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"hey baby, nice tits, where you going?"

Walking down the street, I am always alert.

I'm listening to the footsteps around me, very aware of group dynamics, how much space I have to move, what the street lighting is like, what my escape routes are. I cannot afford to be completely relaxed because judging wrong can be dangerous.
Street harassment is incredibly common. Stupidly so. I was in downtown Berkeley with Penny earlier, killing twenty minutes while we waited to go into a movie. We were in dresses and heels, nothing particularly notable or shocking, sitting and chatting with each other, obviously in the middle of conversation.

I counted 6 different men who approached one or both of us, interrupting our conversation (often really rudely) to "compliment" us, one even going so far as to get in her face to say "hey, nice tits". She had previously asked if I objected to her getting back in the face of someone who did that, and I said no, and was delighted to see her tell him to piss off and that she wasn't asking him. He gave a half-hearted apology- I heard him later whining to some girls that he was "just complimenting her" and "why did she flip out?" As we walked to the theatre, another guy wolf whistled and another followed us to the theatre, asking where we were going and could be be invited. 

Seriously? Does that EVER work? You wonder why she flipped out? Honestly?
I can give you two reasons. One, I was assaulted in the UK by someone who catcalled me and then proceeded to grab and kiss me, full on the mouth, while I tried to get to my bus stop in Stratford. It's not some vague "oh maybe it's violent" thing- it is a form of objectification, intimidation, and harassment. It is not a fucking compliment, and it's not meant to be- I have never seen a woman go up to a catcaller and ask him out, but I have seen many women try to make themselves look smaller, vacate an area, move more quickly and shield their body. 
Secondly, when I complained about this, a friend of mine, someone close to me, first asked what I was wearing, then told me that "we all have our crosses to bear" and that mine is that I'm "young, gorgeous and desirable". Funny, that. I didn't feel desired or gorgeous. I felt like prey. And there is nothing as invalidating as hearing from a friend, particularly a male friend, victim blaming bullshit. I get it- it's my fault for being Female In Public- shame on me. 
The fact is, I've been harassed in jeans and a sweatshirt more often than when I'm in a skimpy costume. Maybe I look more like I'm going to shank a dude when I dress up, because I feel the need to protect myself more viciously. Maybe I look more vulnerable when I'm not dressed in high femme. But I get this kind of attention all the time and it doesn't matter how I'm dressed, it's simply because I am Female In Public. I have friends who have been sexually harassed when they're with their children. Seriously? 
If your iPhone gets yanked from you on the street, I rarely if ever hear someone say "well, you shouldn't use your smartphone in public". 

I understand that it can be difficult to understand how threatening a seemingly harmless “Smile, beautiful!” can feel—but let’s get one thing straight. Go ask any woman in your life whom you respect—mother, sister, cousin, lover, or friend—how it makes her feel when she’s loudly and publicly objectified, the recipient of obscene comments like “suck my cock,” or followed down the street. I promise you that it doesn’t make her feel good or beautiful or respected.

Street harassment has a negative effect on us all. No single man wants the actions of a few to be attributed to his entire gender, but studies show that male harassers impact victims’ perception and reaction to men in general. Still, most street harassers aren’t “bad men”—they don’t fully realize why their actions are hurtful or disrespectful to the female population. Sometimes they don’t even realize they are harassing women at all....

...Men: would you find it complimentary if it were commonplace for other men to yell out “I’d like to take that home with me” or “Why the sad face? I’ll give you something to smile about” while following you down the street? Men who could, hypothetically, force you to go home with them if they wanted? Think about it. I suspect most of you would feel uncomfortable, threatened, even scared.

-A Good Man’s Guide to Catcalling, Katie J.M. Baker

It infuriates me to hear men defend this behaviour. Men I thought respected me, respected women generally. Men who know about sexual trauma.  Men who have some social consciousness, I thought. It's a misogynistic thing to defend, dude. It's not ok behaviour, and if you aren't going to combat it, I have to seriously wonder if you support it.

"It’s not a compliment if the recipient’s response is anger or hurt" says a blog post on iHollaback. Please, guys, if you actually want to make the world a safer place for the women in your life, to support them and fight sexism (which I hope you do) please think before you open your mouth. Otherwise, expect hostility. If you want a positive response, treat women as human rather than shout at and intimidate them. I can't believe I have to say that but I obviously do. And we need to speak up about this a lot more- no more sitting quietly not wanting to cause a fuss.

It's fuss-causing time, and you'd best watch out.

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Review: Chemistry Bubble Bath Set

I love taking relaxing bubble baths. It's one of the ways I recharge after long days ranting about the patriarchy. That and massage, anyway.

And of course, if you've read my blog for any length of time you also know that I am a big old geekette.

So when MyPleasure offered to send along this Chemistry Bubble Bath Set for me to try (in little test tubes! oh!) I had to give it a go. And it was really nice (much needed, as it turned out, as I've been having a rather intense few days lately!)

