I Need Blood

and he has more than enough. 

Not the inchworm. Can you even see him? Look closer, we'll likely come back to him later. 

the guy sure looks like plant food to me
Feed me Seymour, feed me all night long

It's Monday, and what's Monday? That's right, it is the best day of the week. Cass is engaging a little self-care aftercare, and today that includes show tunes. 

Flipped my eggs with jazz hands and the old razzle dazzle. Ya, that makes them taste better. Leave a comment, let me know if you try it. 

FuckingA, I love this charmed life I woke up in.

There's an alternate reality where the song playing while I type is Poison's I Won't Forget You and the photo is of a pink can of Aqua Net framed by some cutesy kitschy tchotchkes. But my frequency rose so fucking high, and I really want to hang out here on this plateau so much longer. 

This is how I do my aftercare now. I wonder if my comrades in kink have unlocked this? That instead of aftercare that guides you back to reality, you could opt instead to vibe all those juicy endorphins out to the edges, create a space right here, yes this high, then superimpose reality here, you don't have to drop or glide. Why not hang out here? There's so many to choose from, and this is a wicked cool version of reality. 

Let the muggles call it mania, they fake orgasms and say what we do is shameful. 

I didn't even engage in any sort of play. Well, wait that's not entirely true. I didn't engage in anything that any vanilla would imagine if they tried to imagine how a room full of hot sw'ers would play if they were hanging out and having a private dinner party. Did I say hot? Let's clarify that, I meant to say, hotter than the sun. Another day play might very well look just as sexy and debauched as anything in the naughtiest corner of your imagination, but today my endorphin overflow was brought on by delicious food, meaningful conversation and giggles over this inchworm on our way for paninis and lavender chai. The bounce in my step is the echo of, I almost bought you that same tarot deck, I know you love Mondays. 

The inchworm appeared on my thigh, while Ashley whipped her (redacted for privacy & safety) quite fast down a country mountain road. It was so Norman Rockwell, if Norm ever painted a porn star and professional dominatrix on their way to Sunday brunch. Any other day the poor little thing would have been missed, likely crushed, because I have control issues and never sit the passenger seat. But that day I said sure, let's let my most distractable love take the wheel, why not. Then let's rapid fire subject hop through the deepest of thoughts but leave room for interjections of silly too. Then there he was, just chilling on my thigh. Sending him out the window or leaving him to roam in Ashley's car would surely have resulted in an unnaturally shortened life. Poor thing would have missed out on turning to goo and becoming a moth or butterfly- whichever green little inchworms from Vermont are destined to become. So I hosted an impromptu insect photoshoot, then released him safely in the patch of grass outside of the most quintessential Vermont coffee shop. As a worm he wasn't very photogenic but perhaps when he gets his wings, he'll find himself on a postcard. 

There is a deeper message here, and some readers caught it already, but I know most of you could use a Cass-to-Vanilla decoder ring. That's okay, you don't live this sort of life. Which is why you're here, because the bounce you get vicariously feels good, right? 

There isn't anything inherently shameful in indulging in what brings you pleasure. That is part of takeaway I want to convey, that I mean anything, good food, great conversation, being silly, or having reality rocking orgasms are valid ways to explore pleasure. There should only be choosing an appropriate time and a place, practicing moderation that supports your long-term health and well-being, and reserving enough time for the more mundane components of a well-rounded life, but that without pleasure it just isn't a well-rounded life. 

This is an extension of the last post. If you haven't read it yet, I'd really love it if you went back one and caught up before going forward. Next time perhaps I'll put a handy link here to make it easier, but you like doing little challenges for me, don't you? Next entry we go even deeper. If you jump in after the party starts, I'm not going to be held responsible if you're not wet enough. 

Give Me A Second

 

I need to get my story straight

Yes, Let Them. 
Yes, starve it and let it die. 
Personally, I love RuPaul's version best, other people's opinions of me are none of my business. 

It's tricky though. It's just not in my nature to ignore the elephant in the room, and it unsettles my equilibrium when others do. What do you mean we're just going to walk around it? Do you know how long it takes to starve an elephant? 

I've done it before; you really have to commit. Absolutely not one crumb, and you must really mean it when you decide it doesn't matter to you if it is still watching. It'll make so much noise as it approaches the end. You have to be ready to tell your compassion and your ego, to just be quiet and let it go. 

