Jul 182009

Shibaricon marked the first BDSM Convention for which I’d made multiple play-dates, all of which I initiated. I’ve spent the past year-and-a-half of so building up my kink résumé with many events, cons and classes: and all but a handful of them were out of state. I haven’t played much locally of late, and I have a very particular approach to letting people cane, slap, punch, whip, bind, beat and abuse me. Call me picky but the way I need to play, if I’m gonna fucking do it, requires people with a certain level of skill, compassion, emotional and physical attractiveness that is a rare fucking thing to find in mutuality.

As it happens, my travels have allowed me the privilege of meeting and mixing with kinksters from coast-to coast and, in my crazybrave mode, I managed to get up the nerve to actually ask for play-dates with several people I’d admired for varying lengths of time. Some I’d admired from afar for years, and some people I’d only recently met, but felt that easy bond of trust and friendship I think of as “Spiritual Family.” Shibaricon turned out to be stellar when it came to that type of connection, and I am still mulling how wonderfully the stars aligned to make that experience as unique as it was.

One of the high points, for me, was the opportunity to not only spend time with but also play with a woman I’ve admired since before I even had my first taste of real-time BDSM. That is Lolita Wolf. She is someone whose name I’d run across in my exhaustive year of pre-scene research: this being the soul-crunching time I spent before going real-time in the scene. Reading books, lurking on mailing lists, websites, et al. There aren’t many women I’d found whose opinions seemed straightforward, stripped of gloss, faux mystique and the veneer that made so many people talking about kink seem, to me, “personalities” rather than “people.” Lolita walked the walk, talked the talk and was so down to earth I felt like I knew her before I met her, several years later, at a local BDSM event.

Fast forward to today, when our social circles overlap and we now run into one another at kink events now and then. And finally I worked up the nerve to ask for a play-date. Admittedly, it was a bit of a roundabout “ask.” Over diner with friends at the Sex 2.0 Conference, there was a lighthearted discussion about Lolita’s”100 Diva’s” list, and how one became eligible, and I waved my hand in the air like a kid in the back row who really had to pee and asked if I might be a candidate to be one of the 100. Not that I consider myself a “Diva,” as I am far too dorky, but it was as good an “in” as any, right?

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May 092009

I’m taking a breather from the Sex 2.0 Con to chill in the hotel room I’m sharing with my buddy Sarah Dopp, who fucking rules.

I just conducted a session called “Flying your Freak Flag” and it was about being out and kinky and all and I will now confess something that has gotten me lots of strange looks over the years: until I get up in front of the room, I don’t know what I am going to say.

I like to relax by milkbagging my roomie's pillows. What?!?!?

I like to relax by milkbagging my roomie's pillows. What?!?!?

Now, I write descriptions for these things, and so I know what people are expecting to hear. In my head I think “OK. Give them what they expect, give them what they do NOT expect…and then surprise yourself.”

That’s all.

I feel like, for me, to much planning razes the seedlings that sprout in the room as people bring their own seeds and their own organic selves to the discussion. So, I leave it open. Thankfully, my God is a writer so I let him call the shots. I feel out what people are doing internally in the moment, and run with that. it is terrifying and liberating and I love it.

I overcame my usual post-class snail-reflex and stayed to talk to people. one participant told me that reading my class description was what motivated them to come to Sex 2.0 in the first place, and THAT was humbling. Also AWESOME was the energy I got from other WOC in the room when I talked about being out and being Black. Fucking A.

I don’t wanna overthink it. I do want to say thank you for the energy and the feedback and the livetweeting.

The whole think was a bowlful of spiritual manna from which I’ll be feeding myself through long wintry nightimes of the spirit when I wonder why the fuck I put myself through this shit.

You give me so very, very much.  That is why, and that is all, and that is enough.

May 012009

Days fly by and as the Steve Miller band once famously crooned time keeps on slipping slippin’ slippin’ into the future and I’ll be flying not quite like an eagle but indeed to the sea or rather from sea to shining sea as I jet from the Pacific to the Atlantic for an odd whirlwind of adventure.


My life is like chocolate flavored cottoncandy. In theory it SHOULD be awesome but in practice it is weird. And sticky.



