the biz

As I've mentioned before, my slave tia is an incorrigible smart-ass. Which means that I often have to edit various bits of impertinence out of our porn videos. Today, for your amusement, I present this little collection of smart-ass moments.

Note the riding crop that I use to bring him back in line.

I've been busy doing xmas stuffs with Izzy and the kids. And tia's been out of town visiting his parents in the snowy north. So this blog has been quiet for a little while.

Which assuredly does NOT mean we've stopped being naughty. *wickedgrin*
In fact, I've got enough backlogged material for several salacious posts. Including these screencaps taken from a video we did just before Tia left on his trip. We'd been celebrating, and I got my slut a little tipsy...which naturally resulted in him begging to be turned into my pretty sissy fucktoy:

I love the anxious, worried look on Tia's face in this one. As if he wasn't begging to be turned into a slutty girl like this...

And then fucked like a bitch in heat...

Which, of course, is exactly what I did. It's good to be the Domme!

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On a related note, I've (somewhat reluctantly) decided to close my Southern Charms site. Even with only 2 updates a month, the bare minimum they will allow, I still spend 6-10 hours a month working on that site. And the simple truth is I make more money if I put those hours to work on other things. There are lots of reasons for this; their traffic is not typically seeking my sort of fetish content, they require time-intensive still photo sets, and they discourage (better-selling) video content in member sites to name a few. But the single inescapable conclusion is that MY time is better spent elsewhere.

And the elsewhere I plan on spending that time is on a project devoted to showing - in pictures and video and hardcore GRAPHIC detail - one man's descent into feminized sissy slavery. Stay tuned for more details! ;-D

Have I mentioned that I am a total sci-fi geek? I will watch (almost) anything with a spaceship in it. Or a robot, or an alien monster.

So a few days ago when I was filming this strap-on stroking video, and I was trying to think of what to say (always the hard part for me), I wound up going off in a VERY geeky direction. I started relating a hentai-inspired fantasy involving me as an Amazon Vixen from Venus, who also happens to be an interstellar slave trader with a HUGE THROBBING SHEMALE COCK.

WHICH, of course, YOU as my newly captured slaveboy are now going to service. *evilgrin*

If you manage to please me you'll earn a place in the pleasure houses of Venus. Fail, and it's off to the hell-mines of Mars!

What amazes me is that I went through the whole thing without giggling. I laughed my ass off during the editing! But it was still some damn hot porn. Click the pic for a little taste...to see the entire video you'll have to visit my Clips4Sale store.

Hiya everybody!

I am OVER THE MOON to announce that I've joined the team of Sex & Love bloggers at Creative Loafing.

Come check out my first post, and be sure to leave me a comment!

I will be a regular contributor, writing about the Tampa Bay area's alternative sexuality scene as well as my adventures as a kinky wife & mom, pro dom, and pornmaker. Feel free to write back to me with your questions, comments, observations and of course if you know about a group or event you'd like to see mentioned.

Did I mention I'm thrilled? I think I'm gonna have to knock off early today and have a champagne lunch to celebrate, hehehe! In case you've never heard of it, Creative Loafing is like the Village Voice for those of us south of the Mason Dixon line. It's got regional issues in most of the major cities, and anybody who's looking for hip entertainment around here turns to CL. I grew up around here, and CL was our beacon of coolness in an era when they rolled up the sidewalks at 8pm. Add that it's my first paying gig as a writer and it's doubly exciting. (Note that we're working with a special writer's definition of "paying gig" that includes peanuts.)

Anyway, please come and check it out!

One of the attractions of being a pro domme, and of making porn to sell, is that it leads to so very many interesting experiences.

Take yesterday, when I was honestly able to say "I'm off to do my weekly volunteer shift at the kid's school. But first, I must stop and buy a dildo. It's for work!"

Now how many of you would LOVE to be able to say shit like that and have it be TRUE? Uh-huh, I know you would. ;-D

The experience continued to be interesting once I was actually at the adult bookstore. I was grinning kinda maniacally, and chortling to myself (I do this all the time when thinking of porn I plan to make, ask tia) while perusing the dildo selection. I finally opted for "El Baron Latino" and took it to the counter. I was literally biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I contemplated how well my Latin Baron was going to perform in the foot fetish videos I was buying him for.

And then I looked up, into the fresh, smiling face of the twenty-something young woman behind the counter...

And realized she thought I was a horny, frustrated, middle-aged housewife who was maybe a little TOO happy about having a new dildo to masturbate with!

Yeah, that made it even harder to keep a straight face as I walked out the door, thinking "oh honey, if only you knew!"

Once upon a time my son (aka aspie boy) was a wee lad of three or four years old. At this tender age he was already a dedicated artist, decorating any surface he could reach with any sort of writing/coloring implement he could find.

One day he decided to experiment with more organic media. He began using his own poo to paint with.

He painted the walls. He painted the furniture. He smeared it into the carpet and rubbed it all over his toys. He even daubed it on himself, taking special delight (it seemed) in working it into his hair.

Now this is pretty normal, right? At least, that's what the pediatrician, other parents, etc and so on would assure me when I mentioned it.

But my son? He did this not once or twice but three or four times a day.

EVERY day.

For about SIX MONTHS.

I spent hours every day literally scrubbing the shit out of things. Ever tried to get half-dried poo out from between the prongs of a lego? I recommend avoiding it if at all possible.

This was before we even knew about his autism. And yet, somehow, I managed NOT to murder anybody. There have been other rough times, and I'm sure will be more to come, but that was certainly the {ahem} crappiest.

And that, dear readers, is why I will not do scat or "human toilet" play as anything but a cyber-fantasy.

I wrecked the family car this week.

It was unarguably my fault. I was preoccupied with my own thoughts and drove right through a red light. Lemme tell ya, I felt awful for the poor tourist who hit me.

As for myself...well, I am physically uninjured. And the damage to the car doesn't actually seem that bad; a smooshed rear passenger door and side panel. But the car is so old that it seems likely our insurance company will opt to pay us the blue book value rather than shell out to repair it.

This wouldn't be such a bad thing IF we had the funds to buy a replacement. The car has the automotive version of leprosy anyway. Plastic bits you'd never think were important - like door handles and dashboard knobs - have disintegrated in the hot Florida sun. There's a fossilized mass of gunk that used to be a vanilla milkshake welded to one floorboard, and dents on the hood and roof from where our son (the autistic one) thought it would be fun to play atop the car with a brick. The trunk won't latch and is held shut with a bungee cord. The cheap self-tint film some previous owner applied to the windows is peeling off and starting to affect visibility. If we had the money to replace it with something in better shape I'd be shrugging the whole incident off with a "c'est la vie" and being grateful that nobody was injured.

But we don't. All we have is the pittance the insurance company will pay us for the car.

And the thing is, it's worth a lot more than book value to us. Despite its issues this car is THE reliable transportation not just for Izzy, myself and the kids but also for my mother, tia and his roommate. There's little chance of finding an equally reliable replacement for what the insurance company will pay us. So what should be a minor crisis, easily remedied, becomes a potentially major catastrophe. (And this is what the alleged "recovery" looks like to those of us who are clinging desperately to the lower edge of middle-class.)

It's ironic because I am one of those people who's a fanatic about obeying traffic laws. I'm the sort who will sit through a red light at 3am when there's obviously no traffic for miles because IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO. So naturally the one time I fail to pay adequate attention results in a collision.

But the biggest irony? The thoughts which occupied my mind so much that I failed to mind the road were worries about money.