be picky.  don’t settle.  don’t lower your standards.  don’t.  settle.

you’ll get called a bitch but at least you won’t be stuck in some horrid heteronormative nightmare with a deeply average boring man who can’t even fuck you right.


In Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston writes that some years ask questions and others answer.

This year answered a lot of questions. 2013 was major for me, maybe my favorite year yet. I’ve grown so much in myself, done so much difficult but important personal work.

An ex once told me that she thought I wasn’t a complete person. It’s the most hurtful thing anyone has said about me, I think, especially since she was kind of right. But this year is the first time I can look at myself and see a whole entity. Nothing’s perfect. But I’ve never felt so secure in myself as a unit, so willing to rely on myself and know my capabilities.

Thank you for sticking around for the journey.


– Shel Silverstein


Happy New Year’s Eve, followers.

Drink responsibly, respect boundaries, get messy in your kitchen.


“No mask this time,” Sir told me, “just pretty you. Your pretty face. Maybe I’ll let you bring your blindfold just in case, but you’re not escaping behind a mask this time.”

(I’m so nervous and excited I’m not sure I will be able to sleep.)



I have a training regimen all planned for kitten.

Have I mentioned Mr. Purple has a little suction cup?

(But also: nope nope nope nope nope.)


So, I went out with my friends today and bought a cute lingerie set for our crazy New Year’s Eve plans. 

I figured everyone would be wearing black and red and whatnot, so I figured I’d wear something white. My dress is black, and I figure it’ll be a surprising reveal to take off the dress and have a sweet little white thing on. I’d get more specific, but I’m trying to surprise Sir.

It’s super sweet and virginal-looking and I’m a sucker for that naughty innocence and corruptibility narrative so I’m pretty excited.

Jesus Christ


How do you all shave your own pussy lips?

I’ve practically put my feet behind my head to be able to get the right angle and they’re still not perfect.

Like the mons is bare but the lips are a hot mess.



I’m the fussiest girl ever. And knowing that, having my clothing bunched around one of my wrists, stuck there because I was cuffed, would drive me absolutely nuts.


“Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test.” – Essays in Love by Alain de Botton.