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passive-aggressive notes FTW

Passive-aggressive notes. I love to hate on them, and they often make me laugh. There was recently a post that had to do with brothels and such, which I wanted to link to. Taste the bittersweetness that are passive-aggressive notes!

This photo is apparently from the good old Soho area of London, so I guess I need to poke around now and see if I can find it.

The blog itself makes me laugh. I promise TB that the note on your door is a mild version. Check it out. You'll laugh so hard you cry.

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bloody

disclaimer- I am a woman. I talk about my menses. If you have a problem with women's menses, well, you should probably go gay, because WTF, we have to smell your balls.

::ahem::

Dating Mr Primary, I ended up with this habit called "the sex towel".

The sex towel is a lovely invention. Whenever I get fisted, or have my period, or just in case things get messy, we take out the sex towel. It's pink, covered in bits of hair dye, and possibly one of the most beloved things I have. Every time the sex towel comes out, I know I'm in for a treat. It allows me the chance to let go and not worry about the sheets.

I've spread this to other lovers, including TB. We do not, yet, have a designated towel, but we did make use of one around his flat because I'm bleeding and I really love orgasms when I'm bleeding. I feel a little tender, extra sensitive to being touched and horny as all hell. I also get possessed by this desire to paint my lovers with blood, probably because I'm slightly insane, possibly because it's mine and it's a way to mark them without hurting them. I usually resist because, wow, unsafe sex, but it's one of those little fantasies I have.

I got to be the bottom, mostly, thanks to a win at air hockey where I decided we should play for forfeits. It was suprisingly intense- I was bound, my head effectively hooded, while TB played with the new anal toys he got (for HIM, may I add, not that I minded in the least). I was a little concerned that I was passing in and out of the here-and-now, because sometimes anal play leads to unhappy flashbacks, but I enjoyed it enough to stick it through and it didn't go into the scarier places. Little by little, I get closer to healing those wounds. I got some much-needed snuggles. And, right when I was feeling pouty that my pussy was being left out of it, he made me cum, over and over again. Thanks, sex towel!

However, I obviously need to step it up as a top. I'm slipping- Thursday night we were both stubbornly not getting out of bed for water, because neither of us wanted to cave in. An hour or something later, and I was up for the water. And I didn't just get some for myself. I'm a bad sadist. Ah well. I can make up for it Sunday, when he's going to be a table for us. :)

Tonight I think I'll go to Klub Fukk, the queer sex party. I doubt I'll play much, thanks to the bleeding, but I think I'll enjoy the energy there and maybe I'll get to pimp out my girlfriend. It'll hype me up for High Tea tomorrow. Maybe I'll watch some Dexter, someone else who can appreciate playing with blood.

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apartment hell

I'm trying for find a flat for 3 months, November to February.

I'd like it to be in zone 1-3. Double bed. Easy access to tube, or at least buses to central London. Warmish. Mixed gender or male. Under 600 quid a month, bills included.

But this appears to be really difficult. :/

I'm getting concerned I won't be able to find a place, which would be a real problem. I mean, I need to have this sorted soonish! I guess it's a bit early to panic (hah, it's never too early) as I don't need it til Nov 13th really, but....

I've tried moveflat.com and gumtree, but I get a lot of scams, not actual flats. Argh! I hope this doesn't lead to me havingto go back early...

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I'm a professional. Can you treat me like one?

Ok, guys, look. I understand you want a Girlfriend Experience. I understand that you want to suspend disbelief for an hour or two when you come to see me. I even understand that you *want* me to cum during our session (though I do try to clarify with you that I'll be honest, and that may or may not happen).

But one thing that is definitely Not Ok is for you to feel that you can then give me the Boyfriend Experience. You cannot skimp on showering. You cannot ask me for unprotected sexual play. You can't change the negotiations around after you've shown up. You definitely cannot schedule an appointment and think it's acceptable for you to not call and not show up. I'm not booking you as a boyfriend, where I might tolerate some of these things sometimes (don't get ideas, Mr Primary or TB- though to be fair you're both excellent) . You are, ultimately, a client. And I'm a professional.

