Oct 142014

A message was recently sent about me… it wasn’t very flattering. In it they attacked everything about me.

“She is actually not that pretty. Without all the makeup, elaborate 50s hair, and creative photography to make her look pretty, she is just a boring fat chick whose boobs look more like “man boobs” on an overweight 12 year old then female breasts.”

Ok, grammatical errors aside, clearly this is intended to be hateful, and body shame me in every way possible.

I don’t Photoshop my pictures. What you see is what you get. I know I’m hot. I’m a pretty girl in a ponytail, and no makeup, and I’m a smoking hot one when I dress up. These comments don’t bother me. They smack of jealously, and clearly people think I AM pretty if they have to use the line “…she’s not even that pretty”.

So, let’s talk about the only thing left. My breasts. Yup, it’s boob time.


My breasts are frankly my biggest chink in the armor. I was born with polycystic ovarian syndrome. It caused me to start menstruating as a CHILD. One of the “symptoms” of PCOS is under developed breasts. I come from a long line of very tiny, very large breasted women… then there’s me. Even with PCOS, I still wear a C cup in most bras. There you go guys who always ask! They’re C’s!. Growing up around the women in my family though, left me with a complex I’ve never been able to shake. It doesn’t help that I’m NOT a tiny girl, so there’s always way too much room in shirts. It makes me cry sometimes to go clothes shopping.

Then there’s shape, and this is the BIGGEST problem for me. They aren’t shaped like porn stars. They’re spaced too far apart, so I buy bras that bully them into place. They aren’t the perfect tear drop, and while my nipples don’t point to the floor, I wish they were higher. I’ve seen women with the same shape as mine, but somehow I don’t hate THEIRS, I just hate mine.

I’ve spent years wanting a boob job. I want wonderful, perfect (in my eyes) breasts like the rest of my family. I WANT TO THROW AWAY MY BRAS AND LET THOSE BABIES FREE! I’m constantly cracking jokes that what men like about me, they could have themselves, for the low low price of $79.99 at Victoria’s Secret.


I’m ashamed of my body.

I’ve grown to love the rest of myself, through years of work, the support of partners, and frankly, Sinful Sunday. The one thing (well two) that I haven’t grown to accept however, are my breasts. Because of that message though, I think it’s time to change that.


If you don’t like me, that’s great, have a nice life. Body shaming makes YOU the asshole, not me. And it seems like no matter which way you go, there’s body shaming everywhere! My partner in crime wrote a post about being body shamed for being such a small target. Meanwhile, other people are shaming me for being curvy and not having huge breasts. It’s ridiculous! I have stood up against people mocking heavier people and been told “oh, YOU’RE not fat. So yeah, you’re a thick girl, but that person was FAT.”


I’m tired of worrying so much about these things, and I’m tired of hearing it. You’re beautiful. You, the person. And we’re all unique, and that’s what makes us fabulous. So to all the girls out there that don’t have perfect breasts, or who feel bad about themselves. Stop. You’re lovely.

the "breast" selfie ever
Set the tatas free.

While this post was off topic for Wicked Wednesday, there are many other wonderful posts about making bad sex, sexy. Click the link below!

Wicked Wednesday

Jun 032014

He couldn’t wait for her to figure it out. As always, meticulous planning went into his agenda for the weekend ahead. It was one of the things that she admired about him; to her, it solidified his mastery and dominance. They had been building this relationship for some time now and she had recently expressed her willingness to take the next step to ultimate submission. She was ready to serve.

They arrived at the grounds of the estate where their rented cottage was in mid-afternoon. The trees covering the property made dappled lighting on the facade of the quaint little building, and she sighed happily at the romantic pictures that were forming in her mind from the view. He squeezed her hand before they got out of the car, prompting another happy sigh. While he was busy grabbing the luggage, she skipped ahead, excited to inspect their lodgings.

She paused, beset with confusion as she opened the door. Inside the innocent looking building was much different than the outside. A dilapidated, ancient brass bed was accompanied by a very worn chair, a basin and counter, and a plain, tiny bathroom. There were no chocolates on pillows or a quilt made by a grandmother as she had expected. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that several additions were made to the room beyond its furnishing, and she instantly knew it was him. Handcuffs were already affixed to the four posts on the bed. A towel on the counter was laden with a gag, blindfold, flogger, cane, candles, oil, and a soft feathery tickler.

He came in behind her and simply watched as she surveyed the area, waiting for her response. She finally turned to him, managed to close her mouth, and swallowed audibly before asking, “what is this place?”.

He set the bags down and drew her into his arms for a deep kiss before answering, “This is where you will formalize your service to me, and where I will reward you greatly for your submission.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his eyes. Dawning realization crossed her features and he knew in that moment that she realized just how ingenious he was. Their trip was designed especially to celebrate this commitment and he was making it clear what this commitment was. The estate, the small cottage, the ill repair of the inside… This was the servants quarters of some previously great estate. She was committing to serve him, so he took her to a servants quarters. In a moment of levity she wondered if he had another room in the grand house, and where her maid’s costume was.

