I love these eclectic images from the Toronto artist Jon Todd.  This first one in particular reminds me of a print Robbie owns of a beautiful Indian woman, bare-breasted, with her sari framing her face the way the iconic halo is framing this woman’s head.

I’ve always loved art with rich colors, and I especially appreciate the mosaic effect in a lot of Todd’s work.  In his “Snake Handler,” for instance, the woman’s entire eye and eyelid are covered in a grid of color, like her neck and the neck of the woman above.  (I also find the corset more than a little appealing.)  You can clearly see Mexican, Russian, and Japanese accents in the art, as well as the influence of tattoo artists.

Turns out Todd sells geisha t-shirts and other gear, although all but his extra-small geisha hoodies are sold out at the moment.  I hope that means he–and be-geisha’d goth girls–are having good times right now.

Down-low on Todd via Lost at E-Minor.

I’ve written before about how much I love games, poker, and every type of wager.  I can’t imagine much that could make the sexy game of poker sexier.  But it’s important never to say never, and now a lovely, kinky friend of mine has designed the back of this deck of fetish-and-Mardi-Gras-themed poker cards.  She and three other artists have all chipped in to create the face cards–masked men and women in bondage or doing lovely, awful, wonderful, nasty things to each other.  Robbie and I have joked for months about how these are the real definition of stocking stuffers, and now the cards are out, just in time for the holidays.  $20 per deck, available through the Deck of Art.  I get nothing in kickbacks, but I do confess that I’m hoping for a little smooch for being such a good girl this year.  *Mwah* to the lovely tartdesweet, whose own paintings can be found on her website.


I have a ton of things to say and no time to say them; I have a window of four hours between now and when I have to get up to travel, so I am going to preview what I would post about and might post about–especially if I could stop time like the hero in Nicholson Baker’s quasi-pornographic The Fermata.

– I’m tired. (Okay not a good post topic, just trivia; warming up here.)

– I’m getting myself a corset!!!!!!  I think.

– I’m going to see Robbie soon! . . . I’m pretty sure.

– If we see each other he is going to beat my ass until it’s rosy, and keep it that way (a promise).

– I actually found a vibrator that works–as in, makes me cum.  (More about that when I’ve shown it to Robbie; right now it’s a top secret surprise, shhhhh.)

– Robbie is more social than I am.  This is something that deserves some thought, or not.

– I like Eartha Kitt, and I’m sad she’s dead.

– I’m horny.

– I found some neat new places to find e-cards; I’ll post links to them soon.

– I need to finish that post I promised Robbie about Thanksgiving.  There was lots more ropeplay, and I owe descriptions of it, especially since we’re planning more soon and I’m never going to keep up at this rate.

I think that’s about all I can think of.  Oh yeah, there is a recurring fantasy I wanted to write about, something involving a beach in Mexico and a bottle of massage oil . . . well, maybe there is time for just a quickie . . .

Pin-up pic of Jessie With Bubbles, by Sol Lang.  Via pinkmilk.

We are going to parties this weekend. Not play parties–cocktail and formal parties. This is exciting. We have never done this. We rarely go out when we are together, and when we do, it’s with a small group of (often kinky) friends. So it’s exciting to venture out into Society (*snorfle snarfle*) with Robbie.

We both like social niceties, especially when we can fuck with them. Robbie in particular likes the idea of mixing elegant manners and perversion–very Story of O, him. For my part, I am an inveterate exhibitionist and can say or do some rather irreverent things, especially when I am mixed with alcohol. I expect it will be some weekend.

One of the best things about the weekend from my point of view is that we will have to dress up. Robbie lives in the country and spends most of his time in (sexy) jeans–and although he likes me in skirts, I persist while down on the farm in wearing really unattractive knit cotton pajama-like things from the Gap, which I can work in.

But today I bought the most gorgeous skirt ever. It’s so long I look 20 feet tall, and it’s so stunning I barely need to wear anything with it.