One thing that really drives me crazy about being a sex worker is that my time is somehow considered less valuable than the time of the people I work with. For any other job, a deposit would be expected for the time being set aside- in fact, there would likely be a cancellation fee if you couldn't make it. But in sex work, if you ask for that you're looked at with suspicion, like you'll run off with the money. Some girls might, I'm sure. But in exchange, I end up booking appointments and, well, respecting them. I don't double book. So when he doesn't call and doesn't show, I've wasted time I could've spent with someone who would actually treat me like a professional.

I say treat me like a professional because the temptation is to say treat me with respect. TB pointed out however that by saying that, I'm taking it personally, and in order for this job to not take its toll I can't personalize the cancellations. Shit happens, but ultimately they're going to treat me like a professional or they won't, and I should be responding to them in that way. He's right when he says I let myself get sucked in.

I've asked around and taking deposits is possible but will definitely turn a lot more men off. I don't know if that's a good idea. My girlfriend suggested I take booking deposits to guarantee availability... but again, I think in the world of sex work guys just would refuse. Which pisses me off. See, if people saw this as a JOB then it would be ok, but because it's apparently a hobby or something else, it's harder to demand guarantees. Argh!

Anyway, I'm ranting because yesterday was initially a wash. It got better. And the next day looks good too. It's just one of those things that may eventually make me want to stop working. I want some sort of stability.

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predatory

There are little ways he turns me on more than anything.

Like when we spent a good hour or so giggling at the most random things, like the creaking of the sign outside his flat, and as we wiped tears from our eyes I complained that now how would I get the fucking I wanted? and he said I could wake him up in the middle of the night.

I could. I've even done it before. And he's happy to interrupt his sleep, to stroke me the way I want while his sleepy lips meet mine- or at least, if he isn't, he hasn't said anything against it yet. I love the feeling as he begins to wake up more and more, the feel of his cock, hard, pressing against my thigh. Sometimes I wish I had a cock so I could express that desire that succinctly. Instead I wrap my legs around his, press myself against his thigh, let my fingers twine in his hair before pulling him to me with it.

Or how, afterwards, when it's cold and I want tea but I don't want to get out of bed, he'll go to the kettle, naked, and make it happen. For me. How I only told him once how I like it, and he remembers.

Sometimes, it's too much. I feel like the Beast is clawing to come out and I'm not sure if I can keep her at bay, or if I even want to. And what makes it all more edgy (and more exciting) is that as my Beast advances, he dances back, urging me on. I think he enjoys playing with fire, as long as we think we can put it out. He's not like normal prey, scared, or hiding- rather, he's loping away, looking over his shoulder as if to say "bet you can't catch me". He's daring me. And that turns me on incredibly and completely.

While we don't use collars in our play often, I find myself touching him in public, almost to remind myself he's really there. I rest my hand on the small of his back and it's all I can do not to grab him to me. It makes time spent not playing into foreplay.

I had begun to feel so jaded and underwhelmed by kink... and he comes along and makes it fresh again. I swear I keep looking over my soft limits (and his) for what to break next.

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SF vs London

Oh, San Francisco.
Sometimes I'll see some photos of something awesome (like the Prim Queer Tea (where "modesty is the new kink!", in the middle of the Folsom Street Fair, thanks to the lovely Nifer, Slim and Colin) and I'll actually miss it again. Not enough, mind, but a little... yeah, Dickens Faire is lovely, but I'm in London where I can imagine it for real! (BTW- Christmas is coming, and I'd love a NifNaks squid flash drive or a Dali moustache... just sayin'..)

I bought my tickets from Boston to London and then from London to SF. And it's exciting (as well as a relief to have it done). But I'm expanding and developing here, and in some ways I think I'm doing it faster than I would be in SF. It's very easy to be distracted there by all the things going on- here, I tend to take it easy, going to only a couple of things a week, while there I'd want to go to everything. Generally I plan, schedule, and set things up so that I'm not flooded with things to do.