Amorphophallus titanum

I returned from Beyond Leather and for better or for worse, a great deal of the amazing time I had there was (temporarily?)  eclipsed by a quicklimeslickpit of personalities and dramas and unknown histories that unfolded with all of the magnificence of an Amorphophallus titanum and still draws my brain like s jigsaw carwreck.

What was my role in this? What could I have done differently? How can I avoid it in the future?

And even below that which YOU, dear reader, knows, there is more. And even as I look back, and I continued to gather information, I felt better and better about my comportment. Patterns emerged and I was able to put myself into  a right-sized place in the drama. 

Which was a way smaller place than I initially thought.

PROFOUND THANKS to my friends Bailey, Andra, my new friend Melissa (who took me to dinner and made me feel so awesome) to Sarah Sloane and to the other women online and offline who listened, and were angels and spiritual warriors when I was floundering. Sisterhood IS powerful 

Even as I look ahead to the surety that I am indeed, a Hard-To-Place-Pound-Puppy, I reach some kind of peace with that.

For today, at least.

The other day I found myself watching the State of the Union / First 100 Days press conference.  And, OK, so I am a weirdo, but the sight of a brilliant intelligent savvy capable man fielding questions and representing this country after the drought of the past 8 years made me…hot.

Like “OMG fuck me now. No, NOW.” hot.

But alas, we’ve no one to play with. 

Or do we?

A few text messages later, pretty much to the effect of  “Hi, Long time no see sweetie, how are you doing, sorry about [Insert Personal Family Thing Here] SO…um…wanna fuck?” I got back a rather surprised but positive response. 

Which was awesome, since my last overture fell rather…flat.

Interestingly, I found myself in the bemusing position of having to throw up my hand when it came time to “talk things over”  

I really didn’t want to talk.

I wanted to be slapped around and fucked.

I think most guys expect that women don’t know how to fuck without attachment, or that inevitably, the attachment will entrap them. But, the secret is this…at this point, the reality is, despite my loneliness, I don’t know that I have room for a partner. The past 6 months have been a whirlwind of travel, and the next 9 months are slampacked with rehearsals for 2 different shows. Someone who wanted in to my life right now would have to have a supertanker of superlatives backing them up.

And…well…I stacked the deck by propositioning a former lover.

I feel good about that. It is pretty great to have someone I care about with whom to romp. 

And I also feel pretty good about handling the rather wonky and dicey rapprochement of a partner with ease and a deft hand.

Of course, blind estrus-crazed weasel lust helped glaze over the awkwardness.

Oh and you can find my friend lurking on Twitter as @LuckyLovewrench. Thanks to @saynine and My Webmaster for christening him in his new and Exalted position.

And, now…I’m off!

Hey, see ya on the East Coast, my friends.

Are you going to Sex 2.0?  I will be there!

And stay tuned. I am in the process of negotiating my very first anal fisting


Mar 162009

I’ll be at the Sex 2.0 Un-Conference in May, and I’ll be hosting a dee-lightful Salon entitled…

Delicious Deviance: On Flying Your Freak Flag.

Perhaps you are a full blown pervert, but shy about exposing yourself online? Or maybe you are a fledgling kinkster, and unsure of how to remain true to your self while bridging the gap between fantasy and realty, taking the online to the flesh?

There are so many vectors and venues available, it can be tricky, and it can be daunting. But have no fear, you aren’t alone!

This discussion will cover the pros and cons of being out, of maintaining a kinky personae online, on the common pitfalls of finding yourself moving from one world to the other, and how one can maintain one’s humor while maintaining your integrity as a feminist and as a pervert.

Join Mollena Williams, BDSM Educator, kinky blogger, and Executive Pervert as she discusses and explores online kink and real-time perversions, and offers tips, suggestions and a few amusing cautionary tales to get your gears turning on how to maintain your humor and your integrity as an individual as you cross from pixels to playtime!

Sex. I mean, what else do ya bloody need to KNOW?!
Sex. I mean, what else do ya bloody need to KNOW?!
I am stoked that my trip to NYC straddled the date for the SEX 2.0 Un-Conference. SO, I’ll be taking a Chinese Bus from NY down to DC…AGAIN…to talk to some people about being a pervert.

Because I love that shit!

And please, gimmie a shout out if you are attending. It looks like it is going to be the shizz.

Props to Viviane for turning me on to this event!