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Dacia on Derek and Romaine
October 31, 2005
11.02.05 - 8.15 pm
Dacia on Derek and Romaine
On Wednesday, November 2 at 8.15 EST I’ll be getting interviewed by Derek and Romaine (if you click the link you’ll be able to figure out how to listen free on the internet) about $pread magazine, smut, and my life in general.
Posted by Dacia at 04:34 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Attention hog
October 28, 2005
“Do you like the attention?” A number of people have asked me this recently, with regards to the ever-growing public nature of my (ahem) personal properties, my choice to model in the buff and show the pink.
Why do I feel, in some ways, ashamed to say: yes. I do.
Attention, and the desire for it, seems somehow needy and vapid to me. Maybe I am those things and I need to think about them, or I just need to embrace them and get on with it. I’ve always been trained to believe that it’s good to care a bit about how I look – but caring too much (obsessing over hair, makeup, clothes, weight) was downright silly and useless. Because, you know, the beauty on the inside is what really counts.
Though it wasn’t all about beauty, my high school struggles with food and weight ran counter to my training. I plastered on my goth makeup – white face, heavy black circles around my eyes – and was that about attention or beauty? In a deeper way I think it was more about my inability to reconcile how I felt on the inside and how I looked on the outside – I didn’t know how to deal with my body, what to think of its dangerous curves, the shape that got the attentions of many an inappropriate partner. It was easier to hide and get attention and rejection for the façade than get the same for my true self (whatever that is).
I think that last year, when I started modeling, I had a different and perhaps less healthy need for this attention than I do now. Though I was sexually and romantically involved with someone, I wasn’t getting the attention I wanted from him. No amount of asking or wanting could get him to say he thought I was pretty, sexy or hot (months later he confessed that he actually wasn’t that attracted to me). Writing it down, I see that maybe that was a really stupid reason to start taking my clothes off for money and for public consumption. It’s a reason I’ve only come to grips with very recently, not one I was aware of at the time, and its difficult to take that hard look.
I knew in this sort of objective, detached way, that I had the goods: 36D-28-36, tits and ass to die (or kill) for. But it was also sort of funny to me – I had a vague understanding that I was or could be considered hot, but I just didn’t get it, couldn’t see myself the way other people supposedly did, especially because I hadn’t heard any sort of confirmation from my lovers on this hotness thing. And by “lovers,” I don’t mean casual sex partners – their opinions, while often effusively positive, are sort of incidental. In using this word I mean ongoing sexual partners with whom I was romantically involved on a committed level.
It sort of frightens me to think to myself – and admit to you all – that my self-image is or has been so bound to my lovers’ opinions (or lack) of me and the way I look. Maybe, in some ways, I am not so different from the 18 year old girls who get into porn so they can get paid for people to think they’re hot. I try to set myself apart from that, because I’m somehow more enlightened or something – but the reality is that in some ways I’m just fucked up and insecure.
These days, I like the attention, but I’m still straining to understand it. And overthink it – c’mon overthinking is my thing. I am getting that hot and sexy attention I crave from a person who I think is hot and sexy (note to self: tell him that well and often) – and I’ve realized that that is a non-negotiable part of relationships for me; I need to be with someone who thinks I’m hot and tells me so. I won’t go back to being unappreciated and justifying that arrangement because I think I’m being shallow or needy. Fuck that, I like to feel beautiful and appreciated, I am not “above” wanting that.
Because of this personal attention, for some moments in the past month or so I’d begun to think that maybe my need for public praise and attention was drying up, but now I see that it’s just changing, and the desire for exposure (har har) is still there. Mixed up in all of this is a very real exhibitionistic streak – one that I can’t really explain away. I like to be looked at doing dirty things. It makes me hot and bothered, to know I’m being watched, masturbated to. And maybe the whole analysis of wanting to be wanted is nothing but a cover for the fact that I am coming to grips with the fact that I’m a pervy exhibitionist, and that is part of my sexuality.
So maybe I can finally say, with a clear conscience: I like the attention. Period. Exclamation point.
Posted by Dacia at 11:15 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
Better than a whirlwind
October 27, 2005
Yesterday was a good day, one of my favorite kinds of days to have (and no, I didn’t have hot monkey sex, though that would’ve made it ever more perfect). It included many a titillating moment – interview with a stripper, corset wearing, three girl photo shoot, porn site launch party – but also felt very comfortable and normal. Cozy, even, in that special way that I want my life to be cozy and stable.