He drew something out of their luggage and her eyes were drawn to a velvet box. “Here” he said as he handed her the package. Her fingers trembled as she open the box and her eyes took in the delicate gold chain with the lock charm covered in diamonds hanging from it. Her collar, he had gotten her a formal, beautiful collar so she could wear the proof of his possession of the her. She had longed for that, for his mark, and now here it was. She didn’t know how he knew exactly what she craved, but that was the beauty of their relationship- he always knew.

He took the necklace from her as she lifted her hair so he could put in place the beautiful token he had given her. Gooseflesh rose up on her skin as he brushed his lips tenderly against her nape. Turning around she gazed into his eyes as he said: “I will always protect you. You are MINE. Just as you will serve me, I will take care of and protect you.” She melted at the words and he kissed her hand as he led her willingly to the bed. She gave up her limbs to be bound as willing as she had given up her heart. With her body spread wide on display for his pleasure her mind swirled, already intoxicated and well on her way to bliss. His hands glided over the hills and valleys of her body, stopping at rosy peaks, bringing her body alive in anticipation. He affixed the gag around her mouth after sweetly nibbling on her lips and she couldn’t help the shudder of pleasure.  Her vision was impaired as he placed the blindfold over her eyes and she felt herself relax. She trusted him, more than any other person in her life. With her senses impaired, she was still able to make out some of what was going on in her surroundings. She could smell the candle that he lit, and hear the whisper of movement as he grabbed something.

As always, her mind tried to anticipate what was coming, so the shock of the cold ice against her skin sent her reeling. She hadn’t noticed the bowl of ice when she first looked at the room. He swirled the cold cube around her breasts causing her nipples to harden. Her body almost flew off the bed when his searing hot mouth followed the path of the ice. She didn’t know a mouth could be that hot. Still focused on the sensations bringing her body to life, she didn’t notice the shift of his body as he grabbed the tickler. The feathery softness flitted against her ribs, her hips, her sex. She moaned into her gag, begging for more. The warm oil he poured onto her stomach next was a delightful contrast to the cold ice and her mind struggled to keep up with processing what was happening to her. All of these sensations blurred together as she got lost in the bliss, rapidly on her way to subspace.

Still floating, consumed with the sensual torture he was putting her through, her thoughts came to sharp focus as suddenly he entered her body. She screamed into her gag as the intensity of her orgasm washed over her body and she felt as though she would burst from this crescendo. There was no build up of rhythm or pace, just strong, hard thrusts. Her orgasm went on and on and she thought it would never end and surely she would die of such pleasure. As his body rubbed against the slick surface of her skin she could feel him tensing. Her fingers were prevented from touching him due to her binds, but she knew, just as he knew her, she knew him. Soon he was filling her body with his own orgasm and she felt her arms being released. He was always quick to let her out after they found completion because the aftermath was just as sacred to him.

They wrapped their arms around each other and formed a cocoon of happiness and contentment. The world was silent in that moment as everything drifted, washed away with the fulfillment they found in each other. He kissed her head and let her float, knowing that she was in her place of serenity and protecting her from the outside world as she enjoyed the quiet in her mind. He couldn’t have picked a better place. No fancy resort would have suited this occasion better. He let his thoughts drift as he happily anticipated the time later when the rest of the items on the towel were used. After all, they had all weekend ahead of them for her to serve him in these delightful servants quarters.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Oct 302013

I love how much my lover’s body responds to me, and I love making HIM wet. Traditionally, hearing the word wet makes me instantly think of myself. Now that word evokes different thoughts as my lover produces precum at mere excitement and this additional proof of the power of my appeal excites me greatly.

see who else is being Wicked this week…

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Sep 252013

The anticipation was quite high for his arrival. I paced. Every minute it seemed had me racing to the mirror to check that I looked okay, that every hair was in place and that my breasts hadn’t betrayed me and given up the perfect cleavage I had arranged. He was coming over purely for sex and so I questioned why waste time getting dressed? Instead I showered and shaved and applied sultry makeup and fashioned soft hair to compliment the completely sheer fabric of the lingerie I had chosen instead.

My heart beat a faster rhythm as my phone buzzed saying he was here. My pacing moved into the entryway after one last dash to the mirror. The soft fabric of my lingerie merely complimenting the perfect nudity of my soft skin. Finally his knock came. I opened the door for him, making sure to stand slightly behind, so his view was hampered until he was fully in my house and I was closing the door.

Suddenly he spun me around and slammed me into the wall, his mouth devouring mine as his fingers drove into the dampness he had perfect access to that was caused by my discovery of this absolute proof of what he thought of me answering the door in such a state. Quickly stripped down, I was standing naked in my entryway while his hands roamed every inch.

He tugged and pulled me into my room where with deft movements he shoved me bent over the bed and entered me so swiftly it stole my breath away. Our sex was intense, furious, primal. He bundled my hair into his fist and pulled my head up so he could bite on my neck as he drove harder into me; my body grateful for his entrance. Just as quickly as the moments had progressed I felt my body tightening around him and a strangled cry escape my lips as the beginnings of my orgasm brought him to his. Filled, finished, with legs I didn’t think would work, I collapsed onto the bed, never having expected such a forceful, erotic moment as this.

I decided then, I definitely need to answer the door naked more often.

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