Fucking Twitter. A series of Tweets with PantheraPardus bounced me out of bed so that I could try to explain to myself why fucked up people turn me on.

The tie...in that state of rakish dishabille...yeah.

  

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

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Sugarbutch Star: Maze – The Girl in the Red Dress
“She’s the kind of girl who brings out the worst in me.”

treat or … fuck
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A Life Exposed and Amplified
“We were breaking the rules and being dirty.”

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Sugar Bank

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Break On Through
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lustlustlust
Mexican Girlfriend
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Mistaken Identity
Unblemished

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Is Fantasizing Wrong?
Is Sex Without Oral a Dealbreaker? You Decide.
Lasting Longer in Bed

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Georgia Jones wants to go for a ride
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HNT! (One more cherry, popped.)
Kamila – The Restoration
More from the knee socks series
PSA: Breast Cancer Awareness
Seductor

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A New Twist on an Anal Sex Toy
On Tuesday, Vote for Equality

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-3 Days
Bad Girl
The big dodge
Blind date: Impressions of a Dom
Dirty Boy
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Do you want to cum? How bad?
Jake gets Punished in Spanking Movie
Kneeling In Style
Long Night in Thee Cow Shed
Marked: An Open Letter
Mistress by Proxy, part 2 : the slut
The New Bath Brush
Pimping him out
Pondering Piercings
Quickie

Sex Humour
Friday Poem: Achy Achy Cunt

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
HNT-Time
Hubby’s Halloween Hit. Confession #167
The Space Between
Two women, two stories

If you are a self-identified kinky person, you may have heard of “Top’s Disease”: the dominant who shows off in scenes, is riddled with self-importance bordering on clinical monomania may fall into the category of victim of  “Top’s Disease.” This is the idea that a dominant or top has a terminal kink-centric narcissism. Believing their own hype.

Showing off flashy technique, being a “One True Way” elitist, making seemingly extravagant demands of partners or even bystanders, using submissives in a way that seems like a less than profound spiritual manner may well see you relegated to a toppy Bardo, in a purgatory of sorts.

Nobody like a show-off, after all.

Questioning someone’s motives, dominance, submission, etc because of what you are capable of observing about their play style is a slippery slope.

For example.

I was once ordered, before a scene, not to make a sound. Went to the dungeon, did a pretty heavy flogging then whipping scene, through which I remained completely silent.

Those who were used to hearing me shriek, kick, scream and speak in tongues (Seriously. Ask anyone who has seen me get seriously fucked up.) immediately assumed something was wrong, and asked the DM to intervene. Thank the gods she said, “You people complain when they scream too loud, now you want me to tell a bottom that they are BEING TOO QUIET? I’ll pass.”

Dominance is different things to different people. Perhaps showing off their mastery of flogging is what the dominant wanted to do. Isn’t it their right to do so?

As to egoism in a dominant, I ask ya: who DOESN’T want a dominant with a (healthy) ego? If you aren’t AT LEAST egotistical enough to assume control of me, you are not taping in to my submissive core.

Just because your particular style of “connected” doesn’t look like someone else’s is no reason to scorn it, them, or their approach.

I actually like a healthy ego in a dominant. I love an edge of arrogance, because it takes that for me to really believe you can outdo me.

If you don’t want to see a scene that has spectacular aspects, to it, fine. But some of the most breathtaking scenes I have seen have involved play that was quite obviously extensively elaborate, and often was a gift to those watching, a “Thank you!” for lending their energy and attention.

Why throw their gift back in their face by scoffing at their style of playing?

Unless this person is unsafe, and the submissive is in physical or emotional danger, I don’t get the dismissiveness of a more theatrical level of play.

I mean, we CALL IT A PLAY PARTY. Refer to it as play. Shit, I do theatrically based plays too. And if people weren’t watching, clapping, feeling something, getting something back from my performance, I’d feel like shit. And if I didn’t bow at the end, you’d feel cheated.

You CAN be in tune with the audience and in tune with your “co-star” or “supporting actor” or even “prop” at the same time. Any actor worth their salt does it any time they step on stage.

And it ain’t a far cry away from playing.

I wouldn’t trade anything for the scene where the top I was playing with asked people from the audience watching what he should do to me, having them laugh, then be shocked when he went even farther, and me cursing the 12 generations of their families and all of their pets for being such assholes. Or how about someone helping to “recapture” me when I slipped from some bondage? Or a top actually stopping to explain something about his toys to another top, giving me the opportunity to quip, as thought bored while suspended upside down:

“Hey, if you’re busy, can I go have a smoke?”?