There's four different scents that come in this kit- rose, lavender, lemon/mint and pomegranate. Each one is labelled as having a different effect- rose is seduction, lavender is alluring, lemon/mint is vitality and pomegranate is sensual.

They have a cute little display rack as well, which may have a second life as a set of vases in the future! For now, I just liked how they had a little sexy mad science thing going on. Always a good time.

When I took these photos, I was using the lavender bath bubbles. As you can see there's a nice amount of froth over the bath, but not so much you're drowning in bubbles. I did generally find the scents to be gentle, not overpowering- that might be a negative for some people who want to dip into a sensory explosion, but as I have some chemical sensitivities it was ideal for me.

As an experience junkie, I really enjoy having choices. Being able to decide what mood I want to create for myself each night is pretty rad! I think my favourite scent ended up being the lemon/mint, which had a fresh citrus to it with a little minty slap in the ass to wake you up. I only used about half a bottle for each bath, so this'll get you 8 well-bubbled tub times.

My kitty Meep was kind of worried about me in the bath, though- she batted at the bubbles and meowed at me to get out before I dissolved. You can see the worry in her face! It was really cute watching her watch the bathtub warily.

Anyway, I really liked that I didn't feel film-y afterwards, and the tub was easy to clean. That's always important for a quality bath product. This might make a fun present for a chemist heading off for a conference, or anyone who enjoys the soothing nature of a hot bath.

Thank you MyPleasure for sending me the Chemistry Bubble Bath Set in exchange for a fair review!

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the girl in the mirror

Last year for Coming Out Day I wrote a piece about various things I kept relatively quiet that I decided to come out about last year. While Coming Out Day in the US was yesterday, the 12th is the day in the UK, so I wanted to do something similar this year.

This year, I'm coming out about my body image struggles.

I used to battle with bulimia/anorexia. Triggered in part by medication for depression that made me gain a ridiculous amount of weight, being shut away in hospitals and residential living programs that didn't feed us healthy balanced meals and rarely let us exercise, and already coming from overweight genes, I was pretty much going to be a fat girl. And god, I hated it. I was surrounded by girls who had gorgeous bodies and felt horrible about my body. When I discovered that some of the girls threw up their food, I gave it a go too. I was so desperate to be pretty.

In a world where I had very little control, my body was one of the only things I had mastery over. Whether I was not eating or I was purging, I couldn't take my medication on an empty stomach, so those had to go too. Not that I cared- I blamed the pills for adding the pounds on, and figured I'd rather be slender and crazy than fat and sane. I didn't have any models for attractive curves, and figured the boyfriends I had were attracted to my sexual forwardness, not my body. I wanted to change that- for people to find my body as attractive as my mind.

I was poor for a while there, eating food from pantries. Sometimes there would be bugs crawling in the wheat products. It was so unappealing that it wasn't hard to avoid eating at all. I worked in a mall, so would sometimes get through the day on one pretzel from the stand where a friend of mine worked. I walked to and from work, an hour long walk each way, often getting home at midnight. I would start to gag when I bent over because my body was so used to the routine. My energy came from caffeine and the occasional proper meal. And yet I still wasn't slender like I wanted to be.

I look at ads for weight loss pills and liposuction or tummy stapling and wonder "what if?" Would I be happier? Logically, I know probably not. But the heart sometimes yearns for the body I feel like I have and the body I actually have to be the same. In that way I feel a lot of compassion for the trans people I've known, that frustration when their bodies don't conform to the fashions they want or when they look at themselves and see someone totally different looking back. There's this anger at your body, a disassociation that happens- why does the girl in the mirror not look like the girl I am in my mind? I used to cut my breasts, belly and thighs, punishing my flesh for existing.

There are days still where I eat one meal a day, if that. Today, for example, I ate mac and cheese and a cupcake. I could probably go without eating again.

For a long time I was incredibly slutty in order to help myself feel attractive. I didn't think I could afford to be picky, after all. I put up with some awful men who would treat me poorly because I felt so convinced that as a fat girl I didn't get to be picky. It took me going to a party in SF where there was an award for "slut of the year" before I realized that wasn't something I wanted for myself, not anymore. I began to forge my self-esteem with a lot of difficulty.

My whole life it has been a fight to dress myself with any sense of style. When I want to buy clothes I have a choice between poorly made but kind of trendy or well made and out of style... and both choices are highly expensive. It's been almost impossible to find sexy lingerie that fits me, because companies feel fat girls don't need to feel attractive. Even now, with a lot more confidence, sometimes I go shopping and I come home and cry because it's just so depressing how hard it is to find clothes that fit my body.

I walk with a lot of sass, but I'm still subject to the same insecurities and shame about my body as everyone else. As much as I talk a lot about fat pride and fat being fit, I'm still scared that people overlook me, that I'm not as pretty as other girls. Being a fat girl certainly affects my work- I definitely can't have my prices as high or get as many clients as other girls. In the US, I deal with a lot more disrespect from people about my weight, from "clients" calling to make fun of me being a fat sex worker to well-meaning women in the street touching my stomach without asking, wondering out loud when I'm "due". I feel like my body is always on display, a prime target for ridicule and hatred. I mean, hell, even my grandma used to say things like "you'd be so pretty if you only lost 20 pounds". I rolled my eyes when she said it... but I also wondered. Would I?