There's an idea I want to explore here with you. I've started it and chickened out at least 6 times already. Yes, I know, I claim to be so very brave and bold, and I am. Anyone who says otherwise is a fibber and we should see if their pants are smoldering. It's just that it feels a little risky to explore, and that elephant, don't look at it, she said she'll be watching. I wouldn't be lying if I said it feels less safe sharing it now. 

If I am being my most honest self though, sometimes even for an experienced exhibitionist like me, sharing one's inner thoughts out loud is just scary.  Have I ever shared the reoccurring theme I have in my dreams? At least once every few weeks, for decades now, I have a dream where some situation is growing out of control. Sometimes it is that I'm driving but I'm in the wrong seat of my car, maybe I'm back in school but I don't remember the combination to my locker. It is always something is happening that is causing me an escalating panic. So, dream me takes a deep breath and then takes off all of my clothes.  Once I'm naked, I remember the combination, or I slide into the driver's seat. I suspect this may be a symptom of just how wonky my wiring is, but that version that lives in my imagination is how bold I aspire to be. I'm so close, you've seen me naked, haven't you? Was I at work? I want to be even braver; I want my writing to be as exposed and vulnerable as the content on my OnlyFans. 

The unshared post is titled: Prioritizing Pleasure. Alternately I considered; Hire Hookers and Dye Your Poodle Pink, but not everyone has a poodle. Fi has been pink for two, maybe three years now. I started around when my Mom passed, and that's three years today. I'm as neurotic about Fiona's roots as I am about my own. Every four weeks I send her to the puppy spa with directions to wash, blow her hair out like an 80s rock star and dye her pink. We have done magenta trim on a continental cut, a pink balayage on a Maimi, and currently she's rocking a bubble gum pink jacket & pants cut. The color fades, but the effect it has on me hasn't yet. Every single time I see her silly pink face, my endorphins spike and I feel profoundly happy, that's my silly pink poodle. And before you start to channel my mom, before you spout off any nonsense about what a waste of money this must be, A. it costs less than a week of smoking and B. my happiness is my highest priority. Having a pink poodle ensures that I meet that goal daily. Whatever else might go haywire, whatever small annoyance or crushing sadness crosses my path, I can handle it and get right back to the state of mind I belong in, because I have a pink poodle. 

Your milage will vary, a pink poodle probably isn't the key to your most infectious joy, but I can't stress enough that you should try to find what makes you this happy and indulge in it, often. Really, as often as you can. 

Which brings us to the other half of the alternate title. I'm not going to repeat the sentence; I only had a one-time pass. You don't have a pass at all, unless you, yourself are, a lady of the night. Let's get this little moment of education out of the way, it is important to me that you know this. The H-word is like the N-word, if you're not one, you can't say it. Ever. So, if I hear you, or if anyone hears you using it, let it be known it is affirmation that you currently or have ever earned your living as such, okay? Now with that being said, there is absolutely no reason to be shamed or embarrassed if you have or if you are accidentally thought to have been. For real, much love to you, you helped someone feel less lonely and likely so incredibly good. Why should anyone, ever, feel bad to have done that?  

When I said it above, what I really mean is all sex workers. And if you've never, if this terminology is new to you, if you're not sure exactly what sort of services I am referring to, I'd be happy to explain. Sex workers might be in person or full service, but they're not always. Fantasy phone operators, escorts, content creators for adult only sites, dominatrixes, porn stars, strippers, sugar babies, can all be considered sex workers. Not everyone in these fields embraces this terminology, and that's okay. I resisted the term for myself for decades, as I don't provide full service. Among other reasons I always feared that my clients wouldn't understand the subtle nuances of the term, that they might, when we are alone together, expect things that are not available. However, it is a respectful and appropriate term and I'm going to trust that my clients are bright enough to understand limits.  

Prioritize your pleasure and engage with sex workers, that's the idea I want to explore. 

I saw my favorite clients again just recently. I shared a little bit of their session on my FetLife group, Alchemy with Mistress Cassidy. It's a couple who engage me for my expertise in their fantasy a few times a year. Now I'm not going to disclose the theme of their session, it doesn't matter, what matters is that they have made a commitment to themselves to do what makes them happy. And as the professional in this equation, I feel so good contributing to turning their ideas into an unforgettable experience. It's what I do for my male clients too, but there is something that just feels extra special when I get to work with women and couples. 

I want to explore this here in my next couple posts. Why women and couples should engage professionals. As a professional, and as an occasional client, I want to share my insights on how to have an amazing experience. Which will include how to find the right professional for you. Tips for conveying your ideas, your fantasies, appropriately. And why you should let go of your fears and shame, and explore what makes you happy. Because your happiness should be your highest priority too. 

