Let the Good Times Roll

Let the good times roll, let them knock you around, 
Let the good times roll, let them make you a clown

It's hard to be humble when your wishes always come true. The expression is that you can't be grateful and fearful at the same time, but if you really dig deep into gratitude, if you are fully delighted by your charmed life, there isn't much room for humility either. If success comes easy to you, both because you define success so loosely and because you are extraordinarily lucky, motivation becomes fleeting too. 

Narcissus was Pushed, that's the title for a work of fiction that I have drafted fully in my imagination. The title, just now, that's the most I have typed of it in the real world. 

While I slept last night, one of my favorite gooning foot subbies, zoned out and tipped me...well it would be so tacky to share the exact amount, right? Let me instead share this a short story, when I was 19 a lived in a little green cottage on a lake in Nowherebrook, MA. This subbie tipped me my rent in 1992 for that little green cottage. 

That wasn't even the most generous tribute of the past 24 hours.

My top, wait let me clarify that too while we are here, of course he's still my top ya dumb ass. Why would I need his collar? I have his soul embedded in ink in the flesh of my right forearm. One of my favorite characters in one of my favorite books is Zaphod Beeblebrox. Among other things, he carved his initials into sections of his brain before modifying his brains (yes plural, he has two, keep up), so he could keep his plans a secret from himself and also know it was completely his own idea to steal the improbability drive, once it was done. Subliminal exclusively for you Master, all the same, ink be damned, I wouldn't let a submissive of my quality hitchhike around the universe uncollared, but that's just me an experienced Domme of unequalled caliber. 

Back to the lecture at hand. 

My top gives exceptionally good advice, and often times it is diametrically opposed to what I think on the matter I have asked for his thoughts on. Which is such a gift. More important than contemplating if he's right, or if I'm right, it gives me insight and the ability to step outside my own experiences, my own opinions, and to see the matter from the point of view of someone I trust almost as much as I trust myself. I trust myself unquestionably. Those are my initials all over this life. 

One of the most turned over pearls of wisdom he has given me is his observation that people will go to great lengths to avoid being humiliated. It may very well be my favorite dichotomy. He is right, but so was I when I responded, "But Sir, people pay me to humiliate them."  And they do, they come back for more even. 

Humiliation is not my kink. I don't think it's my strongest skill even if my subs would disagree, and never have I ever had my finger on my trigger while imagining that I am anything less than the star of my story. Yet one of the most significant scenes Master **** and I have shared included some rather intense humiliation. I've talked it about it here before, I floated around for weeks in this frequency of profoundly deep contentment. I've questioned how much longer it might have lasted if my mother hadn't taken ill and snapped me right back to reality.  The scene was completely his idea, while I agreed to it, it was not an idea I had any interest in exploring nor do I have any interest in revisiting. It wasn't the specific activity that caused such a flood of endorphins, but I believe rather the risk of allowing myself to feel and look, don't for one second underestimate how vain I am, absolutely ridiculous in front of my top.  In that scene and in other moments I've found myself scared, terrified really, and thinking What if this is the pig blood in Carrie moment? What if this is when he rejects me? What if this is my undoing? What if I am the punchline? 

The answer that soothes me, so what if it is? 

What an absolute rush of power. First and foremost, aiming to undo another speaks more about who they are than who I am, doesn't it? Wouldn't it verify they imagine that I am so very much? If my love and submission were rejected, it could only speak to their lack of taste not the quality of my affection. And if I shake off this scared version of me, trapped here in this moment, and do this thing, push all the chips in, what a payoff no matter how it unfolds. What a rush. Either I cum or it all burns. Oh wait, did I say I humiliation isn't my kink? Fuck, I didn't think I was a masochist either until I felt my feet throb while boarding. 

What I keep coming back to, all in all I think he's right. Most people would do anything to avoid feeling humiliated. The lengths people will go to in the name of self-preservation is fascinating to me, because simultaneously it seems they aren't big fans of the self they are preserving.  Whether it is in ways that only harm themselves, like opting not pursue one's passions in favor of safety and comfort, even if that safety and comfort is within a life they hate, rather than risk being a failure. Or in the ways some lash out, blame others, assign the narrative of their story to those who have wronged them, even if the slight was entirely in their own imagination, rather than examine the choices they made and how they might choose differently in the future. And it seems to me, from here far outside of the mainstream, that is accepted and encouraged by the masses. That we, as individuals and as a society, encourage each other to choose mediocrity rather than risk humiliation. And that, to me, sounds mortifying.  

And I know the night is fading

And I know the time's gonna fly
And I'm never gonna tell you everything I've gotta tell you
But I know I gotta give it a try

Morning. 

Monday morning. 

