I Can See Clearly Now

I knew that I was going to really need our recent Mexico vacation. I had been working around the clock every day, every weekend, almost every minute, for months and I was existing in a temporary depression. What I didn’t realize however, was just exactly how transformative the time away would be for me.

It’s . . . → Read More: I Can See Clearly Now

On Emotional Masochism

I feel like such a lunatic for typing it out but I am pretty convinced that I get some sort of strange pleasure out of feeling small. And by small I don’t mean physically, though I wouldn’t mind losing this tummy and (some of) this ass. I’m talking more along the lines of not as . . . → Read More: On Emotional Masochism

It Felt Like a Kiss: What Submission Means to Me

I’ve realized something about myself lately – and it’s not that I don’t mind the taste of seaweed as much as I once thought – though this is also true. It’s that my submissive side is so much more than an occasional stress reliever or playtime. It’s become what I need and what I crave . . . → Read More: It Felt Like a Kiss: What Submission Means to Me

Confessions of a Fat Kid: How “I’m lazy” destroys self-worth

I’ve been holding off on writing anything lately because I’ve had a bit of a chip on my blog’s shoulder that I’ve needed to remove. I told myself that I can’t write about anything sexy or otherwise until I am finally honest with myself about something that is really eating at my core. I’m afraid . . . → Read More: Confessions of a Fat Kid: How “I’m lazy” destroys self-worth

BDSM. Realizations. Simple Math.

Ah dear NYMP. How I have neglected you so much this year. You understand though, don’t you? I have been so busy planning Digifest and Playground that a) my personal life has not been very exciting; in fact mostly sad and tragic and b) fuck it, I’m tiiiired. However, don’t fret. My worn out little . . . → Read More: BDSM. Realizations. Simple Math.

Y. Oh Y.

Unlike riding a bike, dating for me, is quite … unlike riding a bike. It’s not something I can just pick up again because there are so many factors like state of being, state of relationships and state of confidence that come into play each time.

However, I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe I . . . → Read More: Y. Oh Y.

I’m Here. I’m … ?

“I don’t care which way you swing, Samantha, as long as you’re honest.”

I will always remember my mum telling me those words in our kitchen when I was about 15. I don’t think we were talking about anything serious at the time but for some reason I held onto that knowledge – that my . . . → Read More: I’m Here. I’m … ?

Feed Me: Compost Bin Sexuality

Since Don and I have broken up / taken a break / changed our relationship / WHATEVER the fuck you want to call this state we’re in now, my sex drive has picked up and jumped out the window. It’s not just that situation, though that’s the main contributor. Crush and I haven’t spoken in . . . → Read More: Feed Me: Compost Bin Sexuality

What Doesn’t Kill Us

It sucks knowing that it’s hard for Don to know about the existence of Crush. I feel bad for hurting him because I know it must be strange. For the longest time I haven’t dated any other guys; it’s only been him (and my husband, of course!). But I’ve come to a realization lately (translation, . . . → Read More: What Doesn’t Kill Us

I Didn’t Actually Shoot a Man in Reno

A bit over a month ago I hopped on a plane to head to a little town called Reno, Nevada to meet and visit with some dear friends I originally met on Twitter.

Hopping on “a” plane isn’t very accurate though as I missed my connecting flight and ending up hopping on . . . → Read More: I Didn’t Actually Shoot a Man in Reno