I am still here...

And I will be back, as soon as I can, which should be soon... So much has had to happen, so much still to do...

Latest Drawing

For a fetish club flyer. Vampire theme.

Does he come free with that?

On Wedenesday, I went to visit Saladin. I am moving in with him. Any of you who remember way back to when I was able to write more regularly will now be saying "Whaaaa??!!" It's not exactly what you might think. We are not in a relationship, but we are still interested in each other. His housemate of two years is moving out, and he will leave an available spare room. I am in need of a place to live, and Saladin is in need of a civilised housemate. And yes, the four poster bed is a glorious bonus.

I did labour long and hard over whether it was wise to accept Saladin's offer, but when I finally did, it was as if a very tangible weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. The journey around there on Wednesday was to refresh my memory of how the room is, and to decide if I wanted it painting.

The room used to belong to Saladin's ex of a few years ago. Like me, she is a tall lady who generally wears black, and she liked her room the colour of imperial purple. If I were still ever so slightly more youthful, I would have requested it be left that colour. However, I have grown particular in my old age, and felt that the blood-red carpet was not a match, neither was the rosewood of the four poster bed. Moreover, now I am drawing more, I need lots of light. So the room will now be painted honey white, which is going to look very lovely.

But let's cut to the chase. What is more lovely is the fact that the bed has been customised for a lady of my persuasion. There are hooks and eyes everywhere, all the better to thread the ropes through, my dear.

I have a little gothic dresser in there, and a old spooky looking wardrobe... and the bed is kingsize, so I'll be able to fit a couple of boys in.

Even more important, Saladin is clean, responsible, dependable, calm... Everything I need.

But frankly, this is all by the by. I found I was hardly concerned about the room at all as soon as the door was opened by Saladin's housemate. Now, it is a well documented fact that I am one of the most impossibly fussy women when it comes down to men, boys, call them what you will. I hardly ever find anyone attractive. Ever. And when I do, they usually reveal some defective personality trait/lack of intellect/off-putting behavioural tick, and then it's ruined. So you can imagine what an unlikely event it would be for me to bump into a male of the species and think "I may have just met perfection itself". We are talking pigs flying, hell freezing over, and Jesus popping down to judge us all (remind me to hide).

I arrived at Saladin's, and this tall, beautiful boy opened the door. He had long, dark hair tied back in a pony-tail, pale smooth skin, high cheekbones, and an elegant face. But not only that, he was well-spoken, and had this graceful way of moving. Oh hell, he could have walked off the set of LotR, for Christ's sake. If he had had pointy ears, I may well have attempted rape there and then. But I am ruining a beautiful moment.

As I spoke to Saladin, this gorgeous creature poured me a drink, and played his guitar... What could have been very dodgy ground was not at all, because thankfully, he did not play like a teenager.

We then went out for dinner, and the boy revealed a vast intellect and a knowledge of philosophy, combined with a fairly wicked sense of humour, and the revelation that he is sexually dominant (though he does not like the label).

He leaves tomorrow for Poland. It's a three month trip.

I wish he came with the room.

Bed, Breakfast, and dungeon.

It is hard to know where to begin. A lot of time has elapsed, a lot of things have happened. I have decided to ease myself in slowly, and introduce to the main project I have been working on.

As I have previously mentioned, the fetish B&B is now up and running, we had our first customer last weekend, and they absolutely loved it, and said that they'd book again.

Obviously, the idea is that guests receive luxurious, self-contained accomodation, including bathroom and kitchen, and the most important thing, a dungeon. Although in this case, they also get a medical room too. I am running the webmarketing side of things, and the general frou-frou maintenance of the place. i.e. I make things look beeee-yoooo-ti-ful, make beds, etc.

And to be honest, I have got to the point where I am not so concerned about hiding who I am anymore. Not that I am going to reveal myself in all my exciting glory to you right now. Simply that I want you guys to take a look at the establishment. My lovely friend and photographer did the pictures, and I dressed the rooms. Behold: London Fetish Studio.