And who'll defend a fattie? I mean, I'm only fat cause I don't exercise enough, right? Never mind that I've been to gyms where I have been whispered about for my body, or exercise classes where the instructor has singled me out and humiliated me in front of the class. I stopped doing that kind of exercise because it took so many emotional spoons just to be there. Now I do other things like dancing or walking, where it's less likely I'll have to put up with bullshit.

And of course when I'm in bed with a lover, I worry. I worry that they don't like my cellulite, my belly, my stretch marks. I look at them and wonder what they could possibly see in me. I hate that it's hard for me to kneel for lengths of time, that I'm not as flexible. It's really hard to fight back against all the media messages and fat jokes people toss around and see myself as beautiful. When a lover says to me that I'm beautiful, I blush hotly, unsure what to say, afraid if I say anything I'll burst into tears because it means so much to hear it. It's exhausting to fight body fascism, both within and without.

So that's what I'm coming out about this year. I am insecure about my body. I try to hide it, but it's there, all the time. Fake it til you make it, no?

Maybe one day I'll believe I'm beautiful

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dedication to Meep.

This is my cat Meep. She's been my cat for almost 10 years, so she's probably close to 14-15, as she was 5 when I got her from the shelter in Massachusetts. My friend Fluffy helped me pick her out- Scottish Nick named her Meep. When I had a flat of my own in Massachusetts, subsidized housing in what was pretty much a retirement community, I insisted to my landlord that I needed to be able to have a cat. He let me, and I adopted Meep, my first cat on my own. A fluffy Maine Coon, she reminded me of my cat Pixel that I had growing up who had died young. I felt like I was getting a second chance.

Meep was never much of a lap cat. She liked sitting next to you, purring up a storm, and would stretch out her paw to pat your arm and remind you she was there, waiting for more attention. Every friend of who met her thought she was the sweetest cat because she was just so friendly with everyone! I sometimes wished she would settle into my lap, but she was so tolerant with me otherwise. She was my family, my best friend, my stability, for years.

I struggled with depression pretty seriously in Massachusetts. It was a constant struggle, too, one that never let up. Having Meep there forced me to think of something other than myself- who would take care of Meep if something happened to me?  She helped me get my shit together. I cried into her fur so many times, and she would just purr me to sleep.

When I moved to California, Meep came with me in the plane. The carrier she had to be in was too small for her Maine Coon body! Thankfully I had an empty seat next to me and a nice man on the other side so it was ok for Meep to be on the chair next to me the whole time. She was so well behaved, quiet, nuzzling my hand. She's been with me for every move, from flat to flat, always settling in and being the sweetest cat. I even submitted her to Sex Workers Cats!

We had a health scare about 6 years ago, when she had a heart issue. We took her to the emergency room, grandma helped me pay for saving her life. She's trucked along til then. I wanted to bring her with me to the UK, but knew that her health was such that she couldn't handle it, certainly couldn't handle quarantine. I always worried she'd pass away while I wasn't there.

A month ago, she was diagnosed with cancer. She lost two pounds in a month. We did everything we could for her, but the vet said that there wasn't much we could do, that Maine Coons have this often. I was on my own when this happened, as grandma was away, my boyfriend in London. I took her home and set about making her as comfortable as I could while she died.

Last night I came home to find her at death's door. She had almost drowned herself in her water bowl. She couldn't walk anymore, just stumble her way around. I sat up with her for hours, petting her, crying, telling her how much I loved her. She had peed on herself, unable to stand or use the box, so I got a warm wet cloth and wiped her down, whispering to her how she changed my life and how much I'd miss her.

This morning, she was curled in the litter box. She's still breathing. The vet has an appointment for 3:20, if she lasts that long. I am devastated today to have to say goodbye to one of my oldest, bestest friends, part of my family, a huge part of my life.

Goodbye, Meep. I am so, so grateful to have found you, that day in Massachusetts. You kept me alive when there was no other hope in my heart. You loved me when I felt like I was fighting the world alone. You've been my pillow when my heart was broken. And you've taken care of me in so many ways.

I will miss you terribly.

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strong enough to let go.

I had originally written this to go up anonymously. But on reflection, it doesn't matter anymore if it's anonymous. The people who nursed me through know who he is, and he knows, and that's what matters. I wouldn't say it's a cautionary tale, per se, but it's a warning of sorts- be careful who you give your heart to, because it can be awfully easy to get lost in the GFE vs GF headweasels.

I fell in love with a client once.

It was completely unexpected. I have generally been good with emotional boundaries, having been in nonmonogamous relationships for years- I knew how to keep people as close or as distant as I needed to. It was part of what made me a good sex worker... or so I thought.

