Sex Toys: Bad Dragon

Cern, bless his cotton socks, has introduced me to things that I had no idea existed. I know I know, shocking right?!

Now for those of you like me who had no idea what Bad Dragon was until it was wedged between your legs as you squealed and back-peddled up the bed then you’ll be delighted to know that they are an adult sex toy shop. Which isn’t about normal sex toys. Oh no.

They have some pretty amazing items in there.

And that’s just some of the interesting implements that they stock.

I got lost looking at their website and it was only after Cern chased me up the bed with his torture device did it all start to perk my imagination a wee bit.

You see he has the bruiser and a sheath basilisk in large. We’ve had some fun with both. I mean, after I picked my jaw up from the floor and said that they wouldn’t fit because I’m too little. He proved me wrong. He likes proving me wrong. He gets this evil glint in his eye when he does and that cheeky “I’m right” grin on his face that makes me want to stomp my feet and rawr at him.

However back to the toys, oh the tooooooooooooys. So anyway. The first time he pulled out the bruiser my eyes watered and I may have climbed up the bed to try to get away. He slid the darn into his jeans and grabbed me to pull me back down again. And let’s just say that anytime he climbs above me and pins me down, I turn into a gooey mess is probably the best description I can think of. So he slowly edged the thing into me as I whimpered and thought “Oh sex gods, I’m dying” because it felt like I was being split in two. It was uncomfortable as it was different. He kept his eyes glued to mine the entire time. He stopped pushing that damn thing in. I silently thanked whichever god was listening and took a deep breath. Then he slowly moved out and in. He kept up a slow rhythm. And before long I may have panted and moaned. Raising my hips to meet his as he thrust. It still felt like I was being ripped in two. But it was a ripped in two I could happily get off on. And I did. Repeatedly. Until, that was he tried to push past the huge fuck off knot the damn thing has near the base of it. It’s the size of my fist. I measured. And my eyes may have bulged out. It felt like they did anyway. No matter how hard he pushed, that thing wasn’t going in and I started to climb up the bed again.


The Bruiser


Cern thinks I can take it. I think I may die if I do. We’re at an impasse and I fear the day he takes it in his head to spend an afternoon between my legs making me take the entire thing.

Second on the list was the basilisk sheath. Now that thing was fun. We used it early in our relationship, just before I broke his penis.

It was uncomfortable too, but not to the point that I thought I was screaming (apparently I wasn’t) and wanting to die. This one was a lot more fun. I think it’s because of the added bonus of the tip of his penis peeking out the top so that he gets sensation from it as much as I do. There are ribs inside the sheath for his added pleasure too. He said it grips him and he can feel the thrusts through it. So not only does it have knobs on the outside, it has knobs on the inside!! Winning on both ends here.


How did it feel? It felt like I was still being ripped in half, however there was no uncomfortableness. It was pleasant, yet felt like I was being stretched in a good way. There was no “oh gods no” there was just “oh. oh my gods, yes!!!” But like the bruiser it’s nice that he went slow at first. I don’t think you can rush these things, unless you have a buckload of lube on hand and don’t mind tearing something. And since Cern has a nice habit of tearing me without toys, I found it nice that he took it easy on me with them. Yes, I know, I’m keeping him.

So Bad Dragon? Why weird sex toys? Well you see, there’s a whole subset of people who get off on role-playing. This plays into so many different sub-sets and areas of sexuality because the toys are so wonderfully sci-fi, fantasy and amazingly fun that how could you not want to have a go? Granted, maybe try the smaller sizes first since the big ones scare me. Unless you’re into that kind of thing. In which case GO FOR IT. Then send me a video.

However, getting back on point. I think this plays really nicely into the being taken, stretched, used and having a lot of cum dumped in you fantasy really well. Especially since the bruiser and other toys come with the tube where you can use their goopy lube as cum to insert into the person you’re currently fucking with it. I don’t know about you but it seriously turns me on when I can feel my insides filled, on nights when I can actually feel Cern’s cock throbbing as he comes turns me on to the point where I have to masturbate afterwards furiously. He made a funny comment the other night saying that most guys would be upset if their partner felt the urge to masturbate after sex because they thought they weren’t doing a good enough job getting her off, but I’m masturbating because his orgasm turned me on more. He found it endlessly amusing. I got off fine during sex with him. I love sex with him on so many levels. But when I can feel him actually come deep inside me? And that pulse as he moans? Ohhh phwoar! It turns me on like nothing else. So yes, masturbating while I feel his come dripping out of me? Even hotter. 

So these toys can do that for you too. Considering they have those nifty tubes. Like the feeling of being filled? Then go for it. And yes, you still have to send me a video.