Look what the cat dragged in...

Hello? Are any of you still out there? I know it has been a long time, too long a time, but I have been all over the place and my feet hurt. Time to kick off the heels and massage my feet. That's your cue. Well, I don't massage my own.

And I promised myself that today would be the day that I sat down to write, and it would be good. It would make up for my absence. But the day has been so long, and I am so very, very tired. I have so much to write for you, and now I can barely hold my head up.

Sigh and sigh and yawn. I promise to make my return more concrete tomorrow.

For now, briefly:

Alistair is still on the radar.
Saladin is still seducing.
I have had to move to Brighton to live with my sister.
Brighton has a rubbish fetish scene.
I flit to London a lot to help run the kinky B&B.
The kinky B&B is now up and running (rejoice).
I am learning to build websites for my art.
I am going to become a pro-domme.
I am doing the necessary research to start my own business.
Guess what it is.
I am still yearning to be treated right.
Oh, and it is my birthday on Tuesday.
I will be 29.
Still drinking gin, and still petting cats that smell of wee.

I have missed you guys.

Pets Win Prizes

Recently, I have been lucky enough to win three awards. What a lucky poodle I am. Now, I shall pass them on, but I am going to have a think about where I am going to send them.

For now, I shall thank the ever so mysterious mysterg, over at Meditations in an Emergency. He always has my full attention when he writes. He can run his hands up my seamed stockings any time he likes, I might even remember to wear panties. The devilish gentleman has given me this:

Over at Happily After Ever, the lovely ladytruth has awarded me this:

Please go and say hello if you have yet to stumble across her. She always cheers me up, and I am waiting on the edge of my seat to see how her new, and yet old, romance unfolds...

Finally Judearoo at Differently Wired... has handed me this:


This is a lady with a silver tongue. Well, more silver keyboard, I suppose. I highly recommend that you toddle on over to her and feast your eyes on her latest post. Nature rendered beautifully in words and photography.

The award requires that I list 5 obsessions of mine. I have decided to leave BDSM and sex out of this one, since it would really be stating the obvious.

So here we go:

1) Drawing and painting. I have recently begun to do more and more of this after a long, long break. It was always my talent when I was younger, and everyone thought I would end up as an artist. My confidence in myself thought otherwise. However, I am now making a go of it. You can see a couple of things here.

2) Knitting: Yes, it's true, I love to knit. Not only do I like it as a hobby, but when I am stressed and depressed, it focuses my mind so much that I don't think about the bad stuff. People are always amused when they see me doing this dirty little secret for the first time. As if being a sexual deviant and a knitter is incompatible. Hah. I'll have you know that at the last fetish market, before doors opened, I sat at my stall in 1950s polka-dot full-skirted dress made entirely out of rubber (except the frilly petticoat, which was not), knitting scarves as family Christmas presents.

3) Retro/vintage clothing and lingerie: I particularly like 1940s and 50s. I used to sway more towards the 50s, but have discovered that I am really a 40s girl. I adore fully-fashioned seamed stockings. I adore curling my hair into intricate styles. I love the shoes, I love the hats... etc.

4) Tornadoes: The weather phenomenon, not the plane. Since I was a little girl and I saw the twister in The Wizard of Oz, I have been absolutely fascinated by these things. To the extent where I often have dreams about them, which scare the hell out of me (yet are perversely enjoyable). I am desperate to see a real one. I am especially interested in the details of the great Tri-State Tornado of 1925. Look it up.

5) Animals: All kinds really. I am at my most happy and comfortable when I am surrounded by animals. I feel at peace. Maybe it's because there's no crap involved in relationships such as these. Well, except when you clean the litter tray.

Spanking School

Earlier on in the year, I helped a friend deliver a class on fellatio, hand-jobs, and good things to do with your partner's penis.

