you to dominating a submissive man?
2. Describe to me one of your most memorable, or favorite experiences as a domme (looking forward to this one)
3. If an experience with you was a prescription medication, what would the warning label say?

I respond:
“1. I am a bossy pants. I like knowing what’s going on and where things are going. I know what I like and I am pretty intuitive as to what other people like and I like making other people feel good because that makes me feel good. There is nothing sexier to me than being with someone who wants me so much that they will do what I tell them to, either to themselves or to me, and let me do what I want to them or me. I’m totally power hungry, and totally turned on right now just thinking about it.

2. Tying him, stark naked and spread eagled, on the bed – an arm or leg assigned to each corner. Blindfolding him. Teasing. Pleasuring. Denying. Indulging.

3. WARNING: May experience sudden mood swings, general spaciness, ‘mixed signals’, cynicism, and some emotional baggage that mostly stays checked. Feel free to consume with alcohol and/or marijuana, on occasion. Loyalty, honesty, and earnestness guaranteed.”

***

Ideal Domme, in the Form of a Haiku

Elastic vixen
Delights in torturing you
Because you want it

“Someone is Waiting…”

I didn’t go to FetLife to fall in love, but what do you do when someone posts:

“Ideally, I’d like to meet someone to explore new sights, new sounds, and tastes with me. Someone that’s as ambitious as I am and enthusiastically supports me in my endeavors. Someone that’s curious about the world and likes to keep up with what’s going on in it. Someone that thinks that staying in to cook dinner together and eating it with a bottle of wine makes a really good Friday night. Someone who will be silly with me. Someone that will take care of me while I’m sick (and vice versa). Someone that loves me despite my flaws. Who is close with her family and one day might want one of her own.”

 

This is everything that I want. Now be as beautiful as you sound, please, and love me.

“…Did I know her? Have I waited too long?
Maybe so, but maybe so has she.”

The Cast of Disposables

Today I would like to write a post that’s been on my mind for a while, and that is the Notch List, or as I mostly like to look at it, The Cast of Disposables.

1. PM. We hear plenty about him, so I’ll move on.

2. Let’s call him Arjun. Ethnic, no last name, one night stand, arrived at my house drunk as a skunk, grunted and pumped, we slept, we woke, we never spoke again.

3. Let’s call him SB, or Soul Brother. Effeminate but certain in himself, equally heartbroken, fluently musical, a future affair of the creative will be had, hopefully many times over. The sex was inevitable and fine for what it was. He is not what I seek, physically or emotionally. The latter is because he is just like me.

4. Let’s call this one Mr Dopey Hopey. This one is complicated bc, like SB, I already adore him as a new friend even though I found him in OkC conquest fashion. He is goofy, husky, grinny, good at what he does, friendly, and I think I might want to consider dating him when I’m not the lunatic I currently am. Afterwards, he was the one who said, ‘I mean, that was great but maybe it happened too soon? I’d sort of like to look at a relationship in the future or maybe consider it but I think we should refrain for now.’ Yup. Affirmative.

5. This next one is complicated. Let’s call him Jack Black Attack. (Not to be confused with Jack Black Doppelwhack who is my boss and I have a giant crush on. And have not slept with yet.) — he was our guest for pre Sandra Frankenstorm and with a voice like Zeus who sings like Jack Black Tenacious D style and he smokes every 20 min from his to go ‘cig’. A hardcore party boy even though he’s the oldest of the lot as of yet (28) … I thought he’d at least be around for a bit longer. Even if we didn’t have sex. Which was a little too sweaty and mechanical for me. Sweaty is good, but not if you are so ensconced in your rhythm that you let it drip from your temples onto my cheekbones without notice or comment. But he has recently bound a biddy, so I wish him the best even as it is sad to no longer have a local smoke and snuggle buddy.

I’m only halfway through and I’m so depressed. Honestly, this first half was the winners, then we had a lapse of ‘whatever, what’s a few more fucks’ and then some ones that I really did put hope into and then was crushed by reality.

6. Lipshitz will be his name. We had some awkward bar conversation and then went and mediocrely boned at his apt nearby and then I left.

7. Bellboy I should call again. A nice Jewish boy with a hearty jaw and general set of teeth (is it overbite? Underbite? Unknown. Uncared.) — not a bad lay, not a bad conversationalist. The problem has been my succumbing to his requests every time to smoke up and then all parties being stupidly high even though I might have preferred sobriety had I had a spine or brain at the time. Then he came over on a day that my mind was ashambles and I had to kick him out with little warning and that was that. Also he has the same name as my brother which makes my skin tingle, not in a good way.

