It’s Not Goodbye Uncruel World

If something goes terribly wrong and anyone reads about a girl from South Jersey dying of asphyxiation by means of a TheraBand, a resistance band used for strengthening, please get the message to her family that it was not an intentional self-inflicted suicide. It was self-inflicted, but of the sexual variety. It smells of latex and doctors’ offices and working on walking straight again so I can get fucked until I can’t walk straight again.

They won’t be terribly surprised, they already know I’m fucked up and not getting fucked.

note: don’t take me too seriously, ever. I certainly don’t. No leather’s or lace’s were harmed in the writing of this post.

truthfully, I did just try it out in my mouth as a bit; but even if I were putting it around my neck, I’m way too tired to tie it too tight right now. We’re just going to cuddle, she lied to herself.

Until my next fucked up ramble…


Pussy Privileges

I have my reservations about writing something here, even admitting it at all. It is a bit embarrassing and I also refrain from ever openly saying something that reflects negatively upon another, especially someone I care for and respect very much. As I grow older, though, I realize more and more – there are moments we really need to vent about – that you can disagree with someone you love very much, and that doesn’t mean you love them any less. My reason though, for bringing up a specific incident is to make a larger point about a lot of things that have been on my mind lately and I’d like to get off of my beautiful heaving chest.

Here goes nothing:
I was with a significant other and we were going through some (really) rough times. At one point in an attempt to alleviate some of our tension, and because I wanted to and wasn’t going to let my pride get in the way, I began to touch his thigh in bed after a few days of barely speaking or being at one another when we were. He told me that I had lost my cock privileges. Yes, you read that right. This wasn’t a sexual play scene, this was not a dynamic of our kink, he legitimately told me that I had lost my cock privileges and leg actually, as well, when I clarified that his dick was clearly not halfway down the distal portion of his thigh – anatomically speaking, that would be pretty questionable.

Now, I understand that there are times when you are so frustrated or hurt by someone that you cannot stand to be touched. This was not the case, this was someone’s recognition of having some unhealthy hold over me. The fact that I ever even continued to desire this person, from that point on, still makes me question myself to this day – my intelligence and self-awareness blinded by that silly thing we label love. But I do know why I still desired him and why we stayed together for almost another year following that incident and for the same reason I know he will lie awake in bed at night, maybe tonight or 5 years from now and think what the fuck did I do, letting that girl go, and will still think of me when he’s inside someone else; because I knew who he was and not only did I accept him for it, but I loved him all the more for it. I put him on a goddamned pedestal and therein lies my first problem. I still love this man, I always will. I love what he taught me, about life and about myself. I love who he helped me become. I love the way he opened my mind and my heart. And even today, when I learned something he was the first person I wanted to tell – and I did. And I know why he let me go now and I’m glad that he did. There’s no question in my mind whether he misses me; but I realized at some point that more than missing him, I missed myself.

But this post is not about him and it’s not about some sappy love story. This is about desire and relationship dynamics and possession and worship.

You will fucking worship me. This is not meant in the manner of a dominant mistress or as some high maintenance broad you met on the street, this is me – you will worship me. You know why? Because I will worship you. I will not need you in my life, but I will want you in it and be better for it; and that fact and that feeling will be mutual. I will own you. This term has come up in (more than one) conversation recently. After sending someone a photo over his lunch break that expressed my desire for him, his response was that he owned me. This was not someone who knew of much of my kink or uses the term the way some might proclaim in this scene/site. It was his natural response and it naturally turned me the fuck on; and truth is, part of him does own part of me. Someone else commented on me owning the ability to instruct him how and when he could cum. This was fan-fucking-tastic, but this still isn’t the point. I will fucking own you. And not in that tell me where you’re going and who you’re with sort of way. And not in that in that manipulative controlling sort of way either. And not in that Instagram me a photo of what you had for lunch to make my life more fulfilling sort of way. I will fucking own you the same way you will own me, by sheer desire. I will wear you down in a way that will only make you want it more. If you are mine and I am yours, my body is yours. I know you will treat it with the utmost respect and appreciate the opportunity to see it, to touch it, to feel it against yours. My mouth, my pussy, my ass is yours to do with as you please and I know you will please me. I will do anything and everything to please you, because it pleases me. This is not my fetish, this is not some freaky fucked up kink. This is me and this is what you get when you get me. If you do not desire me the same way I desire you, in a way that makes my ribs sore from masturbating too much when you are not nearby – it is utterly fucking pointless and disappointing. I’ve been there, done that, and gotten way too many t-shirts from that convenient booty call I kept around for a couple years and felt disgusted with myself every time we were done. He did know how to touch me, sometimes, and was a good friend; so that wasn’t all in vain. But since then – After falling in love, you see the world a little differently. I cannot go back to that meaningless sex. And I don’t mean that I need a promise or a title or even necessarily a tomorrow, I just want it to mean something – in the moment and all the moments afterwards when I’ll be masturbating to the memories. I want to want you with my entire mind and my body and I will settle for nothing less. I’m not sure if being with one person forever is natural or what I want forever, but you know what is really fucking fun – is desiring someone so badly that you only want that one person and when that is reciprocated. I want to fall in love every single day with a moment or a feeling or an image. I want to fall in love every day with the way you make me feel and I want to make you feel like I’m someone worth falling in love with. And I hate to use the love word, mixing up sex and romance and feelings. As I told a friend recently, the “F” word used to scare me – feelings, bleck. Admittedly though, I’m human. And guess what?!? I have feelings, I have them every day – every minute of every day — and so do you. You will feel motivated, you will feel hungry, you will feel less than productive for being so distracted with desire all day, you will feel the need to be inside me. And the “R” word… Rape. Kidding. Silly goose, I had to kid about rape – that’s always a riot. Relationships, we all have them. As I also commented on, to a friend of mine – you have a relationship with the brush you paint with, understanding how it moves and relates to the canvas and what you want to communicate and project and what you will it to do. We have them all day, every day. I will rape you with my thoughts, images, desires. Kids, really though – real rape is no joke. Fucking rape me in the realest, rawest of ways – remind me how human I am, make my heart pound, and my cheeks blush, and my pussy wet. Make my mouth hurt – because I’m smiling and because I can’t stop cumming. My family always tells me when my dimple is out I’m up to something, make me want to be up to something. I want to make you uncomfortable and comfortable, as you will me.