Freya is an internationally well-known figure in the world of kink and beyond. She is an author, performer, artist, and columnist. Based abroad, she visits the UK about twice a year to give classes for an exclusive boutique of erotica, and to perform at clubs. Tonight, I shall be assisting her with a spanking class, and I will be the spankee. Of course, I can't wait to tell you how it goes, but for now, I shall leave you with the details of the JoyStick class from earlier this year...


These classes are mostly frequented by bored middle-class people with quiet sex lives, and money to burn. I am probably being a bit unfair here. This particular class was held at a rather nice private members club on the Portabello Road. It was all women, mostly giggling, with not a single male partner in sight.


The way Freya does the class is to go in on her own initially to give a 15m intro. She then tells the class that she is about to call her boyfriend in. "GASP," say the women, "Does she really mean to insert a man's erect penis into her mouth in front of us? Here? An erect penis? Her mouth?" But ha-ha, the joke is on them, and the middle-aged woman in the front row who just died of a heart-attack pegged it for nothing...


"Boyfriend, oh Boyfriend..." calls Freya. There is an excruciating pause, during which time none of the women know what to do with themselves, then in I stride wearing trousers, blouse, and a strap-on. Oh, and bunches. We thought the contrast between strap-on and bunches was amusing.


I strode up to the platform, thrusting my hips, my artificial manhood leading the way. Some colour was beginning to come back into the women's cheeks. Yes it was relief all round.


During the class, Freya demonstrated how to approach your man in a sexy fashion and perform an inpromptu blow-job. She explained how people should be prepared to loosen up more, that mussed-up hair is sexy, that makeup running down the cheeks is just about the hottest thing ever. I agreed whole-heartedly, and told them that it was just the other night when my man pulled me in front of the mirror so I could see the streaks down my face, and told me how hot I looked. Of course, he also told me I was a filthy slut, and the reason I had running eyes was because he had slapped me round the face several times. I left that part out. These classes are meant to be "accessible". But I had to wonder how on earth any of this stuff was new to these women. There was one moment where Freya was discussing the use of pelvic floor muscles during sex, and the clenching thereof... You'd have been forgiven for thinking that she had just discovered a cure for cancer, clenching the vaginal musles during sex: a revelation indeed.

That said, I must admit that, despite walking into the class thinking: "What could I possibly have to learn?" I walked away with a couple of new strings to add to my bow. And I owe it all to Freya, and the courgettes hidden under everyone's chair, including mine.

Yes, this was the "How to put a condom on a penis using only your mouth" part of the class. I had never attempted this before, and was not familiar with the technique. Freya told us her special secret whilst handing out condoms, and then we began putting what we had learned into practice. I am proud to say that I did it effortlessly, like lightening, like it was instinct. I like to call it talent. And as I smugly brandished my sheathed courgette, I surveyed the class from atop my platform of sexual righteousness, and wondered how I came to be here. How had my life led me to fellating a corgette, seated on a platform before a room full of sexually repressed posh women, all slobbering frustratedly over vegetables? These thoughts evaporated as my smile grew wider. They were replaced with feelings of pleasure and contentment. For all the difficulties and sorrows, there are some parts of my existence that I adore. For I may be overly sarcastic, at times downright derogatory, but the truth is that helping a bunch of mainstream women break out of their shells and enjoy better sex is awesome. The weird and wonderful situations in which I find myself keep me going. And it is a joy to help out at Freya's classes because she is amazing at what she does.


I should say that at the end of her class, she handed out latex gloves to everyone, and offered to demonstrate the fellatio techniques she had taught to us on our fingers, so we could actually learn what it feels like. During the session I had watched and listened, I had played "stunt-cock", and I had thought that Freya had some interesting ideas. After she had finished with the women, she came over to my gloved hand. All I can say is, sweet Jesus, I wish I was as lesbian as she is. Her wife is a lucky woman. If that's what it feels like on the hand, I can only imagine what she can do to a real penis...