Yeah, I can be a smart ass. That is when I get slapped around. And that ain’t bad neither.

A crippling case of “Top’s Disease” is not becoming. But a nice healthy dose of well-earned ego, mastery and a scoop of arrogance topped with the cherry of entitlement…whew. Yes, please!

His chin tilts and his eyes drift in a particular way when he isn’t paying attention to what I have to say anymore. I’m irritated but the lazy meandering of his gaze is deceptive. I know better than to think he isn’t paying attention. He is. He is, even as I earnestly try to explain my hatred of Fox News, nodding and pushing me off his lap as I slide to the floor only to be grabbed by the arm pulled around to face him on the couch. My protests about having to watch O’Reilly are effectively muted by a flick of his hands at his belt and his cock, already half hard as he pulls my face towards it left hand stroking it even harder right hand under my chin, now holding open my lips and teeth and sliding over my tongue his eyes slitted and his voice a corduroy drawl “Hush, babygirl…come on …suck your Daddy’s cock for a second…be a good girl…” and I am I’m a good girl because that pushes a deep seated reflex that includes opening my mouth obediently, blinking upwards as he hisses, inhales. (more…)

The Folsom Street fair rules. I have attended annually since 1997. This year, I stopped at the midpoint of the fair by a large gray cube constructed of draped fabric. I was bemused by the fact it was covered with poster-sized portraits of people in Fetish garb and assorted drag. I was gestured over by a dude who asked if I was interested in being photographed for a potential photo project. I thought, sure, yeah I stepped into the line, filled out a release, and waited to face the artist.

As it turned out, the man behind the curtain was Howard Schatz. He is kind of a big deal photographic artist. He has amazing books in print. He’s got a bunch of photos from Folsom Fairs past and is in the midst of an ongoing project that may well include me!!

Last week, I received an e-mail from one of his assistants with a proof from the shots he took of me in that portable booth, and they asked if I would answer a few questions. Yes, of course. I am hardly one to demur if an artist wants to know about me.

Well fucking color me flabber-fucking-gasted when, after replying to the questions off of the top of my head, I get a message back that Mr. Schatz was “very intrigued” by my responses and might want to chat briefly with me.

!!!!!!!!

Holy shi — (Yeah, that is me with nothing to say, totally blown away.)

— I mean, this guy’s met and worked with real life ….you know..famous people!!!

Anyway, here is one of the pictures he sent to me.

(C)2008, Howard Schatz

And here is what I said in response to his questions… hope I do wind up chatting with him! If not, wow, an honor to be a part of his oeuvre.

Thank-you for coming to our outdoor studio at The Folsom Street Fair and for allowing us to make this image. We are preparing a book on The Fair. We need text, context, content, to make the book rich, interesting, worth reading, (over and above the photos). Would you please help us by sending us your responses to these questions? WHEN WE RECEIVE YOUR RESPONSES WE WILL SEND YOU A SECOND IMAGE. If you don’t want your name identified in the book, just let us know that.

1. Why do go to The Folsom Street Fair?

I’m a long-standing member of the BDSM and Leather Community. The Folsom Street Fair is a Family Reunion, a Carnival, A Freakshow, and Old Home Week, a dance, a celebration of our selves in all of our most real and most outlandish and most touching bared souls. I go because I can’t bear the thought of not going. I go because I can be “really real” me or “make believe pretend me”. I am always amused and aghast at how much closer those parts of me are than I think they are, and I carry that magic epiphany with me for the rest of the year.

2. What does your Folsom Street Fair persona say about you?

It says “Yes.” It says “Ask me!” It says “Look closer”

3. Does your FSF persona reflect the “real” you?

Absolutely. I am what I decide to be the moment I gather consciousness in the morning. Whether or not I choose to be in full getup, whether or not I decide to sport leather, I am, in my heart, a deeply wild energy gathered into human form. Whomever I am at Folsom reflects that.

4. What do you do for a living? How old are you?

Right now, I work for several adult-themed websites. My skill and ability as a writer, coupled with my knowledge of kink and of Leather community and BDSM issues landed me in a place where I can have all of those skills and make my “day job” closer to my avocation than merely an “occupation.”

I was born in 1969, on June 20th, in NY Hospital, NYC, NY.

5. How does the FSF role-playing fit into the rest of your life?

The FSF is less of a place to put on a role than it is a place to peel off the niceties of everyday life. I have more opportunities than many people when it comes to “Flying my Freak Flag,” but it is rare to have the freedom to do so in the street, in the sun, in the air, and without shame. My life is very much about finding my way and making it beautiful. Revealing my inside through the sacred and ancient act of donning ceremonial, special garb connects me to an older truth. And the truth is that we are both what we reveal and what we conceal.