I got up and did some work and puttering around at home, then headed to Williamsburg to MK Gallery to see Charise Isis’ photography exhibition, American Stripper. If you’re in NYC, you should see it in the flesh – otherwise, check out the web gallery. Jaded girl that I am, I went in with kind of low expectations, as I’ve seen many many pictures of strippers, some taken by strippers themselves. The show really exceeded my expectations, and the photographs were different and more interesting than I thought they’d be. Charise has captured something really intriguing – her subjects are shown not in moments of faux sexual rapture as in many photos of strippers, but in moments of embodied glory of movement and self. I did an interesting interview with Charise that will be in the next issue of $pread.
Then I went home and laced myself into my new and rather lovely custom corset – I’ve always liked corsets, and I have a few off the shelf full corsets and waist cinchers, but you have not known the pleasure, beauty and comfort of a corset until you wear one made for you. I was rather fixated on the nice job the corset did on my waist and hips, everything was squished in exactly the right ways, but everyone else seemed transfixed by my boobage – let’s just say that despite it being a full coverage corset, my cup (almost) runneth over. And yes, pictures were taken.
After cursing at myself for putting my corset on before getting into my boots, I headed into Manhattan to the Carlton Arms Hotel to meet up with Bella Vendetta and company and do a photo shoot before the launch party. There’s nothing quite like that moment of meeting someone who I feel completely comfortable with, and meeting Bella was just like that, like greeting an old friend. She finished getting dressed and made up so that we could get undressed, and as we were about to commence shooting one of the other models, Ophelia, showed up – so of course we added her to the fracas, with Johnny Tattoo behind the camera. I won’t give away too much, but suffice to say that there was some boot licking and some boob squeezing involved. We had to wrap up the shoot more quickly than we would’ve liked and then hustled out to Brooklyn, where there was plenty of boozin’, boobs and people putting sharp things through their skin.
Although I wouldn’t exactly say I’m part of the community, being around folks in the body mod community is inspiring to me. They’ve all taken chances with their bodies and their lives, with the way the world sees them, and so many have found each other (though perhaps not so difficult because there’s often a high degree of visibility for folks in the scene – metal in your face and exposed skin covered in tattoos will do that). Seeing the way that Bella and co have put themselves out there in their personal and professional lives to create BellaVendetta.com makes me feel like I’m in good company, forging forward into the unknown and perhaps insane land of sex as life and work. Sometimes it also strikes me as funny that I’ve been so careful in considering the future when I think about modifying my body by acquiring more tattoos, while in other ways I’m very bold (some may say stupid) about other decisions affecting my future (that whole sex work and porn thing).
Posted by Dacia at 03:51 PM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
Good things and stuff
October 23, 2005
I have a little bit of an administrative update here… plenty of exciting stuff, if I do say so myself.
First of all, if you’re in New York this week, you should make your way to the Lucky Cat in Williamsburg [245 Grand St, b/t Driggs and Roebling, take the L to Bedford Ave] on this Wednesday evening for the Bella Vendetta launch party (yes I’m a model, no my stuff isn’t up on the site yet). I’ll be there with bells on – ok, not bells, but the new corset I’ll be laced into is waaaay better than bells, trust me. The evening will include lots of live performances: flesh hook pulls performed by Rites of Passage Suspension group, play piercing, exotic dancing, rope bondage demos, a fire performance and live music. And there’s no cover charge – so really you’ve got no excuse.
Next matter of awesomeness is that $pread magazine got nominated by the Utne Reader for the 2005 “Best New Title” award. The November/December issue with the full list of nominees is out this Tuesday. We’re very excited, like maybe perhaps jumping up and down excited.
Also, I’m on the lookout for a new webmaster and a new host for my site – so if any of my lovely readers are skilled in webmastership, send me an email if you’re interested. If any of my fellow bloggers have a host to recommend, that would be lovely.
update - Right there was one more thing I was going to say. There’s a new review of mine - of Belladonna’s Fucking Girls Again - over at the SexHerald. Check it out here.