However, with all that said- I was pleased to get to go to a little shindig at Midori's, where I proceeded to feel like "omg am I cool enough for these people??" However, I did NOT fall over in my heels (score!) and I actually spoke to people I didn't know. A lot of them, in fact. I ended up really enjoying myself (though I drank a bit more than usual- anxiety = fidgiting = drinking) and feeling comfortable. It was... nice. And one of those experienced where I push myself out of my bubble of comfort and am ok afterwards, which is always inspiring and makes me exceedingly proud of myself.

That's one thing I really miss about SF. Almost all the people I read, who inspired me growing up, live there- Pat Califia, Carol Queen, Annie Sprinkle, Chanta Rose, Dossie Easton, Janet Hardy, Jay Wiseman. The other ones- Cecilia Tan and John Warren- are from the state where I grew up, Massachusetts. And it's both incredibly inspiring and absolutely intimidating to be out in a scene where these people (my idols, in a way) MIGHT SHOW UP. I feel totally freaked out attempting rope bondage around people who are professional riggers, for example! But at the same time, watching them at play can inspire me later on (in the privacy of my house, where no one can see me) and help me add new things to my play I might not have otherwise considered. I remember how awed I was when Annie signed my g-string, or Carol came to my community college class. I still feel like I'm going to faint when I speak to Midori!

I guess I love how in SF it's very DIY about sexuality and stuff, and if you do something interesting you might get these people who were your guiding lights to show up. However, because there's so much going on there, it can all fade into the background- you tend to compete. Here in London, I can air all my crazy ideas (like a sex worker munch, or the Ladies High Tea and Porn) and there's NOTHING like it yet. I feel like I can actually do something awesome and good. I feel like I can be inspirational, and give back in some way. And it's a fantastic feeling.

So yeah. SF, I miss you, but London and I aren't through yet!

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Sucking Mr Big

First, I would like to show you guys a cute video... it's a group called Carrotmob and their way of promoting energy efficiency in local businesses. I'd embed it but that doesn't seem to work...

Anyway. Watch it. It's one of those types of videos that makes you say "wow! So I can use my consumerism to actually affect change in the ways I want to see, and it can be THAT EASY... why not?"

So I think I might try to lay down the foundation to get people going on it here in London. I don't see why we couldn't do it, right? Pubs and local shops seem like a perfect first possibility.

And then I thought about it further. Ok, if it works for environmental stuff...

...what if we tried to do that with sex work?

Like, if you're in the union, you get a special union stamp to put on your site, so guys could choose to go with a union-protected sex worker if they wanted to. We could advertise that as a selling point, even! Or go around to strip clubs with a bunch of guys and say "look, if you promise the most in the way of wages and fair dealings with your workers, we will frequent your establishment more than any other, or perhaps eve exclusively". Could we make a difference?

In the current atmosphere of sex trafficking and attempts to criminalize punters, this might be a solution. If punters said "yes, I care about the well-being of the hookers I see- I choose union girls", then what we could accomplish as a group has the potential to be remarkable for the well being of the girls. Possibilities could include adding 10 quid, maybe, to our rates, that could be donated towards paying the union fees for other girls, or towards well-being workshops or something. (Just to state, there are male sex workers as well, and I think we could band together for this). Like in SF, a lot of people I know will go to the Lusty Lady but not the other strip clubs/peep shows, because the Lusty is union and a co-op (has great stage tips as well- check them out!). How can you not love a place that describes the girls as "like a Noah’s Ark of feminine archetypes"?? Ahem. Anyway. :)

I think people do care about this stuff in the sex work profession- in fact, a fair few of my clients look concerned for me when they see my bruises from my personal play at home. I just laugh and say "don't worry, it was all consensual" before pressing their faces into them for kissing. They seem to feel better about it then! But that leads me to think that these guys do want to make sure I'm doing this because I WANT to, not because I HAVE to. Having something like a union to back me up might be another indicator of my full consent and participation in the work I do. I'm not sure. Any punters out there who might be willing to say if they'd feel better seeing a girl who was union and taken care of?

I'm sure there will be a part 2 to this post eventually- capitalism and sex work is a huge thing- but this should be a good place to open the discussion up.

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To Have Without Holding

To Have Without Holding
Marge Piercy

Learning to love differently is hard,
love with the hands wide open, love
with the doors banging on their hinges,
the cupboard unlocked, the wind
roaring and whimpering in the rooms
rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds
that thwack like rubber bands
in an open palm.

