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. 

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.