All in all though? I think these toys have a delightfully long list of uses. From fantasy role-playing, to using them as base sex toys, to using them as part of your regular sexual shenanigans. So many options… I can’t wait till we get some more goodies from them.


Hello little masochist. A little bit of pain on a Wednesday night…

Wednesday night was an interesting night for me.

In a myriad of ways.

We had a gathering, at the Sydney Rope Dojo space for a friend who is going back to America yet again.

Said friend and I had a date a while ago to get together and have a bit of a pain session. However after meeting Cern and the fact that I haven’t been able to stop bleeding has meant that I’ve had to put it off with him, which was a bit disappointing for us both.

On the bright side though he did approach me at said party and said that he wanted to use the dragon tail on my breasts.

What’s a dragon tail? Hmm. This is what it is… It’s pretty much a strip of cut & rolled leather. That bites so nicely when flicked just right.

And me being me, jumped at the chance and nodded my head enthusiastically at him. Yes, please!

So after a while I wondered to the back room and he saw me and wondered over with his leather toy of choice. I grinned and bent over, tipping my head back exposing my boobs. I grabbed a tit in each hand and held them up so that he had a platform to aim at.

The first few times he hit home. I swore. The next 10 hits landed in a variety of areas, from my nipples which caused a reaction of ouch!!! that stung so badly, especially after having my nipples chewed on all week, they were already tender so when I copped a flick to the nipple my eyes watered. I may have done a wee bit of my ouchy dance and taken a few more hits to my nipples before I ran away to take a breather. Those nipple hits were killing me.

I ran back sheepishly. This is why people tie me down. I run away when the pain gets too great and will come back to position eventually. Some find this endearing. Other’s just want to beat the hell out of me without having to chase me down. However he smirked as I walked back into the room and again assumed position. This time I pulled my breasts out of my shirt and bra and used my fingers to cover my nipples so that any hits landed on them instead of my nipples.

Before long he cracked a good one on my finger and I nearly cried. And then said maybe I’ll move over into the light a bit instead of staying in the darkest area of the room. His aim improved drastically once we moved into the light and I didn’t dance, run or jiggle at all but stayed put and enjoyed every single hit that landed. Some had me sucking in my breath quickly, others had me moaning as I exhaled. Oh pain, how I’d missed you.

Before long my breasts were starting to look a bit red and weepy and we stopped. It wasn’t the longest scene in the history of play that I’d ever done however it did open the door to my remembering how much I do love the sweet pain of it all.

I think what I love more is that with the pain comes an act of suffering that most don’t understand. The art of actually not being tied down, or chained up and still holding position. Mentally it’s so hard because every nerve cell in my body is screaming at me to run from the pain. Yet the mental challenge is staying. He told me to stay, so I stayed.


I know I’ve written about the art of suffering before, or maybe I’ve touched upon it for how it relates back to my submission. But I think that’s another post in and of its own.

For now, the draw was for me was willingly staying put, even when this evil man was doing horrible things to my breasts and not running away. Plus after a while the burning pain started to radiate through my entire body and the sharp bites from the edge of the dragon’s tail didn’t make me flinch anymore… instead I moaned and wanted to lean into the hits. To offer more, expose more, give more…

However in a roomful of people I only offer so much. That type of exposure I tend to do in private, especially in a pain play situation. So I held off, I pulled back and after giving him a happy grin and nod, he held off too.

15 minutes of play. Red bleeding, weeping breasts of pain and delicious agony.

I have a scab on my cleavage from where the wounds are starting to heal. I can’t stop touching and running my hands over my welts and blood blisters. I haven’t had such pretty marks in a very very long time and I’m delighting in them.

Cern seemed to find this all very interesting and maybe even bizarre. I don’t think he’s fucked many masochists. For someone who says he isn’t into pain, he’s coming around to enjoying watching me suffer for him though. He says it’s because of how much I enjoy what he does to me, so for him it’s about pleasuring me and not about causing me pain. The causing me pain is a side effect of watching me enjoy said pain. Which is an interesting way of looking at it to be honest.

For me, my sadism is partly about making sure that my bottom is suffering for me but sometimes it’s not about them and it’s about me wanting to hurt them how I want to hurt them and them taking it, breathing through it, sweating through it, crying through it and still meeting my eyes after the pain recedes to show me that they are with me, they are ok, they want more…

Isn’t it funny how different people process things differently? My sadistic side to his… I find it endlessly fascinating.

And he’s found spots on my arse that hurt. Like really really fucking hurt. My sitting down now requires great concentration from me because my arse bones are right in the two spots that he squeezes like he’s squeezing lemons. No bruising but he pinches the muscle to the point that I’m squealing and nearly crying from the pain of it all. Little does he know that if he told me to stop moving I’d hold still so he didn’t have to fight me while I tried to run away. But I’m not giving him that nugget yet… although if he reads this I’m done for.