I remember the session. He had sent me a long email detailing this crazy scene that really weirded me out, and I was nervous about it- as a proDomme, I tended to make it clear that I would do as much or as little as I wanted, but I still tried to satisfy some of the clients needs. He wanted me to spit in his face, to restrain him in a variety of intense ways as I humiliated him, things I didn't tend to do with my lovers at home. I worried we wouldn't click well during the session, but I was determined to try.
I walked into the dungeon and he was so attractive I could't believe it. Only a few years older than me, hot, and submissive? It seemed like a dream. I gathered myself together, determined to offer a dominant experience that would be sexy for us both, and then just walk away. I tied him up and called him all manner of humiliating things and found myself turned on by how he reacted, by the way he writhed for me. When he left, I stopped myself from asking him out for a drink, and took the train back home, confused, but figuring I wouldn't see him again.
He wrote back the next day wanting to book another session that week. I agreed and instantly felt butterflies in my stomach.
I felt so unprofessional, so unsteady. There was a forum for sex workers, and I posted there, asking if any of the girls had ever felt that kind of attraction to their clients before. Some had, some hadn't, and all sorts of advice was offered to me to help me work out what to do. Ultimately I was asked the important question- could I afford to lose him as a client? I thought about it, my heart asking if I could afford to not take a chance.
So we had another session, and it was both incredibly sexy and absolutely hilarious. I tripped over my heels, and we giggled about it, an intimacy developing between us where I no longer felt on a pedestal. Two hours later, as we snuggled for some aftercare, I decided to go for it and ask him if he wanted to go to a fetish market with me, as he had commented on his lack of kinky clothes. He accepted, and we made plans.
I immediately panicked and asked my girlfriend to come with me to keep me from making a mistake and maybe let me know if I was being ridiculous and misreading him. Together we browsed stalls filled with kinky toys and pinstriped clothes, trying things on and trying toys out. There was an ease to our interactions, a comfortable friendliness, and my girlfriend said to me that she thought he liked me too (I see to recall she was ok with him, but not overly fond). So I did the suave thing before we parted ways and said teasingly "you know... if you let me do what I want, you wouldn't have to pay me anymore".
He grinned.

And so, we began dating. We made plans to meet up at a kinky party all together. There, I had sex with him for the first time, on a sofa while fingering my girlfriend and watching six gay men fuck each other silly. Early into the morning we left the party, exhausted, and he invited us to his flat to rest. He was in media, an exciting job that allowed him to live on his own in Soho, so we took him up on his offer and fell asleep, all snuggled together. I thought I was in heaven, sandwiched between two sexy people. I fooled myself into thinking that this might be the beginning of a relationship.

He was so kinky. I loved the challenge, and all the things we did and tried. I made him nose hooks and mouth hooks, wrapped him in cling film and duct tape, spat in his mouth and pissed on him in the shower. We went to dark places together, him and I. I was so in love with him, and I thought he loved me back, two perverts who had found each other, a crazy sex worker love story.
I encouraged him to go to Burning Man, to meet my friends and communities in the hope he would find acceptance. We'd go to pubs, sex shops, bookstores, holding hands and talking about politics and psychology. I fell deeper in love, so thankful to meet someone who didn't mind my work, who I didn't have to explain it to, who accepted me. We went to kinky clubs, high on MDMA, slow dancing to electronica and kissing like we couldn't stop.
I didn't notice that the drugs were a part of every time we went out until later.
There were hints that the fairy tale was unraveling, too, but I ignored them. He was embarrassed telling his friends how we met, so I was always a writer to them, my sex worker self put into the closet, if I met them at all. My friends knew and loved him, it didn't matter to them that he was originally a john, but he never seemed to notice that. Family was out of the question. Our relationship was open, but he went on dates with monogamous girls. We'd fight, then fuck and make up, over and over again. Our sex became kinkier and darker, our fantasies more dangerous and tense. I worried I was losing him, but told myself that I was being paranoid, that I had heard so many times that sex workers couldn't be in relationships that I believed it.
After a particularly difficult night before I flew home for a few months, we drove to the airport in silence. I was panicked about leaving the UK, leaving him. I was sure everything was about to fall apart and while I knew I was digging my own grave I wanted reassurance that he cared, that we had something special. I was in tears as he gave me three cds. I spent the flight reassuring myself that the music suggested he was confused, too, but we loved each other, that we would find a way. It had been only five months and yet I felt like I had found my soulmate. I slept fitfully.
When I landed... I discovered an email asking for space. He felt like we were struggling too much. I agreed, I could see that we needed some time for things to calm, for me to realize he did love me, that things would be ok. I started journaling every day to work out what needed to happen for our relationship to get back on track.

Three days later he was dating someone new, someone I had introduced him to. They moved in together. They broke up. But our relationship was dead by then, and I mourned it. I felt like someone had ripped my heart out, my trust, and burned it in front of me. I railed at my friends. I fell apart.

