TMI Tuesday: Just Askin’


1. We are just a few months into 2014 but I want to know what have you done this year that you have never done before?
I watched a urethral sounding.

2. You are going to a deserted island, your only entertainment will be to read. What five (5) books will you take with you?
The Dictionary
The Grapes of Wrath
The Bible (Not for the religion, for the stories.)
A book that will teach me a foreign language (I’m not choosy as to which language.)
A massive compendium of jokes and it must have a ribald chapter

3. We all change and grow over time (at least you should). What two (2) things do you miss about the old you? Why?
I miss being a performer. That’s actually a whole lot more than two things. There was a period of years when performing permeated every aspect of my life.

4. How would you define and calculate ‘sexual satisfaction’?
I define sexual satisfaction as being satisfied with a sexually intimate interaction with another person. It is not contingent upon P/V or P/A contact, or any combination thereof. It is also not measured by the number, quality, or existence of orgasms. It is contingent upon the level of intimacy and trust expressed during the interaction.

5. Porn–Has it ever been good for your relationship? Has it ever been bad for your relationship?
This question assumes, by the use of the word “ever”, that I’ve known of the presence of pornography in all of my relationships. We know how men secret away their porn. (Oh, no Sweetheart. I don’t need any of that. I have you. You’re all I need.) Yeah, ok. It’s not a question of need … but I digress.

I can only speak of relationships where pornography was used in a transparent manner. In those cases I can say I was not aware of it being bad for the relationships. There have been occasions where it has been a delightfully good thing.

Bonus: Is there a secret you’d like to share? What is it?
The only secrets are those not told. Once they are given voice, they are no longer secrets.




I read this post the other day. I literally read the first sentence and thought “WRONG!” I did plow on through the rest of the post, admittedly colored by the outrage I still felt from that first sentence. This is what floored me:

The job of a dominant is to bring contentment to those who submit.

Granted I’m not a dominant. If I may respond from my position as an s-type; (and I will since this is my space) No … just no … that’s not your job! This is so backward and foreign I want to give the author the benefit of the doubt and say that can’t be what he meant. It is not my Master’s job to be sure I’m content. I am in my Master’s life to bring Him contentment, to be there for Him, to make sure He is happy.

I defy any submissive to approach a prospective D-type and say “Your job is to make me content.” I cannot imagine a dynamic that one-sided on either side of the slash. A Dominant works every day to provide the structure in the dynamic. I should thank Him by also making Him responsible for my emotional well being? Not just no but, hell no!

If you are new to dominance, you need to be strong enough for the both of you, or in some cases, the several of you.

It is writings like this that pour fuel on the I’m a special little snowflake entitled submissive attitudes that infuriate me. I don’t need anyone to be strong for me. I can and will be strong for myself. Any relationship I am in has support from both partners involved. It is not always 50/50. There are days when I need 75% and there are days when I give 75%.

My point is this: No one should enter into any relationship expecting to give everything or to take everything. That level of expectation is unrealistic and unsustainable. I would love to believe that I can be all, do all for my partner. I would like to believe it. I also know it simply isn’t possible. We all have our limitations. Even Dominants.




TMI Tuesday: Game Show Edition


1. The Price is Right:

What is the right price to make you have sex with a total a total stranger?
Is he smoking hot? Is he intimately talented? Is he of comparable age? Will I ever have to see him again? It would have to be a set-for-life amount of money. And I don’t mean SFL with careful investing. I mean SFL as in I have so much money I need to hire someone to take care of it for me while I live off the interest.

2. Make Me Laugh:

What part of your naked body when touched, makes you laugh?
I don’t really have one of these, though holding me down and attempting to lick my nose is, guaranteed at minimum, a giggle.

3. Family Feud:

What act could you do or thing could you say that would really upset your significant other?
Sheesh. There are a million things I could do. We’ve been together a long time. Time provides knowledge of which buttons to push. Love is knowing the buttons and not pushing them regardless of how angry you are.

4. Supermarket Sweep:

You’ve been let go in a sex toy market that includes small items (e.g. condoms, vibrators) to large items (e.g. Sybians, spanking benches) and everything in between. What 5 items will you put in your shopping cart?

  1. Spanking bench
  2. St. Andrew’s Cross
  3. Catherine’s Wheel
  4. A kit that would allow for suspension while in a sleep sack
  5. Bolero style straitjacket in leather

5. The Dating Game (Blind Date, UK version; Perfect Match, Australian version).
For fun click HERE to see the crazy fashion of the bachelorette, plus actor John Ritter is one of the bachelors.

Part I – There are 3 contestants to which you will pose your questions. Will your contestants be of your opposite sex, your same sex, or a mix?
They would all be male.
Part II – What are 3 questions you would ask the contestants?
How many play partners have you injured?
Describe your typical version of aftercare.
What type of emergency sheers do you use and how many pairs do you carry?

Bonus: TMI Tuesday Cash Cab (several International versions) – Unsuspecting taxi passengers hail a cab and suddenly find themselves on a TV game show. While on the cab ride you must do specific acts ordered by your cab driver in order to win cash and get the full free cab ride to your destination.

The TMI Taxi has just picked you up. How much cash will you win? At which level will you stop the cab, end the ride, and be dumped at the curb?