It hurts to love wide open
stretching the muscles that feel
as if they are made of wet plaster,
then of blunt knives, then
of sharp knives.

It hurts to thwart the reflexes
of grab, of clutch; to love and let
go again and again. It pesters to remember
the lover who is not in the bed,
to hold back what is owed to the work
that gutters like a candle in a cave
without air, to love consciously,
conscientiously, concretely, constructively.

I can't do it, you say it's killing
me, but you thrive, you glow
on the street like a neon raspberry,
You float and sail, a helium balloon
bright bachelor's button blue and bobbing
on the cold and hot winds of our breath,
as we make and unmake in passionate
diastole and systole the rhythm
of our unbound bonding, to have
and not to hold, to love
with minimized malice, hunger
and anger moment by moment balanced.

***************************

I love this poem. It completely captures my experience of open relationships, why I love them and why I struggle with them, and how I don't think I could have it any other way. I do thrive. I do glow. Coming home to my girlfriend, who fed me, drew me a bath and washed my back and hair, and later snuggling down with my boyfriend... and then seeing TB tomorrow? I feel so loved, surrounded by love, like a giant feather comforter that warms my soul and my heart. I am truly blessed.

This poem reminds me that loving like this, letting my heart guide me, can get me hurt. It can go badly. But even then, I'd rather love fully and without fear than to hide it all away, to never give of myself. "To love and let go, again and again"- this is the lesson for me, how to give it my all and not be attached to the result. This is linked to yesterday's blog wherein I quote Gosford Park about love. Even when it hurts, it's beautiful.

Bedtime for me now, for sure- I need to catch up on many nights of 4-6 hours of sleep!

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oh...my...god

"In the spirit of community and BDSM as a lifestyle, Acworth wants to transform the armory's top floor into a series of Victorian/Georgian-inspired rooms where couples will live and fuck on camera 24-7. Participants will be given hierarchical positions — from maid to master of the house — and live according to the rules of domination and submission. Acworth's already started designing the grand dining room, inspired by the sets in Remains of the Day, including candelabras, elaborate draperies, and, of course, a long, long table. "I consider it the pinnacle of where everything comes together," he says." -from the Guardian's article about Kink.com

It's like my prayers have been answered.

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in the dark

I masturbate in the near-dark. This is partially because it helps me to focus on the task, dare I say it, at hand, but also because when I masturbate I am flooded with shame.

I'm not the sort of girl who was brought up in a culture of shame. I was brought up to explore my kinks freely, and to figure out if and how I could play with them consensually and safely. I'm out as everything- kinky, poly, trysexual, a sex worker- but this part of myself, this shadow self... that I keep hidden. Even as I write this blog I worry about what my readers would think of me if you knew what I wank off to, what actually gets me to shudder and my pussy to flood with cum.

It's nothing as simple as rape fantasies for me, kids. I mean, I like them, don't get me wrong, but they're no longer... enough. I hesitate to say that, as I don't believe you have a need to go further and darker when you play with these things in general. I don't believe rape fantasies are a gateway drug to other noncon... but, for me, it does take something pretty taboo, something that makes me flush in the face as my cunt gushes.

I'm so far into the kink thing, I sometimes get off on impregnation smut. Between heterosexuals. I feel like I have a problem, and then I wonder about the sort of girl I am that having vanilla, missionary position sex seems like the ultimate taboo...

I read a lot of the stories from the Kristen Archives. When I read these stories, I get wet. I've tried wanking to more intellectual smut, like stuff compiled by Alison Tyler or Carol Queen, but what I really get off on is those cheap books with weird cartoony covers in the smut shop, the ones with terrible grammar and spelling and where the pages fall out if you read them one handed. I get off on de Sade, who isn't known for his... erm... smart sexy reading. I read stuff that is illegal for me to own if it was on video, for various reasons. Which is why, when the orgasm has come and gone, and I'm lying on the bed spent, I delete the web history, I hide the books again, and then I relax.

I don't know if I could look someone in the face if they knew what I do in private.