I tried to heal, in time. We tried to be friends, meeting for coffee. But I was furious, and hurt, and not ready. I felt like he had betrayed me, that he had shunned me for my work. It was one of the most heartbreaking experiences I had ever had, and I cursed myself every day for losing control, for letting myself blur the boundaries between client and sex worker. A year later and I still hadn't recovered. Two years and I still struggle seeing his picture.
There was a party I went to, about a year and a half after the breakup. He was dating someone else, someone who was in some of my communities. We ran into each other, she, high on E, I, sick with the flu and somewhat delirious. She told me how thankful she was that he had met me, that he was so self aware and open thanks to me. I felt like I was going to throw up. I felt like love was something that would fuck me over, every time, that all I could ever be as a sex worker was training wheels for a "real" relationship.
I cut him out of my life after that. And, for the most part, I'm glad.

But I think, years later, that he left raw wounds that still affect me today, in my current relationship. I still worry that as a sex worker I will only ever be the girlfriend experience and never the girlfriend. I have never gotten close to a client like that again, and I doubt I ever will. There is a part of me that is still traumatized and miserable about the whole thing. It was one of the hardest lessons in boundaries, trust and honesty I have ever had.

He seems happy, now, and a part of me still hates him for that. I reach out every once in a while, but I don't know what I would say if he ever wrote back. I wonder if he knows how badly he hurt me- I wonder if he cares. I wonder how things might have been different if there wasn't this stigma about sex workers and clients. If he might've been able to see me as his white picket fence girl after all.
I guess I'll never know.I hope that writing about this will help me mend. I hope it'll tell other sex workers who may've gone through this themselves that they're not stupid, that this happens, that it's ok. You're not alone.

And yes. I know that doesn't help.

But I'm letting go.

 

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Review: "Erotica Apocrypha", "This is the Way the World Ends"

I have always loved mythological stories, part of it being because of how fantastical they were, and part of it being because I loved how incredibly dark they were. There's all sorts of taboo in those stories- nonconsensual sex, shapeshifting, bestiality, incest. The Fae were some of my favourite tales, where they kidnapped young men to abuse and seduce them for years only to deliver them back to a world that had aged far more quickly. It's some fucked up shit, really, and while I'd love to say I only read incredibly beautifully written erotica, the fact is I also quite enjoy some filthy smut sometimes.

When Freaky Fountain Press told me they have a new anthology, "Erotica Apocrypha", that delves into the twisted elements of folklore and myth for the purposes of erotica... I knew I had to read it. And I'm so glad I did! I couldn't put this down- like vagina dentata, I was unable to look away, both tantalized and shocked.

Because of the often triggering nature of these stories, Freaky Fountain makes a point of having warnings for each one, so the reader can be forewarned of the contents. It's not soft delicate erotica, this stuff- this is dark, graphic, gritty. This is the kind of collection that would probably kill the Westboro Baptist Church family if they read it. Some of the stories get close to erotic horror without being gratuitous- there is blood, and sweat, and tears, and cum, all over these pages. The writing is exquisite, even if it sometimes made me sit back and say "whoa".

The desires in "Erotica Apocrypha" are both primal and divine, and they will captivate and enchant you. But beware when the gods come to seduce you... you may not get out alive.

Angels and demons, gods and mortals not your thing? Maybe you're more of a Mad Max, watch the world burn type. Freaky Fountain has a collection for you too- "This is the Way the World Ends", apocalyptic erotica just in time for 2012.

With 10 stories that are filled with pain and triumph, sex and death, this anthology was an intense read. These are dystopian tales of survival and defiance, and the sex ranges from desperate or angry to hot and loving.

I particularly enjoyed that the steamy scenes feel incidental while adding to the story- you don't feel like this is porn with some story added, but rather that these are stories where the erotic element adds to the experience. This is the kind of book you read while you wank yourself with a gun post Thunderdome battle.

Again, "This is the Way the World Ends" also has trigger warnings, and I do recommend you look them over before you read or you might be startled. This one has some sci-fi dehumanizing in it that I found fascinating and somewhat horrific- again, Freaky Fountain is the dark alleyway of erotica. It's rough, violent, and smutty, well worth a look if your tastes are stimulated by intensity.

I think Freaky Fountain is an independent publisher worth watching. Their trigger warning idea is ingenius- I wish more erotica publishers did this! And frankly, I also like reading smut where the sex is hot but the story is what really grabs me. Too often I'm reading a collection of erotica and I'm a little bored, the stories seem too similar, too soft. These stories punch you in the face and then kiss the blood away. You know, if you're into that sort of thing. I certainly am. ;)

Thank you Freaky Fountain Press for letting me read these collections in exchange for an honest and fair review!

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Review and Giveaway: "Take Me There", genderqueer and trans erotica!

(Winner of the giveaway- Curvaceous Dee!)

I read a lot of erotica. I tend to prefer to read porn rather than watch it, and I've read all sorts of smut, from spankings to female dominants to Daddies. There's not many niches out there I haven't read something about.

But what's been pretty common is cissexuals. I haven't really come across trans or genderqueer bodies, written about in a sexy way by people who know what they're writing. Usually it's been pathologized, or "a surprise reveal", or something humiliating. And that's been really disappointing for me.

Until now.