6. Who are you, really?

I’m a curvy Perverted Negress, a writer, a showoff, unbelievably shy and very adept at hiding that from all but the most astute eyes. I am an actress, performer, BDSM and Leather Community educator, emotional flashpoint and violently passionate about that which moves me. I love cartoons and dumb jokes and Fellini movies and Star Wars and Star Trek. I also love floggings and submission and service and sweet potato pies. Mine are the best ever. I am a blogger (http://mollena.com) and I live life as it is handed to me with no adjustments, no chaser, and no limits to experience. And I am a nerd.

7. Anything else pertinent that you think those who will read the book will find interesting? Surprising, remarkable, really revealing and private secrets will make reading and seeing the book quite fantastic—-so please do help us let the world know the richness of human diversity.

My secret fantasies revolve around the loss of power, the ravishment of the body and the bending of the will. The idea of the politically-incorrect brutish man savagely taking what he wants from a resistant victim whose own will is subsumed by his lust and wickedly unfettered slavering needs is hot as hell to me. Nothing is more incandescent that purely lust-based transgression. As for me, give me a double helping. Being fully who you are seldom is pretty, tidy, neat and polite. Give me sloppy dirty feral gorgeousness any day. Give me joy that makes me laugh too loudly in restaurants and give me heartbreak that shatters my ego into quicksilver balls of mercurial pain across the floor. All of these things let me know I am loving, and living, true to who I am.

Anything else…? Peace

~Mollena

The folks of the Arizona Power Exchange group invited me, a long while back, to teach a class for them.

That class is this weekend.

Please keep in mind, I am used to controversy. I am, after all, one of the very VERY few people in the BDSM / Leather Community openly discussing and teaching about Kinky play that involves, explores and embraces the utilization of race and cultural identity within a BDSM context. Teaching about “Race Play” isn’t a mainstream Kink lifestyle path. For reals.

For obvious reasons, that shit don’t fly for a lot of Kinksters. Understandably so. But the backlash I received when I first “outed” myself was so strong and carried so much emotional violence, I felt charged thereafter.

I felt charged, as a survivor of attacks against my integrity, my “Blackness”, my feminism, my very being.

I felt charged to stand back up after members of MY COMMUNITY, one I fought so hard to embrace, that some amongst my Leather Kin would reject me wholesale because they did not approve of an aspect of play I found difficult and intriguing.

I sure as hell did not spend years accepting that I WAS submissive to be slapped down by perverts for being “too fucked up.”

That is too much.

Today, I have a few rounds under my belt, I have taken my hits, and am sure I will take more.

But this morning it was a visceral shock to look at my upcoming itinerary, and to mentally prepare myself for the days I will spend in Arizona.

Arizona is a Red State. Very much so.

And not just a red state, but a red state that refused a bloody day off because it was attached to slain Civil Rights Leader, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

And so, here I go, in the stunned jubilant afterglow of a momentous occasion in the history of…of MANKIND, yo.

Walking into a room full of strangers, with my head held high.

Um…if I can manage it.

Walking into that room of what I assume will be mostly white faces, to talk about using our differences to fuel our spiritual and sexual lives.

Just. Wow.

My ancestor’s history in this country is not something I take lightly. On a very personal level, tapping into the collective consciousness of MY PEOPLE to investigate the past is a Big Fucking Deal.

Jai Ganesh!!

Lest I forget we don’t have a corner of suffering, only recently the folks in Arizona’s BDSM scene themselves have had a bit of a dust-up with regard to cultural issues.

Uniform fetishists know there are lines that are tough to cross. Wearing a Luftwaffe outfit might be hot for you, but slap a swastika (as appropriated from the Hindu iconography, BTW) is bound to REALLY alienate folks.

And their community is still resonating from that hit.

So, in comes the Black girl from the Ghettos of Harlem, now living in Sodom-By-The-Sea, to talk about why it is OK to tap into mankind’s darkest places, and somehow find redemption.

Is this for real? I am still shaking my head.

Can we really walk those lines without tumbling into an ideological abyss?

I’d like to quote the President Elect, Barack Hussein Obama here.

Yes, We Can.

"I'm Kinky. And I VOTE."

Today we all get to be the Dominants of Democracy.

Have you taken your swipe at the booty of America today?

Well, get cracking, people!

This is a Big One.

Do it, and do it right.

And hey, to my peeps in The NYC, and y’all keepin’ it real in Seattle: Get your groove on post-vote. Babeland Toys has free “Maverick Sleeves” and vibrating Babeland Silver Bullet for all voters!