A rainy Monday morning. I should have set up a camera to record an ASMR vid while I write. Just now, you would have heard the clickety clack of the keys, the tap tap tap of the rain, and the sweetest sigh like someone falling in love. Today, June first of 2026, falls on a Monday, the day after a full blue moon in Sagittarius, and it's raining. How long have we been friends? If it's been more than a minute, you know, I love every word in those sentences. June is destined to be a most perfect month if started like this. 

All the same, May will be a tough act to follow. Where did we leave off? My May kicked off navel gazing on the dance floor of Manray, while the DJ spun NIN and nearly naked bodies stomped and swayed. It had been my intention to end the month at Mohegan, sharing the story about that boy who sings when he's really happy and the one time when he sang to me (readacted), with Ashley. But I am never ever allowed to tell that story and Ash couldn't make it. All good, one must expect and accept the challenges of time if one is ruled by Jupiter and crushing hard on another from her astro-tribe. Instead, I wrapped it up with my most vanilla bestie, doing yoga under the full moon. Clothes on, like I said she's my most vanilla bestie not my freakiest.  

In 10 minutes, I have to vanilla. I'm going to go in my PJs, I used to do that a lot. Because it's a flex, and I can. I double dog dare ya to tell me I can't. There is however much to be gained from following conventional standards and dressing one's best. I am grateful for the years my top held me to it. 

Can I finish the entire recap of May in under 10 minutes? No me know, can you keep up?

First June accountability, I'm going to post 3 times in June. Stop laughing, A. The outlines exist already and B. Dionysus said he'd do something about the 24 hours in a day thing. Yes him, the God of wine that my vanilla name derives from. I think we're going to get Mercury tipsy and lock him a cupboard or something. It'll be fun, and finally I'll have more time to play with. Wish I had thought to ask him sooner. 
Back to May, because oh my, wasn't it great? Big bull Taurus energy, note if that ASMR video were recording, I just bit my lip and wished so hard. But that wish is pinned, my top is still busy being all important and vanilla, and whatever TF he's doing while pining away for me, I hope. Let's see now, what did I do in May? I let Ashley get me all sticky with cotton candy. No, that's not a metaphor, actually sticky. Me and my sticky-phobia, I allowed and loved it, even in my ear. The things we do for love. I know it's so gauche to kiss and tell, and typically I am a keeper of secrets. But I am so down for a whirlwind of summer love and getting sticky with beautiful women. 

What else? Oh, I appeared on Nicholas's new show, YFK Cinema. We caught up, giggled and explored the cult classic Barbarella. The movie quite possibly responsible for starting me on this silly and sexy path. I hosted a group JOI on 231Mutual, and Ms. Danielle and I did an encore round of Behind the Whip. Note to my LD love, if you pop by, now that there will be more hours in the day, perhaps we can again explore making Behind the Whip an ongoing? Or something else, whatever, I miss you, let's play.  

Back to you, faceless masses, I'll be on 231Mutual again this Friday at 8:30p.  Show name tbd, but subject is confirmed; I'm going to share my thoughts on hiring a professional as a couple and as a single woman. Contact me if you'd like more info on joining 231Mutual, think of it as a welcoming but gated community. 

There's a small possibility I may head to Manray after for Yes Daddy. The odds of this happening will go up exponentially if my local friends decide to be less lame, hit me up if you intend to go. 

On a more formal note, I experienced my first lobby day in Albany, NY with Ela-One, DecrimNY and other sw organizations. To be honest, this is among the primary reasons I am looking for places where I can carve more time into my schedule. As a dominatrix, I have had the benefit of being in both one of the most lucrative and the safest corners of sex work. My legal risks have always been minimal, my personal safety has always been high, and as you know, I live a rather charmed life where most of my wishes have come true. I am ready and eager to give back to the community that I have thrived in, and as my little vanillas become not so little, as they become adult vanillas even, I finally can. 

Lastly Bailey Wilde and I were finally able to sync our schedules for a day of content creation last week. Teasers have already been seeded on most of my socials, full length videos should be posted to our fan sites within a week. Perhaps we could hit you off faster if you what? That's right, beg a little and tip a lot. 

My schedule for June is a rough outline and a commitment to go with the flow. We have not yet found my Barbie Dream House. While there is no real rush, looking at almost but not quite perfect spaces wreaks havoc on my equilibrium. The first half of June, now through Flag Day, I only have availability for service subs. If you desire purpose, if you wish to demonstrate your devotion in a meaningful way, step to the front please and come help get my house ready to list. The second half of June is being held open, I am not scheduling sessions with the hope that I will be settled into my soon-to-be discovered Barbie Dream Home and ready to leave my stuff there and go on an adventure lol. I've already had to alter my plans for Alaskan cruise with my vanilla bestie, I hope the Gods of Home and Hearth aren't asking me to sacrifice the rest of my summer plans.