Tristan Taormino has edited "Take Me There", an anthology of trans and genderqueer erotica, and it is heartwrenching, filthy, and beautiful- like a lot of the queer sex I've had! Considering gender diversity is pretty much invisible in the media ad especially in eroticism, I was delighted to read a collection that was fluid and raw, with many authors I enjoy and respect.

I really, really love this book. I love that it shows, not just diversity of gender, but of class and ethnicity, too. Gender is omnipresent, but the pronouns are varied- you'll see "zie/hir" and "hym/hys" in here, which I appreciated. And this isn't all romance and sweetness, either- there's kink, and lust, and fire. This is genderfucking with the fucking very much left in.

With authors like Kate Bornstein, Sinclair Sexsmith, Patrick Califia, S. Bear Bergman, Laura Antoniou, Rachel Kramer Bussel, and far more, you'll find yourself eager to read the next story. I almost don't want to tell you too much, because I want you to uncover each delectable piece for yourself! But I'll give you this quote:

There was something about the way she touched me that made it clear she was touching the body I felt I had rather than the one I actually had. Oh, my god, her hands felt so good.
-from "The Perfect Gentleman" by Andrea Zanin

Thank you Cleis Press for sending me a copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review (especially as I no longer intern for them!)

And to make things even better? I have a copy of "Take Me There" to giveaway to one of my readers- and international entries are welcome! (This Contest Has Ended!)

How to Enter

A separate post must be made for each entry! No blobs of text!
Mandatory Entry (Yep, mandatory, meaning yes, you have to): 
Simple- tell me why you want it! 
Other Ways to Enter (Not mandatory! 1 entry each, please leave a comment (with contact email) per entry):
  • Tweet about it once a day.  If you tweet, please be sure to leave a comment! It’s just easier for me to keep track that way. Make sure to include @kittystryker and a link to this post.
Ex: genderfuck your day-@kittystryker's giving away trans/genderqueer erotic book "Take Me There" from @cleispress! Enter: http://tinyurl.com/3erz5z2 
  • Tell me what other books at Cleis Press that you would love to have (or already have and love).
  • Post about this contest on your blog, Facebook page, Tumblr, whatever… (comment to let me know)
  • Comment on my other reviews/posts (give a link)
  • Put a link on your blog leading to mine (comment to let me know and provide link)

Congrats to Curvaceous Dee!

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Review: Killer Bunnies, Moose Flogger and Stinger

I'm always looking for excellent toys at reasonable prices. I'm a recession Domme, after all, and quality BDSM supplies at prices that don't make kinky sex some sort of bourgeois luxury are important!

I remembered a very long time ago getting my eager hands on some beautiful toys from Madame Giggles Whack Shack, and looked her up- to my delight, she's still going strong with some lovely toys, including one of my particular favourites- the bunny singletail!

So Madame Giggles sent me three toys to review for you guys, and while my ex boyfriend from high school was around for Folsom (he's a big leather daddy now, of course) I tried these toys on him. Thanks!

First up is a stinger made of moose leather. It's soft, but not as stingy or heavy as buffalo hide. The handle is leather wrapped wood and is about 9.5" long, and the leather tail is around 20" long. I also really liked that there's a ribbon loop on the end to easily attach it to a toy belt or hang it up.

It's got a bite like a slightly gentler singletail. You can flick your wrist and get a nice snap out of it! I like that I can get some nice, pinpointed sting but that it's short enough to feel ok using it in a semi-crowded dungeon. This toy goes for $30.

Then I tried out the moose flogger, which was a great shape and weight for a medium thuddy flogging. It's got a thicker 8" handle, also wrapped in leather, and 12 14" falls. The sound when this hits is lovely, a good thwacking sound.

I think this would make a really great first flogger, especially as it's got such a good weight to it. And I don't just mean for a submissive's first flogger to experience- I think that the length and weight of this makes it a good bet for a Dominant's first flogger as well, as it's easy to control and has a strong impact without being too fierce.

This toy is $45, and it's frankly a steal at that price. I have seen floggers not nearly as nice for double the cost! You could get a matched set for the cost of one flogger other places. Well worth it if you ask me!

These are both fabulously made toys, for sure, and I really love Madame Giggles' workmanship on her toys. They're not only beautiful, but they're sturdy. These are toys you'll have for a long time, and at prices that someone new to kink or who has to be careful with their finances can feel really good about.

But these aren't the things that really drew me to her shop, or that had made an impact for all these years.

No, for that, it was her Killer Bunnies.

I've had other bunny floggers in the past- in fact I believe One Hot Crumpet has my old bunny flogger!- but I'm a sadist, and the bunny floggers are super sensual and not very harsh. They're usually made with strips of bunny fur so they're soft and pleasant, good for soothing the skin before or after a scene.

The Killer Bunnies, however, are fan-fucking-tastic. They're individually weighted and sewn together to make a heavier tail creepily similar to a cat's tail. It's a little weird and yet really cool!