Level 1: Flash passers-by either by lifting your shirt or mooning them – $20 (all cash prize amounts are USD)
Level 2: Dry hump another passenger in the cab with you (remember the camera is recording) – $50
Level 3: French kiss the cab driver for 1 minute – $75
Level 4: Have sex, in the cab, with the other passenger who is a complete stranger and…
– if you are gay/lesbian the stranger is heterosexual
– if you are heterosexual the stranger is your same sex
– if you are bisexual you are just having fun *wink*

Cash prize $1000

I would listen to the run down of the rules and decide it’s a lovely day for a walk. There is only one person who gets to tell me what to do and He’s not a cab driver.


How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment on the TMI blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses.

What is enough?

What follows is the sort of self-examination that I do not indulge in often. It is borne of uncertainty, deprivation, and cabin fever. It will most likely be lengthy. It will probably not be rational. I anticipate many rhetorical questions. I expect it will get messy. You may wish to simply move along as though none of this ever happened. If you choose to stay, I suggest you don your hip waders. You’ve been warned.

Today while showering, I happened to glance down and notice a faint purple tinged line running along the top of my thigh. I knew immediately this was the remains of a mark from my last play. It was the last vestiges of the hog slapper’s handle. A smile chased across my face. My body does not hold onto marks any more. This pains me. I used to rely on them to remind me that my experiences had in fact been very real, however dream-like they might seem. I don’t look for marks anymore. I give myself 24-48 hours to spot them and then I stop looking. I assign them too much weight. Their absence combined with sub drop can turn my emotions very ugly very quickly. I can’t tolerate the compounded aftermath.

Today when I saw this faint stripe, this simple mark, in the solitude and quiet of the shower, my mind immediately went back to that session, nearly a month ago now. I thought about how devastated I had been that weekend. I thought about how intensely sad I had been. I thought about how I almost staid His hand, thinking it would be better for me not to play when I was internally that much of a mess. I thought about feeling ashamed after the scene because I felt I hadn’t been enough, my pain tolerance wasn’t enough, I hadn’t taken enough, been hard core enough. I was so crushed that it followed me for more than a week after the fact.

This mark … nearly a month later. On my body that barely ever marks anymore. On my body that, when it does mark, they are gone in a few days. If this reminder is still on my thigh then the play must have been more intense than my perception of it.

The next station on my train of thought was Warped Perception Depot. I thought about all of the areas of my life where people often provide positive feedback that I do not hear, that I am unwilling(?) to accept. Talented creative, wonderful mother, asset to the community, graceful submissive, positive roll model. I have no trouble hearing, giving validity to, internalizing, and beating myself up repeatedly about anything negative that might be said, regardless of the quality of the source. When will I believe I am enough? When will I develop the ability to say Pfft, they’re a first class douche canoe! Their opinion holds no water?

I looked back at my life two years ago. I mentally cataloged the changes, the goals I set out and achieved:

I wanted to get in shape. I dropped 60 pounds. I exercise often and have a toned, fit body. Not good enough says my self-talk. Look at that paunch I say pinching the inch or so above my c-section scar. Where’s the full six-pack? Not enough.

I wanted to be happy. I wanted more. I wanted power exchange to be part of my life. I wanted to serve. I am owned by an amazing Master. My family has grown into a poly family. Seamlessly connected. Communication hurdles behind me. This relationship has enriched my life in ways I could not have imagined. My marriage is rock solid and we are happy. Not good enough! shrieks my inner demon. My memory is horrid but the demon has no trouble clinging tenaciously to every error in my submission, from the smallest misstep to the most grievous fuck up. If I think about them, I can feel each and every one as if they happened this morning. I have fleeting moments of selfishness. No matter that I am human. Not good enough.

I wanted my child to excel academically. He has been on the honor roll his entire academic career in spite of his disability. This year he was accepted into a prestigious school that admits only the best of the best. He maintains his position on the honor roll in spite of all the new challenges I pushed on him this year Sorry. No Mother of the Year for you. He still has no friends. This term he was only honors not high honors. He still has a few behavioral issues. He still has to be brow beaten to do his homework properly. He would still rather watch TV than read. At least once a week he fails to clean his room before breakfast. Not good enough. Not even close.

I wanted to waist train and learn to tight lace. My first corset was a 36. I’m now at 23 inches. People in my community come to me for advice on getting started. I’m considering teaching a basic course. Where’s that last inch, eh Corset Girl? You wanted 22 inches. So what gives? Why can’t you get it done? Never good enough.

As I mentally filed these things, and several other relatively minor accomplishments, I thought Jesus Christ! Are you EVER going to be kind to yourself? Ever? Even a little? And if the answer to that is “no” then what the fuck are you doing here? If you do everything in your power to be the perfect wife, the slaviest slave that ever slaved, Super Mom and it’s still not enough for you … why bother trying? What exactly are you working toward? It’s clearly not the goals you set out for yourself because you accomplish those and still find yourself sorely lacking. Seriously, what the fuck?

I believe there is always room for improvement in everything and everyone. I don’t know how to adhere to that belief while simultaneously being accepting of myself, my best efforts, and my accomplishments.