As it happens, I will be wearing some things with it: heels, underthings, a white t-shirt, and either a necklace or my collar, which I left at Robbie’s house when I left there, the last time, after the fight-to-end-all-fights, which was followed by reconciliation. We are nothing if not predictable.

And he will be wearing a suit. I have never seen him in a suit. When he walked into the place we were staying for our dirty weekend wearing a dress shirt (kind of), I almost fell over, I was so amazed at how he looked. So I am very much looking forward to seeing him in a suit.

And to seeing him again.

Images by Rebecca Beard and erocrush, via a flower a day.

I got a new MP3 player yesterday. This particular MP3 player comes in all sorts of luscious colors–red, lime green, pink, royal blue–nice, clear colors, not tacky.

I opened the box, expecting a fire-engine-red gadget, and saw a shiny, jet-black model.

WTF? By now there are enough black electronics at the bottom of my purse to make fishing the right thing out a major challenge. And, you know, it’s just not . . . fun.

But then I remembered. EVERYTHING IS BLACK. He has decreed that all our sex toys and all our equipment is to be black if at all possible.

New Toy

(From JT’s Stockroom, of course.)

We have black cuffs. Black dongs–many. (It helps that at EdenFantasy, you can search for dildos by color.) Black butt plugs, black gags, and of course, black crops and hitty-things. If it isn’t black already, he literally paints it black. Sometimes I worry about what’s in the paint.

I have a black waist-cincher and black gloves, and two pairs of black boots (as does he–or perhaps he has three). We wear black when we go out; truth be told we look like New Yorkers rather than kinksters, but it works.

So I suppose I instinctively chose black when I ordered my newest toy. Perhaps I should buy a toy for him, too?

There is one toy he wants in fire-engine red instead of black, I know.

Red Posture Collar

Red medical-style patent leather corset lace-up posture collar from restrictionwear.  Mmm . . .

From the sublime to the practical . . .

Belated news from the sex toy front:

redmassager.jpg1. We finally really used the njoy fun wand over the holidays . . . and it was electrically good (okay, for him, as a massage tool.) At least it’s more stylish, and more effective, than those plastic back massagers.

bodywax.jpg2. Soy candles are all they are cracked up to be, and more. Thank you to my best friend, who is not yet kinky but who swore up down and sideways that they were the sexiest party favor she had ever encountered. Or as he said, “I expect one of those in my Christmas stocking every year.”

3. There were floggers galore at the play party and I got worked over by several of them, thanks to some wonderful people and to my lover’s patience and generosity. And so leather falls and the like are now on our list of way-too-expensive, needed-it-yesterday items, along with suspension cuffs, corsets, and . . . oh, we had a bigger list, in a file on his computer. It’s a good thing we keep forgetting to update it because we have no money.

flashlight-vibe.jpg4. I still don’t have a mini-keychain-flashlight-vibe, and I still have no idea why not. Two-second political screed: if the abstinence-only folks were really concerned about young women, they’d hand these babies out like candy.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled perversions.

Things I hate: When people don’t write things on their blogs. If I bookmark you, I want a little love. (Then again, I’m still too leery of this newfangled “internet” thing to subscribe to any feeds, so I suppose it’s my own fault.)

Things I love: My lover. Did I mention that? We have a play party to go to tonight and I am a little nervous, because I always am before socializing with other mammals. My nervousness is showing up in undue anxiety about the size of my tummy (which is, I admit, considerable at the moment, bloatedly premenstrual as it is). I whined about all of this, and he shot back, “Too bad, I guess you wish you had a corset now!” Sheesh.

Not the Actual Skirt or the Actual MeBut he sent me not one but two sweet emails about what I wanted to wear . . . he is very eager to make play events fun and comfortable for me, I know. And I was all in a froth about it until I found in an odd corner of my closet a lacy skirt I bought on a whim a couple of weeks ago–it will look great at the party and I can wear it to a meeting on Monday. Perfect. After all, clothes are pervertible, too.