Someone told me recently he wanted to know what turned me on, specifically. I told him I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him, then I told him that I was only willing to tell him because I knew he already knew how to turn me on (without my help)…so I sent him a 6 page letter. The conclusion was this, I don’t want false flattery or forever – I just want a moment in which I’d want to feel forever. I want that feeling that you don’t want to end. I want to cum so hard, but I want to not cum yet because the anticipation is almost as good. I want to explore and I want to learn and if someone can make it better together than alone, then I want to share that moment with that someone. I want us to be so satisfied that we will never be satisfied. I want someone honest and respectful enough to recognize we both know that I’m not the only girl in the world, but when I’m with you that I’m the only one that matters; and that doesn’t do this to prove anything to me, but because he can’t help himself but to behave any other way. I’m into orgasm control and denial and a tease, but we will never control one another, we will never deny one another, we will never offer or take something we cannot give of ourselves. I will fucking own you. I will never be denied your dick. You will consider my pussy a privilege and love it as much I love it. You will give my mind as much attention as my pussy, because you know they are both the best fuck you will ever get. And I make no claims to be better than anyone else, though I kind of can be…I just know I will be better with you and you with me. I am not making claims to be better in bed or more attractive than anyone else, I just know we will be better in bed together, and we would be so fucking attractive together and that in that moment with me you will want to feel like that forever, even if your forever isn’t with me. And you will never, ever, take for granted the privilege or the opportunity for that moment with me; and I will give myself to you, without giving up myself. And I will know what makes you tick and I will always want to know more and I will make your heart pound and I will be your fucking whore.

“I had to go through hell to prove I’m not insane, had to meet the devil just to know his name.” Ella Henderson

Oh, one more thing I meant to mention:
If you can’t find the time to fuck me, I can’t find a reason to let you.



wet dreams

I am having the least sex of my life (see: none) & bed more tossed than ever; maybe it’s all the crazy-kinky dreams I’ve been having or from fucking myself. I like it a little rough sometimes, even solo. Although the last like 26x I’ve gotten off (so like the 48 hours) have taken place in the shower and my car, so that’s not really a good excuse for why the bed is about to come off the frame and pillows are on the floor.


I wonder:
Those little fairies (in tights, of course) that come & steal one sock from the dryer — are there kinky versions, that wear fishnets and a strap-on or something, that come and steal one thigh-high right after you set it down? In the past, if pantyhose were damaged in any way, we would have saved some to utilize for a little light bondage later; but right now I’ve only got four limbs and a mouth, one me, about 7 individual non-matching thigh-highs within reach, and two really cold thighs.

okay, I’m being a little melodramatic with that last part. I’m wearing some leggings, but I’m still cold. I guess that’s where the blanket tossed across the room off the bed during those Fight Sex Club scenes in my dreams would be useful.

sleep writing.

one sheep, two sheep. tie her up and gag her, so she doesn’t make a peep.

“They can all just kiss off into the air.” – The National




I may be attracted to a man with killer legs in some leotards and Leggs. I might like your photo if you’re an attractive man that would make a sexy little slut I can peg. A man with a great ass and some high heels might get in the bedroom and even get it in the ass; but that is as far as forcedfem will get you with me.

You will sooner see my tits than my heart & I’ve been offered a great deal for both & you’ll likely see neither. Like it or not, because even pain can be pleasurable, both can and will be felt in my company and/or interactions. So while I hesitate to open my heart as easily as I open my legs, neither of which has happened in awhile – here are a few things that might even get me to open something else up to you, my arms.

