Contact Resumed

I have emerged from my lair, and I suppose I owe some of you an explanation.

Just to get speculation out of the way, I am not responsible for, nor have I not been doing any of the following:

  • Forgotten in a basement dungeon after the announcement of the royal wedding
  • A guest at Silvio Berlusconi’s “bunga-bunga” parties
  • Trapped as a dancing girl in Muammar Gaddafi’s harem while Libya falls apart

I am fine… ish. The reasons for my disappearance are that I managed to get snowed in out in the wilds of the countryside during the Big Freeze. I then managed to get a stomach bug that transformed me into an understudy from The Exorcist.

During both mishaps, working was simply out of the question, and I also literally could not summon the energy to tap out a few words on the keyboard. Instead, I became reacquainted with daytime television, which has snuffed out any hope I had left for the future of humanity.

Recently, I’ve managed to get my strength back up (I lost an awful lot of weight thanks to the stomach bug) and have been updating my Twitter feed with the occasional link or musing. I am now “fit for action,” so to speak, and normal service has resumed.

Why not check out my Google calendar, which I am now trying to keep up to date, to see the periods when I am available?

Once again, I apologise for not replying to emails individually, but I was either out of range or very unwell.

[Image from Flickr]


Not What We Do

Read this now! I can’t find the original posting on Yes Means Yes, though I admit I didn’t look very hard. This piece, however, is an extremely good and comprehensive take-down of the misconceptions that surround kink. A must-read for anyone who has ever had a deviant thought.


Photo Studio

Credit: Stella Dauer/Flickr

If you’ve been following me around my various internet haunts for a while, you’ll know that the pictures I currently have (mostly thanks to OF) are out of date and that I could do with some new ones. Alas, I am not minded to shell out on a studio photoshoot, nor am I inclined to do a series of experimental self-portraits. Instead, I have decided to do the next best thing: from now on, I’ll be bringing a camera to sessions with me. You can take as many pictures as the memory card will handle and I will then select the best for display, either here or at my paid galleries at Adultwork. Photographers, of course, will be given a PIN to access their work for free.

Before any budding David Baileys get a little too excited, allow me to clarify: I envisage these pictures as being fairly abstract, shots of parts of my body rather than stereotypical porn. Anything that allows for my easy identification will not make it on to the ‘net, nor will anything that requires more than just a little pointing and clicking. An elaborate mise en scène this is not; no extra time will be given during a booking for you to get the lighting or contrast right, nor will I have access to a Tardis-like dressing-up box for accessories. Nevertheless, I would hope that some imaginative shots will be evocative enough to bring the essence and spirit of a BDSM session to life.

Alternatively, I am quite happy to play in lieu of pay for Dominant professionals who would like to put together a set of pictures, provided that we share copyright and (once again) that I am not easily identifiable. In this instance, however, you will need to have access to a studio or dungeon of your own.

If you have any questions, you can always contact me to clear up any details you are unsure of.

Do Boys Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses?

I have to admit, I was over my illness a while ago, but I’ve been avoiding taking bookings out of vanity.

I usually wear contact lenses. Specifically, I wear the kind of contact lenses that you stick in at the beginning of the month, forget about, and replace in 30 days’ time. I have worn contact lenses for years without any problems and fully expected to continue doing so after my last eye test, only my ophthalmologist intervened.

I’d been overdoing the freedom from face furniture and now have to pay a fine in the form of not getting a contact lens prescription until the blood vessels around my optic nerve look better. Zeus alone knows when that will be, as I don’t have all of the funky equipment that opticians have to hand, so at the moment I am a four-eyes.

I haven’t been taking bookings because I do realise that I am supposed to look a certain way and that “librarian” is not one of the personas I have ever been asked to adopt. Also, without my glasses, stylish as they they may be, I am scandalously short-sighted. I would barely need to be blindfolded for a scene.

I know that there are men out there who do have a predilection for women wearing spectacles (the fetish is “matogyaliaphilia,” apparently), but aside from one very insistent Serbian barman, I haven’t met any recently. Still, I have to admit that I enjoy the difference of my four-eyes persona. It is very interesting to see the sorts of people who automaticaly treat you more seriously if you happen to have your “stern” face and some Emporio Armani lenses flashing.

So be warned: I am healthy and well, and available for bookings. I just happen to be wearing glasses at the moment. If you think you’d be able to cope and would still like to arrange an appointment, by all means carry on. On the other hand, you could wait for me to get back to my contact lenses, whenever that may be.

In Search of the Elusive G-spot

Apparently, a new study from Kings College has disproved the existence of the G-spot, that mythical nub of flesh somewhere inside the vagina that will cause all women to scream like the ladies in porn films. Really? I’d love to have been a participant in that study, because until recently I was convinced that I could never squirt. Hitachi may have proved me wrong, but until it happened I would have sworn blind that there are some things that the majority of women just don’t do.

Not all women can orgasm from PIV sex alone. Not all women will climax from clitoral stimulation. And there are some women who find it very difficult indeed to orgasm during intercourse at all. This doesn’t make them freaks or outliers. Rather, they need to find partners who fit in with what I like to call their “sexual psychology.” Freakish as it may seem, there are also men who need certain milestones before they can cum during a sexual encounter, and who are happy to end copulation  without ejacuation if conditions aren’t right for them. Neither group should be considered freaks; nor should they need special consideration because they deviate from the norm (which is fake, as most people lie about their sexual experiences anyway, just as they do about their drinking).

So, a basket of “silly rabbit” stuffed toys to the researcher, who have pissed off untold numbers of women who can locate their G-spot. And a hearty “fuck you” to those that funded them. I em envisioning a cabal of millionaires with more money than sense, and terrible finger skills. In the meantime, I am off to reacquaint myself with my vagina and G-spot.

Oh, Hai!*,

oh-haiIf you are visiting as the result of the email I sent out earlier, welcome to my new online home!

As you will have been able to see, my last website has not been updated in aeons, I suspect because the orginal outfit in charge has gone out of business. So despite having access to my files, I couldn’t amend or update them there, which is what precipitated this wholesale defection to another web platform. Why not buy my own domain, you ask? Well, because then you’d be able to find out my home address.

So this is now my new online home, which I’m hoping will be a slightly more interactive experience than previously. Along with all of the regular information, there are also going to be the occasional musings on sexuality, polls and the picking of minds. Feel free to leave a comment under a pseudonym on any open posts (I will be the only one who ever has your email address); those of you with “official” nicknames can now use them with abandon. Oh, and for those who partake in its abbreviated delights, I am also on Twitter.

I know that I was very naughty, going to ground without so much as a by-your-leave or a permission slip from the headmaster, but I am back now, and am now more accessible than ever before. Consider this new venue my virtual leash.

* I can’t promise that this will be my only use of LOLcat-speak.