Mercury

Did you know I was born during a Mercury retrograde? I was, on the day after Thanksgiving 1972. My top was too. It's not really as odd as I may have implied. Mercury retrogrades 3 times a year on average, every year. Check your chart, maybe you were too. 

I have this informal theory though that there's something a little magnetic about those of us born while the messenger of the Gods is spinning backwards. You're intrigued, you don't quite understand us, but you want to try. You wish you could be like us. Then again maybe it's just me, maybe I'm just weird.  

At the beginning of June, I said I was going to write three posts this month. We have 11 hours, and 55 minutes for me to keep my word. It's cool, I love a deadline and I can name this tune in just one note Chuck. 

There was one entry posted when I decided 3 was the magic number for June, and I already had the other two outlined. One explores prioritizing pleasure, and the other about how to arrange to collab with me. They're outlined on paper, fully realized in my thoughts, translating them into keys tapped- convenance of precisely what I mean into a form I can share with you, well, that's not really put together yet. Each is important to me, and I really wish to do them well. 

When I sat down to write the last entry I just couldn't find either thread. That happens, and it's okay. My thoughts were all tangled up with the nonsense from the stalker I playfully refer to as the President of the Cassidy Cream fan club, and with the recognition that the anniversary of my mother's passing is quickly approaching. I couldn't quiet my thoughts from wondering what impact my relationship with my mother has had on the type of women I am attracted to and so instead I wrote the post before this, a quick exploration of my thoughts on humiliation. And yes, it was 100% inspired by the actions of the aforementioned stalker. 

Thanks, I guess.

Now to be honest, I wasn't going to tackle either of the planned subjects again today. It's June 30th, I really meant it when I promised myself there would be 3 entries this month, but I was up late last night. Nicholas (of Your Kinky Friends and YKF's Cinema Show) asked if I could come on the show when another creator had to reschedule with little notice. I asked him off air if he had asked anyone else, he said I was the first person he thought of. That humbles and flatters me, that is exactly where I aimed to be as a member of our community. I wished to be the person other kink professionals think of when they think, I need someone I can trust to show up. And here I am, my reality reflecting precisely how I imagined my life should look. Anyway, so I was up late last night, and I also have a rather important task in my vanilla life to tackle today too. Tomorrow marks 33 years since I brought whole human earthside, after creating her in my body. Can you imagine? That's a thing I can do, and I've done quite a few times. Yes, I know, it's been done 8 billion other times. Perhaps you somehow think that makes it less special, I assure you, much like a rose by any other name, call me what ya like, I make humans. Ergo, I am a Goddess. And tomorrow we celebrate one of my junior Goddesses. Wish Claudia a happy thirty-third should you see her.

And so I was again going to push back those two entries, pin them for July, and instead I was going to whip up an easy A. A quick recap of June, promo the show last night with Nicholas, bemoan that I didn't travel anywhere but tease that there may be a visit with my NYC love. Share that my July schedule is still rather fluid because house hunting sucks so hard, that I am committed to host on 231Mutual but I forget what dates, and wrap it up with a quick reminder to go pop off to my OF so you can, you know, pop off with me.  

Imagine my surprise when I got here, checked the stats on my last post, thought oh my goodness someone listened last night on YFK when Nicholas and I said, for real be brave, leave comments for writers. Two comments, oh my, you like me, you really like me (Sally Field, Google Sally Field's acceptance speech if you don't know the reference, I love that my audience skews young and sincerely I hope I don't make you feel less than with my Gen X references) But let's all lol loudly, because of course the commenter does, she's the president of my fan club.  

I know, who cares what psychiatrists write on walls (12 Monkeys, you'll love it). Ignore her and she'll go away, that's what I'd tell Claudia. It's solid advice. Let them, that's what my top said, also great advice and a good book so far. But also, will she? Will she go away? When? Why should I be the bigger person? I was minding my business. Never have I ever reached out to her, and yet here I am again with my day half undone because of some noise left by some insignificunt (Boondock Saints). 

This post isn't what I intended, or even my back-up plan. But it is the third post in June, and that's all I promised myself I'd do. There are some good movie recommendations sprinkled through it, let me know what you think if you watch them. Stayed tuned, there will be three more in July. Maybe two will be the ones I've been trying to finish for so long or maybe it'll a slideshow from my next adventure. I promise it won't be boring, and you'll never, ever forget me.