And they have some fucking punch to them. You'll feel it between your fingers and say "aww, that feels nice" and then you'll get smacked with it and feel like you've been punched by the fuzziest kitten in the world.

You can get the Killer Bunnies as a singletail (pictured is a 20" tail with a 9 1/2" leather covered handle) or as a flogger. I'm really hoping to get a flogger one of these days, cause the singletail is awesome! This toy costs $100, which is an amazing deal for a singletail anyway.

Particularly cool in my opinion is that Madame Giggles does custom work if you want something particular or in certain colours, and also that she sews a little flogger/singletail condom to cover the tails of your toys! I love this because it means that you can use it as an extra cover over your toy that you can put in the washing machine, and because it makes sure they stay pristine in storage. She just sends them to you that way, which I think it really considerate and cool.

Also, and maybe my favourite part- she has a warranty on her toys that's really good:

"I stand behind my work. Any toy you buy from me comes with a two year warranty against defects in workmanship. If it busts because I didn't put it together well enough, I will repair it or replace it. If I can't repair it to like-new condition (and I'll be as picky about that as you would be), I will replace it. If I can't replace it with an identical item, I will replace it with an item of your choosing of the same price. I will also pay for shipping both ways."

So you know you're making an investment!

I can't wait to give these toys a bit more of a spin, and I can't recommend Madame Giggles Whack Shack enough. She's great with communication, makes great toys, and offers excellent service. What more could you want from a kinky toy craftster?

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Screwing the System at Arse Elektronika 2011

As much as I consider myself a geek, I am pretty isolated generally from the geeky 'verse. A lot of my friends are certainly dorky/nerdy/geeky, in a multitude of ways, but we're usually meeting at altsex or Burner spaces, not hacker ones! I guess I'm a little intimidated by the techspeak, which I'm not a native speaker of.

Well, this last weekend was spent surrounded by smart sexy geeks at Arse Elektronika, a sex, tech, class and culture conference thrown by monochrom that goes on every year in San Francisco. I had two talks to give, one called "TLC: Sex Work, Disability, and Stigma", and one with Maggie Mayhem called "Pervertables: A Hands-on Workshop in Being a DIY Deviant". I didn't get to see all the rest of the talks as my spoons were kind of few and far between this weekend, but I wanted to at least give a bit of a writeup of what I did!

So first, on Saturday at the Center for Sex and Culture, I had my talk on sex work and disability, how people from both groups can help each other navigate through stigma and how mutual respect is healing for us both. It was important to me to address the catch 22 that insists that people with disabilities should be able to find romantic and sexual partners without sex work and yet refuses to acknowledge that not every PWD has access to social spaces/information about where to meet people/the spoons to make all that effort. I wanted to talk about how independent sex work can create space for therapeutic sex work, if that's what people want to do, and how that can have amazing results. I wanted to address how social media has helped both stigmatized groups have a voice. Mostly, I wanted to really get through to the people at the conference, people who may not have thought much about sex worker *or* disability rights.

This is a subject that's really close to me, as I've had multiple clients (never mind many friends!) with various disabilities or mental health issues; I take my work seriously, coming from my heart to help them navigate the scary, triggering and sometimes painful world of sexuality to figure out how they want to engage with it, and if they can engage with it. I'm incredibly happy when a client contacts me to let me know they've moved forward in their relationship or their life to feel more fulfilled, as it's never been my interest to keep someone dependent on me. I want to help them grow and develop.

And it kills me that because sex work is illegal in the US, that even sex surrogacy is dying out because people are afraid of arrest. It pisses me off that surrogates have statements like "I acknowledge this session series is not for the purpose of sexual gratification or entertainment and may or may not include sexual intercourse, manual, or oral stimulation" as part of their contracts... first of all, because it suggests that paid sex for pleasure is a less worthy cause, and secondly because that's not going to protect you in court (what's more likely to save you is being the "right" race, the "right" class, with the "right" work environment). Never mind that the special certificate is only seemingly available from southern California, costing you $1500, time, and lodging- something that makes it only accessible to wealthier sex workers.

All of this also affects people with disabilities, who may want to seek out sex work to help gain confidence in bed or to learn new techniques, but who can't afford the sort of sex worker who has the training needed and an accessible space. So we both end up fucked over by this system. Thankfully, social media has made it possible for us to connect, for us to rant and rave and have our voices heard, so we can ask "so what're you suggesting then?" and demand answers. We can share what's worked in other places and what hasn't. We can challenge these stigmas and expect better. And we can actually help people be happy and feel sexy. What's better than that?

Anyway, that's sort of an angry "wtf is wrong with America" version of my lecture. I have notes/an outline if you're interested in reading them. :) It went pretty well, I think, and I got some great questions and some excellent, inspiring, heartening feedback. More importantly, I made some connections with other people interested in the work I'm doing, and I'm hoping to get out there more and actively change the way people view sex work- as work, as a service, not as some perverted slavery.

Ahem.

