Making Friends on the Internet (And Sex on the Bottom with Lots of Femdom Femdom Femdom)

How to do blog marketing. Place iPad in sea of lemons. Soak vigorously.

This is going to be an entirely non sexy blog post.

Well, I shouldn’t have said that. Now everyone who might have been reading–all two of you–are going to go away. So, pretend I didn’t say it. There’s going to be so much sex. Tons of sex. You just have to get to the end to see it.

I am having a bit of an existential crisis about my blog.

Blog. Does anyone even read blogs anymore or are we all just posting pictures of ourselves on Instagram? (I think the obvious answer is we are all just posting pictures of ourselves on Instagram.)

I mean, I like Instagram. But my talents lie more in the verbosity department than taking 200 pictures of myself in swimsuits to get the good shot department. (Not saying I’ve done it. Not saying I haven’t.)

The thing was that I’ve been writing about kink for a long time–for myself, for a personal audience, sometimes on forums because I like to hear myself talk and feel important. 😉 And I felt like I wanted to put all of that writing to some use–DO something with it. So, I had this idea that I would make this blog, and it would be very third person and I would take my often very opinionated self out of it.

It would sort of be high minded about sex and kink, like the Gwyneth Paltrow of female domination if Gwyneth wasn’t so annoying and selling candles that figuratively evoke her vagina. (Although, I admit that’s very clever. And why doesn’t MY vagina smell like geraniums? Someone tell me right now that my vagina smells like geraniums.)

And I did that. And I think I wrote about fifty or sixty articles and published them over the past six months or so.

Then in the middle of it all, COVID hit, and I was listening to end of the world podcasts all day, and I also realized that absolutely no one was reading what I was writing, and that was partially because it was all new and Google would have to “notice” it, but it was also because I had no idea how to market myself under a totally new persona. I could not rely on my existing contacts.

And “marketing” oneself on the internet is just totally awful and not what I enjoy. I enjoy WRITING. Marketing oneself on the internet is a form of masochism. #newsceneidea #forcesubtoengagewithothersusingsocialmedia #makehimteachmeallthenewemojis

But I am a self-reflective woman, and I also realized that maybe no one was reading because what I was writing was boring. I had imagined my blog like a newbie primer for men and women who were getting into the idea of femdom–specifically gentle femdom, which is where and how I play. But if there is no YOU in your writing, then it can be rather dull. Not only to read but to write. And there was no ME in my writing, quite purposefully.

So, now, I’ve picked this thing back up, and I’m going to try at it again, but this time showing more of my personality. And I’ve also committed to using Twitter a little and trying to engage more with others in the community, which is, I suppose a form of “marketing.” But let’s call it making friends with people I will probably never meet and who hopefully won’t come to my house and stalk me and murder me in my sleep.

Also, I added all the femdoms in the title purely for craven marketing purposes.

I did promise lots of sex if you stuck around. Didn’t I? Say thank you.

Colin Robinson is My Femdom Spirit Animal

My average, every day going to Whole Foods outfit. You can’t see the coordinated pleather mask with metal studs.

I have a friend who is a masochist. He knows about this blog, so if he sees this, he’ll recognize himself. Hi! Don’t out me. He loves receiving bodily pain…maybe enduring it? I won’t get into the why of it. It’s not my place to analyze his kinks.

And I’ve played with him a few times, and it was entirely exhausting. It was more of a fun challenge to me to see if I could make a dent in his pain tolerance, and the answer was no. (He was so smug too! He knew I wasn’t going to be able to hurt him. It made me wish I had a tire iron and no moral compass.)  Not only was I not strong enough (I have pitiful upper body strength…), I also wasn’t interested enough.

See. Inflicting pain doesn’t do much for me.

I DO love getting reactions. So, I like inflicting pain in as much as it will give me gasps or moans or giggles or entire words or sentences or paragraphs! (Verbal men are god’s rare gifts to this earth.) And I also have a weird thing where if someone puts his finger in my mouth, I kind of want to REALLY chomp on it, and I have to stop myself because I think I might accidentally sever their finger. I like biting in general. Lips. Stomachs. Thighs. Necks. Whatever the fleshy part of the body between your stomach and your back is. It’s so satisfying to sink my teeth in and gnaw.

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But as for being a physical sadist. Meh. I’m a snobby pervert. It’s the intellectual stuff that gets me off.

My real kinks toy with the taboo. The WRONG. Corruption of innocence—in a totally consensual and often fantastical element—is my jam.

Embarrassment.

“Forcing” someone to do something they don’t want to do, reveal something they don’t want to reveal, making them uncomfortable or a little bit afraid or flustered or desperate and watching, fomenting those feelings and then feeding off them. THAT is what I find really sexy.

(By the way, I’ve realized I love putting GIFS in my blog posts. So, sorry. You’re going to have to endure some more. Just remember. If you hate it, I love it! So, you’re just making me happy by hating what I love. But I also love adoration. So, if you love them, you make me happy too. We both win either way. Isn’t that a great game to play?)

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I’m kind of like one of the energy vampires in What We Do in the Shadows. But I hope I’m a little sexier than Colin Robinson. I definitely have more hair.

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Desperation is a BIG kink of mine. Creating it. Not receiving it. One of my most favorite things to do is bring a guy to the brink of orgasm, stop, and watch his reaction. The more he whimpers, begs, bucks or pleads, the wetter I get. It’s so much more erotic than anything HE could do to ME. I get to see his desperation and frustration, imagine what it’s feeling like, hear his excitement and want. It’s like my own personal porn. There is no physical touch that feels as delicious as my imagination.

Honestly, I don’t understand how any woman gets off on vanilla sex. Maybe I’m just wired differently than most women. But I don’t think I am. I think most women require more than just the physical to get turned on. If they didn’t, romance books wouldn’t be so popular.

And the majority of romance books have M/f  power dynamics running through them, whether they’re explicit like 50 Shades or implicit like every cowboy themed my drunken daddy lost the ranch at a poker game and now I’ve been married off to this hunky but damaged man who borderline raped me but now I’m in love with him book.

M/f or F/m. I don’t think they’re so different. They both intellectualize sex and utilize the biggest sex organ—which is obviously the pipe organ. Have you seen those things? They’re huge. Size queen much? What? No pipe organs in your kink? You don’t know what you’re missing out on.

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