8. Oh God, and then we get into awkward nose crinkling world. Beezer. Which I have thusly called him since we were 15. Obligatory poor life drunk choice boning. We laughed about it beforehand, told no one, and have not spoken one word about it after. And that’s just fine with me.

9. Then we have Ma, whose given name is the same as my grandmother’s nickname, so color me freakishly Freudian. Tall, foreign, scientifically oriented, employed, and owner to the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen (a true blue greyhound, so it doesn’t take much). The problem is his lack of social life (like, beyond what I would have offered there is NOTHING but the dog) and his lack of comprehending that when I said let’s NOT DATE that meant we don’t see each other every other day. I have been giving him the silent treatment wrapped in flirty flakiness whenever he crankily tries to insert himself back into my life and pants.

10. The next in the recent streak of Mistake Brigade, Buddha is the hottest of the messes. Enamored with me from minute 8 or so of our first work shift together, the small stocky man mustered up the courage to ask the statuesque single lady for a drink which she cheerily obliged to. First mistake, bc apparently that suggested more interest in him romantically than I had thought saying ‘Yeah, okay, let’s drink alcohol at the same time while talking’ implies. Possessive, crippling insecure, blindly chauvinistic, marijuana and medication dependent, and annoying, I realized after he became my resident leach that I can’t sustain the energy for my own Self Improvement Protocol, much less his much more daunting situation. The question then arises whether to grace him with a little time and friendship or to let it unravel as it will and as I fear he might.

11. And that brings us to The Situation, Mr Jersey film editor who literally couldn’t fathom that a woman might desire an orgasm as well. Good riddance.

You can understand my dismay and discouragement at this conquest list. So I’ve been rather liberal with my bodily distribution, but I guess I would have thought my discretion was a little less disastrous than this. What to do? Is it better to be horny and and alone than potentially overwhelmingly disappointed/disgusted/depressed? Probably. Solo pining just reminds me of what I let go though. And while PM still entertains interest in all things cyber sexy, he’s plenty busy boning whatever he can find in the Midwest and entertaining a creative sleep schedule. Extraction, Ray.

Is what I’m asking for too complicated? Too picky? Too needy? Too risky? FetLife titilates my inner chaste virgin but also rings out warning self protection bells, which I think are also important to hear. So far, mere emails. Maybe NYC’s BDSM community will prove more satisfactory. I’m hoping so. The combination of communication and kink suggests to me a world of sex positivity. Please let me be right.

What I Want Even Not I Know

Let it be known that PM is once again a free agent. Little did we know that all those tumultuous feelings would be felt and then shed so shortly after. And so what did we do? We had cyber sex. Twice. Am I full of poor life choices? You bet I am. Do I feel great? You bet I do. Not only did I cum twice, but we were kind and flirty and teasing and then I worked out and felt great about myself.

Yeah, I’m still in love with him. And I’m a little worried if simply bc there is a young man who has invited me to the X[]M (a shwanky hotel indeed, paid for by his company) this Monday night for ‘Netflix, Candlelight, whipped cream, and a steamy bath.’ Those are his words, verbatim. To which I balked and said you are seducing me, sir. And he didn’t deny it. Did I mention this man is an artistic, positive, well hung, less hairy version of PM? I’ve been typed and I’m living it out well. But as long as I’m clear, I’m in the clear right?

I’ve joined fetlife. My mother fears for my future life of sin on the burlesque stage, when really her concern should be the actual naked pictures of myself on the Internet. Not like she’ll ever know. *fingers crossed*

I was reviewing my belt notches earlier today. Two months ago, I had one. Now I have eleven. That’s pretty good. But what I realized in the notching was that of course I’m good at sex. I was good with only one notch. I was good before that notch and then when it happened that hunch was affirmed. So go me and now I get to do it where it feels good and you had better believe having his newly shorn virtual face grinning at me with glee as I lollygag about on my bed, trim and toned and naked as a jay bird, nothing he hasn’t seen before, but certainly what he wants to be holding… That feels good.

The problem is I’ve never stopped wanting him. The problem is I don’t only want him. The problem will be solved either when I get him the way I want him or when I do not want him anymore. Until then, I will take what I can have of him and of everyone else until I am able to figure out what, of what I have, is what I want.