So the next day, Maggie and I did our DIY Kinky Toys talk, which was kind of neat to do after listening to maymay's talk about class, social status and the BDSM scene- I had kind of hoped he would come out for it, especially as it was super inspiring to see lots of people getting excited about the things they could make with the supplies we had! Maggie and I had gotten all sorts of stuff, mostly from the East Bay Depot for Creative Reuse. This one happened at the local hacker space Noisebridge.

Rather than do a big lecture and talk at people, I kind of just ushered them over to the table, where we had all manner of potential kinky stuff- pipe cleaners, zippers, wooden spoons, rubber pipe, bike inner tubes, hot glue, floppy disks, circuit boards... fun times!

Here's a few of my own personal projects:

"Pinkie Pie floggers"- Time to make: 7 minutes each. Cost: about .75 each.

I made these out of some handles (not sure what they were for, they had areas to screw things in the ends, shush you) I found at the depot, along with some pink zippers, electrical tape, and a bit of shiny silver aluminum tape for decoration. I used the tape in a long strip and spaced the zippers so they were all the same way, about every 1/2" or so, and then wrapped it tightly around the handle with the electrical tape with some extra wraps for a solid attachment.

What's fun about these floggers is that you can zip them up for a harsher feel, or unzip them for a lighter sting! Plus, they're sized in a way to be like cheerleader pompoms, which I just thought was super cute. And I love matched sets!

"Pinkie Pie big flogger"-Time to make: 10 minutes. Cost: about $.75

This flogger was made in a similar way to the one above, except I used a nerf bat handle for the handle on it. I also wrapped the tape all the way down the handle to make it look even. I might paint the blue bit so it matches my other floggers.

The longer strands means they'll have a bit more force when used, and I'd be careful with both of these designs about drawing blood- zippers can be sharp, so use with caution!

Also, always make sure to have at least a half inch to an inch of the zipper ends solidly and tightly wrapped to your handle via the tape- this will give you a stronger foundation and make it less likely your toy will fly apart mid-scene, which is possibly dangerous and definitely embarrassing.

"CyberSmacker"- Time to make- 5 minutes. Cost: $.30

This was a fun project that came about cause I wanted a cute smacky thing using a circuit board. I found a tiny one, and thought "awww!"

The materials for this one are chopsticks, the circuit board, hot glue, aluminum sticky tape, and a bit of electrical tape.

It's got a bit of sting to it, thanks to the plastic and metal circuit board, along with the fun sensation edges- you can use this for scratching lightly, or maybe a bit harsher if you prefer to dig in your claws.

"The P4DDL3"- Time to make: 10 minutes. Cost: $1.50

This is kind of my favourite of the toys I made at the workshop! It's my totally L337 paddle, and it has kind of a nasty bite on the other side where it has a textured rubber covering.

To make this toy, I used an old ping pong paddle, some sparkly paper, hot glue, a floppy disk, and some ethernet cable. I put down the sparkly paper first, then the disk, and finally wound the ethernet cable around the handle and solidified it with some electrical tape.

It has a really great oomph to it, and a lovely weight!

I was also really happy with the creativity of others at the workshop- a couple other people made zipper floggers, someone made a beautiful inner tube flogger with wings (!), there were reuses of whisks and feathers and bits of copper scrub brushes to make some fantastic toys! You don't have to be super crafty or creative, have fancy equipment or skills. I feel like we managed to communicate that very well to people at Arse, so yay!

Can't wait for next year. :D

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Review: the Rippler

I'm really into strap on play, but I have a tendency to stick to toys that fit me well, just in case. I've started to branch out to have more of a comprehensive collection, but for the longest time I'd stick with toys at most 6" long. I've been known to open my eyes really wide and back away from huge dildos. What's the opposite of a size queen? Yeah, I'm that.

However, I have lovers who don't feel quite as nervous around a big cock, so for them I braved the Rippler from Good Vibrations... and was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was.

I'm still a little scared of it though!

The Rippler is a big toy. 7 1/2", with incredible texture that feels like you're being inserted over and over again. 1 3/4" wide, it's a toy that you will feel very aware is being used on you. There's 6 ripples in it all the way down the shaft, with one side more pronounced than the other.

It's pretty firm, so I'd personally use this as a second or third toy. You might want a warm up or it might feel a bit rough. And use plenty of lube to help it along- I personally preferred a thicker gel lube opposed to a thinner creamier one, but your mileage may vary on that front.

You can definitely use this with a harness, but you may need a larger O ring to fit it. I could just about fit it in my Joque.

I only tried this vaginally, but I'm curious to see how the boy will handle it anally. I suspect he'd really enjoy the texture and roughness of it. Whoever you play with, go slow at first and let them build up to it, as it's really unexpected how significant the texture is until you feel it internally!

Being a silicone toy, the usual care and feeding applies- toy cleaner, soap and hot water, boiling, top rack of the dishwasher, probably safe to share between partners if you clean it properly.

I like the Rippler, though I think for me it's more of a specialty toy for when I'm with someone who likes it a bit rougher. Do you like it rough? Try the Rippler for yourself via Good Vibrations!

Thanks GV for sending me this toy in exchange for a fair and honest review!