I also got offered to have a friend of mine hurt me when I wanted it, which is nice because I was starting to run low on sadists and he would be perfect. Especially since he gets that it’s not a sexual thing for me, but purely the pain power exchange. So I’ve been seriously considering his offer.

Plus I have a date with Daddy in a few weeks, although that one is causing me some trepidation. However I think I just need to talk to him about the few anxiety causing issues I have and we should be set to go. We haven’t played in well over 4 years, so this reunion is going to be a whopper. In some ways I can’t wait. I know he can’t, he keeps sending me texts saying how much he misses my tears that I cry for him and that he can’t wait to shove my face into a pillow while he hurts me so that I get smothered in my own tears. The man knows how to work me up, that’s for sure. So the whole meeting has me on edge. Nerves because it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this and anxiety because he’s changing the boundaries that we’ve played in for the last 10 years.

You know that saying? When it rains it pours? I’m feeling a bit like that at the moment.

WARNING: Clicking the more link here will bring up some pictures of my ouchies from Wednesday night and earlier from Cern. If you don’t like seeing welted tits, don’t look.

Boobs of deliciousness under here, click it, you know you want to!


Sex and vulnerability – missing pieces.

I’ve had some interesting conversations of late with someone whose input I’ve come to love for the differences in our perspectives and the way we approach things. Some experience, some insight and a different perspective have brought into clarification something that I had been missing.

The new FWB, he needs a name. Let’s call him Cernunnos after the horned god.

During our very long and very very extensive coupling a few days ago I’ve gone over and replaying a lot of things that happened. Which is a good thing, a lot of what happened was fantastic and wonderful and joyful and orgasmic in so many many ways.

But during all this, Cernunnos decided that during our last love-making of the night, he would rock me steady and sure with long slow strokes. As he did this, with my head buried in his neck and shoulder and his head buried in my neck was that for every orgasm I had in this position, I felt a layer peel off me exposing something I haven’t purposefully exposed before. For every roll of our hips I felt a bit of my armour shatter and crumble. Somehow this great big beast of a man was exposing parts of myself I wasn’t aware that I hadn’t been exposing before. If he’d kept going I was pretty sure I’d have cried. And this, from the woman who used to scoff at all those women in films that cried during sex because it was so emotional.

Something clicked in that moment. I was grateful we didn’t keep that pace up and going for longer than we did. I wasn’t and still am not sure I’m ready to face that kind of vulnerability with just a FWB.

But what does this all mean? 

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Do I have to? Realisations in dating

For a long time I’ve wondered why I’ve thrown up walls and excuses for men and women that message me who seem suitable to date.

The other night I had an epiphany from talking a lot with another blogger friend in email has helped me come to some realisations myself.

I’m not ready to date.

I’m not ready to even contemplate anything romantic or heart warming. I’m still in a pretty horrible place mentally, I don’t have the energy to pursue anything because believe me I think there’s some that might be a lot of fun if I did pursue, but I can’t seem to. I think this relates back to the post I wrote about mental health and my health. The fact that after my ex broke up with earlier this year I’ve fallen into a downward spiral of distancing myself from a lot of my friends because that’s what depression does. I’ve isolated myself and I’m clawing my way back out slowly, but this will take time.

So instead of pushing myself to date, I put the brakes on it. It’s not fair on anyone I date. The fact that I wouldn’t be able to wholly commit coupled with the fact that I don’t plan on staying in Australia for more than another 4 years means dating and committing to someone is out of the question.

Because that decision is actually fair on me and it’s fair on a person that I might meet who wants more.

What I did at this point was change my profile to say I’m looking for a FWB arrangement, hence my previous post, to indicate that I would be open to men & women approaching me in regards to this type of arrangement. I was hoping that it would open the world up to those guys & gals that are in relationships so they don’t need me to invest but are happy to see me once or twice a week and be friends outside of that.

What’s wrong with this picture you say?

Well here’s the thing. Usually I am very free in my love and loving. Where, who and what the person in question has done previously wouldn’t be an issue. So this has then made me question why, after years and years of free loving with friends, with acquaintances and with relative strangers have I now made the jump to feeling a bit grossed out by the share factor.

This isn’t the share factor with anyone else on a greater scale – with this I still have no issue, this is the share factor within the Sydney Kink Community.

What’s changed that’s made me not want to explore people sexually that have gotten around a bit? Partly it’s to do with 60% of the Sydney Kink Community I think is full of twatburgers. People and their twue wayisms that are blind to anything outside of how they think this lifestyle should be led. People who think that because you don’t do things their way that your kink is somehow less than what they do. People who are brash, sexist, misogynistic and downright assholes.