Hit me up privately if you'd like the list of towns I'd consider moving to, and a sketch of what I'm looking for in my Barbie Dream House. 

For my junior fans, the lyrics at the top are from Making Love Out of Nothing at All, Air Supply circa 1983. 

You Can Have My Isolation

Note to those who popped by earlier, I didn't know I had subscribers, sweet. You really should leave a message below, let me know who you are. The version that went live this morning was a draft, accidentally shared when I only intended to pause. Blogger, as far as I can tell, doesn't allow unpublishing a post unless you delete completely. Much too close to what I intended to say to toss & start over, know what I mean? 

Now then, this is the final draft. 

I think.

Where were you the first time you heard Closer by NIN? The first time I heard it I was at a bachelor party for Chuck's friend. I no longer recall his friend's name, but Chuck was a tall strawberry blonde with hair longer than mine and tattoo of a topless woman on horseback. My BFF Tabitha and I were the entertainment at Chuck's friend's bachelor party, and our music ran out. Chuck stopped us from grabbing another of our CDs and said, I have something you're really going to like. 

He was right. On another timeline, I am certain I broke my self-imposed rules with Chuck, and lived out some you look so much like me narcistic taboo fantasies. On this one, I left with his copy of Downward Spiral and let him keep his soul. 

There was something familiar in the porn-pop bass, but the way every space is filled with sound, if you heard it for the first time in the 90s, you had never heard anything like that before. If you weren't introduced to the album version, if you were so unfortunate to hear the radio edit first you didn't actually hear, I want to fuck you like an animal. But you knew that's what Reznor wanted, because while they censored out the profane fuck, they left in the profound .... you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you, you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you.  

Help me get away from myself

Most recently I heard it on Beltane, while grinding on the dance floor of Manrays. Hundreds of bodies rocking Doc Martens, fishnets, latex, electrical tape nip covers, just flowing and sharing a vibe. While contemplating how special yet appropriate it was to find myself there in that moment on the night celebrating the fertility rites of spring, it occurred to me some of these souls may very well been conceived while Nine Inch Nails provided the mood music for their ancestors. Then I blushed when I realized perhaps Trent was spinning while one or two or maybe more of my descendants sparked into being too. 

I broke apart my insides, I've got no soul to sell. 

Yesterday was 3 Mother's days without my mother. That isn't the whole truth though, we didn't spend 2023 together either. That last year, on the Wednesday following I called, I said I left you a message on Sunday. She said I know, I was busy, what did you want? Imagine any infliction you wish, I have intentionally erased the tone from my memory bank. Two weeks later she was admitted to the ICU, and I still haven't found the rewind button. Shortly after my mother passed, I had a dream, I think I may even have already shared it here, she told me now that she lives in my imagination, we'll get along so much better. That wasn't entirely true either. I'm currently pissed at her and not speaking to her at all. 

I invited her to Manray once. Not this incarnation, the original back in 2000. She was 48 then, younger than I am now. I must have been going with Mistress Lisa that night, not my sane Ex or that new guy I was lusting over. You know the artist that often rocked a Bowie in Labyrinth look. It must have been with Mistress Lisa. Mistress Lisa was the dad of a kid my little sister dated, and while I enjoyed her company, I was hoping to pawn her off on my mom. He was cool enough, but not my type. My mom however has always loved a man in uniform, and hetero cross-dressers in the 90s really were just dudes in alt uniforms. 

It's really easy to imagine an alternate timeline where she didn't say she was too old to go to a club that opened at 9p. I can see myself taking her by the hand, making her try on my latex skirts, convincing her that she looks great in fishnets. Come on, try the black lipstick, it'll be fun.  Why not go out to a club that opens at 9p, we can bail if you're not having fun. How would that timeline unfold? If the sane ex was there that night, would my mom had acted like a high school bestie? Gotten all up in his face,dude you're breaking my daughter's heart? If the new crush were there would the objections she had to him later have come sooner? It wouldn't have mattered, I wouldn't have listened. I have always held the opinion that my mother had terrible taste in men. Her objections would have made him even more irresistible to me. But I can see so many possibilities. While grabbing post club breakfast would she have said, whatever happened to the boy that was moving to Florida, you should see if he's on that MySpace. My imagination holds no timeline that lacks the souls that sprung from that window in time. Fate had them lined up for me long before that weekend. But maybe had she gone Mother's day 2023 would be the year she told my little vanillas how their crazy mother dragged her to a fetish club back in 2000, can you imagine?