I like curves and I like angles like I like art. I want to see them, I want to touch them, and I want to feel them against my own. I like the signs & symptoms of sexual attraction. I like going fast & taking it slow. I am attracted to the same attributes in women as I am in men – soft when it suits and hard when being handled, a quiet confidence, intelligence, curiosity, an open outlook, and a bit of naivete in every experience.

But for someone who is all about blurred lines & breaking boundaries, here’s where I can be a real fucking bitch: I know myself better than you ever will. Don’t tell me how I should feel, react, or express myself. I know my body & love my body more than you ever will, but I will still let you try. If you don’t have or care to take the time to learn what stimulates me, my mind or body, I don’t have or care to give you the time. I know that nothing is ever one-sided, but recognize that sometimes we all still feel or act in a way that is in accordance with only one self. I will entertain every side to a story & may even entertain your desires, but that does that mean that I agree with or will give in to yours.

I hesitate to expose myself so easily, but here are a few freebies.

Things that make my knees weak besides blow jobs and breaking one:

men who know how to rig, for boating & not just BDSM
men who smell like they’ve been working under a car
men with clean, cut fingernails
men who look good with & without facial hair
men who look good with & without glasses
men who care what they look like, but not enough to let it take up too much time
men who like when I get dolled-up, but appreciate me not being a girl that needs to
men who know anger or jealousy do not make you tough, nor does lack of it
men interested in predatory habits of wildlife, not having predatory habits & a wild life
men who are driven, but not so seriously that they can’t miss a day of work for sex
men who will tell me that my ass looks big in that dress, but it’s because my ass is big
men who love that my ass looks big in that dress or those leggings
men who will appreciate but not disrespect when my ass looks big in those leggings
men who will not love me less for not wearing that outfit that makes my ass look great
men who are honest and admit that they like my ass the way it is or at any size
men who are actually honest enough and admit they won’t really like my ass at any size
men who admit to checking out other girls’ asses & will point a great one out to me
men who don’t use false flattery, telling me I have the greatest something
men who are genuine & treat you like their favorite something
men who recognize they have different faces for different places, but none are untrue
men who let me see some of their other sides & see the others sides of me
men who know fake it ’til you make it may work at work, but won’t work with me
men who accept you for who you are, but also know what you can be
men who make you feel like your best self, but still make you want to be so much more
men that don’t make you feel like you need them, but you want them
men who can bring out the best and the worst in you, but that doesn’t mean they do
men who will make you feel comfortable & take you out of your comfort zones
men that build you up in a way that you never need them to build yourself up
men who are happy without you, but happier with you
men who make you better for knowing them

What began as a compilation of attractive qualities in a mate, became more relative to life and applicable to any situation or individual – not just limited to a date.

“How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself.” Anais Nin

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.” Anaïs Nin

My Most Perverted Fetish Is…

My (First) Love:

My partner, an individual I learned and explored with. We enlightened one another, experienced with each other, and made discoveries about ourselves. I was introduced to fabrics and function, both for practical purposes & to stimulate the senses. I became more aware of visceral emotion and expression. I became in tune with listening for the sounds of sexual relevance. With this person, I fantasized about and was involved in some of the most perverse/kinky interactions I can imagine – those of the completely vanilla variety. My mind, body, and physiology responded in ways that I can only describe as human. I was vulnerable by seeing the vulnerability in another. I was exposed after seeing another exposed.

My partner’s presence and also absence forced me to look within myself for answers to questions I didn’t know I had and to explore the world outside myself only to see that I will never have all the answers and that there will always be more questions.

I will always have a fetish for my first love, and for what I learned with that love – it has shaped me, raped me, taught me, teased me, turned me on, and pleased me.

More than anything, I will always love learning; and I will always love the partner that I have learned so much with and so much from, if even without.

I will always be turned-on by what I’ve been taught.

Everything I have learned, all the experiences I have had are a part of me and framework for any fetish I have now or in the future.

Take me as I am and I will extend the same courtesy to you.



I was never that girl that imagined a man on bended knee, nor saw myself as half of ‘we’.
Upon inquiry he told me more.
My heart soon his whore.
Only he was a she, ever so beautiful, looking up and blowing me.
My pulse was in a constant race.
The contradiction so sexy, of leather and lace.
(N)ever again, will I be that girl.
Pray for me; I do for him.
Feelings fleeting, empty meetings, and roller coaster rides.
The only one I’m prepared to take, is for and on his lovely face.


This Is Not My Beautiful Wife

What I can’t seem to wrap my mind around is the lack of understanding.

How can somebody so open-minded be so damned closed-minded?

So how does a cross-dresser cross the line? Only when your heart is on it.

To be continued…

edited since initial posting (09/2013) – white thigh-highs, fishnets, ripped jeans, blah blah