I’ve dabbled in this lifestyle and within the community for well over 10 years. I’ve given most of those years performing at Hellfire on stage with my kinky family. The other years I did performances at Inquisition, at various kink nights, at Penrith Panthers once too. I’ve been to Darwin to perform at their Sexxxpo. We’ve been to New Zealand to perform at their annual Kink even in Christchurch. We’ve been to Melbourne to perform at the re-opening of Hellfire Melbourne. I’ve been with people who are long gone that I’ve seen again and haven’t seen again. I used to be part of a house where we opened it up once a month and had people over who used our dungeon, our furniture, our space to drink, eat, make merry… I’ve witnessed kinky marriages, court cases and hate rampages. I’ve had stalkers, falling out with friends, and my own many mistakes over the years.

How did I get to where I am now? How have I changed? Why did I change?

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A friend-three-some? A pleasant blast from the past…

It’s been one of those weeks where I’ve been pretty sick and some guy messaged me on OKC.

He didn’t objectify me or make me want to stab him repeatedly in the eyeball with a rusty spoon. He looked vaguely familiar from his pictures and I couldn’t place him, I thought he looked like someone my old roomie had the hots for but I couldn’t be sure because I didn’t really spend that much time staring at his face – or any other part of his body when he used to come over. We spend time chatting outside while we smoked together and then I’d head in and do my thing and they’d do theirs.

So anyway, back to the story. This guy messages me. He’s smart, articulate and engaging. I’m sick, curious and vaguely interested if only because he’s not going for the kill and sexualising everything. So I message him back and give him a pat on the back for not being a jerk-off with the first few emails backwards and forwards.

Fast forward to today, I’m feeling a wee bit more human, my ovaries still feel like they are trying to chew their way out of my body but I’m functioning to a degree.

We go from OKC to Kik and he sends me a picture of himself cuddling with a cat. Said cat and him look even more familiar. I put it off to someone I must have a passing acquaintance with.

Then he asks me if I ever lived where I used to live a few suburbs away from where I am now. And like a jigsaw, all the puzzle pieces fit into place and I died laughing. No really, I did.

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No, I am not your object.

This post is brought to you my ranty mcrant pants. And the fact that men would rather treat me as a piece of meat than having a normal conversation.

More and more I’m starting to get annoyed with OKC.

It’s pretty easy to tell you why too. Because the men that message me seem to think that they are doing me a huge favour by telling me how awesome my tits are.

Or how beautiful my smile, if only it was giving them a blow job.

What the ever-loving fuck people?

Is this just me?

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Sex: The awkward spreadsheets

Here I was reading my paper and enjoying my soup when I came across this article – it’s about a spreadsheet that a husband made of all the times his wife said no to sex with the excuses written next to them.

Which got me thinking.

If this was me I’d be mortified and really pissed off, but then on the other hand I’m not known for saying no for the right people.

What it makes me wonder is why he would make a spreadsheet in the first place?

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The ultimate question: Will you be my everything?

I don’t know about you guys, but being someone’s everything is a lot of pressure that I refuse to take responsibility for.

You see, I don’t believe you can be everything to another person.

We all have our different things that keep us going. We like different things, we read different things, we share certain areas of our lives with people and we delight in learning about things that we never experienced before.

At least I do.

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Reformed lesbianism? Is that even a *thing*?!

Reformed what?

I’ve written before about monosexism & my bisexuality.

As mentioned in that post, I was a lesbian before I became bisexual. I’m not going to go into that again with this post. What I did want to talk about was my transition. My journey. My experience.

And my love of women. And men. And possibly some of my relationship epiphanies.

It started young you know, I was kissing girls behind the school toilets when I was 7.

We started experimenting with more than just kissing in the long grass at primary school, possibly about age 10.

I got very familiar with vagina’s during this experimentation period. Don’t get me wrong, they were very confusing, yet endlessly fascinating to me. Look at that YUMMYNESS!!!!!

Sure I experimented with girls, but I didn’t really have a girlfriend until my late 20’s. Like a proper girlfriend. Move in together and be monogamous kind.

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What do you mean, no?

The other night on my epic 10 hour drive from Lismore back to Sydney Loki kept me company on the phone. Well. If you call his sick whining and my baiting him a conversation. I do, I was getting much enjoyment out of it.

Although I will admit that the distance thing is a real kicker when he’s actually sick and I can’t nurse him… yes I have the right outfit for this too.

During our laughing, arguing and just generally being shits to each other we touched upon a topic that I think surprised him a bit. At least he sounded surprised.

Orgasm denial.

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