Posted by Dacia at 04:07 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Regular people
October 21, 2005
Ah, the girl next door, that archetype of porn. It’s the timeless look – kind of ironic, because it’s a look very much tied to youthful exuberance and naïvete. It’s a look that sells – the look that seemingly every porn producer is seeking. It’s the thought that sluts are everywhere, even right next door to you, that gets folks in a tizzy, I suppose.
I’ve been reading Carly Milne’s anthology Naked Ambition (which is extraordinary, and you should buy it and read it) and one of the things that has struck me in a few different essays is the writers’ claims that “we [we being people in porn] are just regular people.”
On one hand, I understand this claim – folks who work in sex are not mystical creatures. We have houses and families and bullshit to attend to just like everyone else in the world. Porn is something that regular people can just kind of fall into and wind up in – especially from the technical and administrative sides of the business. But is claiming to be “regular people” overstating the case? Although there are regularities to the days and schedules of folks who work in porn, and it really does feel regular to see anal cream pies at nine in the morning from a professional perspective – there is really nothing regular about being surrounded by the makings of sexual fantasies and realities all day long. This is not to say that it’s inherently bad or unhealthy – but in most people’s perceptions, it is definitely not normal or regular.
But maybe even though it’s a bit ludicrous, it is necessary to claim to be “regular people” – because then perhaps harsh judgment will get nudged back a little bit, and readers will dismiss the “regular” qualifier and think of people in porn as people. Maybe that’s the crux of the problem – it’s not so essential to prove how normal porn folks are, but just to show that they are human, with human needs, desires and choices.
So what about the girl next door? She’s regular people – your neighbor even. But is it easier to imagine a regular person as a wanton slut than it is to imagine a confirmed wanton slut as a regular person?
Posted by Dacia at 02:07 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
Regular people
Ah, the girl next door, that archetype of porn. It’s the timeless look – kind of ironic, because it’s a look very much tied to youthful exuberance and naïvete. It’s a look that sells – the look that seemingly every porn producer is seeking. It’s the thought that sluts are everywhere, even right next door to you, that gets folks in a tizzy, I suppose.
I’ve been reading Carly Milne’s anthology Naked Ambition (which is extraordinary, and you should buy it and read it) and one of the things that has struck me in a few different essays is the writers’ claims that “we [we being people in porn] are just regular people.”
On one hand, I understand this claim – folks who work in sex are not mystical creatures. We have houses and families and bullshit to attend to just like everyone else in the world. Porn is something that regular people can just kind of fall into and wind up in – especially from the technical and administrative sides of the business. But is claiming to be “regular people” overstating the case? Although there are regularities to the days and schedules of folks who work in porn, and it really does feel regular to see anal cream pies at nine in the morning from a professional perspective – there is really nothing regular about being surrounded by the makings of sexual fantasies and realities all day long. This is not to say that it’s inherently bad or unhealthy – but in most people’s perceptions, it is definitely not normal or regular.
But maybe even though it’s a bit ludicrous, it is necessary to claim to be “regular people” – because then perhaps harsh judgment will get nudged back a little bit, and readers will dismiss the “regular” qualifier and think of people in porn as people. Maybe that’s the crux of the problem – it’s not so essential to prove how normal porn folks are, but just to show that they are human, with human needs, desires and choices.
So what about the girl next door? She’s regular people – your neighbor even. But is it easier to imagine a regular person as a wanton slut than it is to imagine a confirmed wanton slut as a regular person?
Posted by Dacia at 02:07 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Open
October 19, 2005
He says, “You can say anything you want to me. Ask me, and I’ll do anything you want.” He means: sex, life, bullshit, everything.
Given carte blanche, my dreams freeze.
This is what I want/ed, why is my tongue all a-tangle?
It is, partly, that I struggle to give voice to my desires – I am human after all, and afraid of rejection (say anything, he says and my voicebox croaks). But mostly it’s that, given the opportunity to be free, I don’t know what I want. Without taboos, without that fear of derisively being called a pervert by the person I want to do perverted things with, truly free, I draw a blank.
I want to get at and nurture the deepandtrue carnal nature within me, but suddenly I see that there are roadblocks, invisible and ludicrous ones in my head. I didn’t see them before, when I had to struggle to get my desires heard (nowhere near met). But now, that struggle dissipated, I feel as though I’m standing around, openempty handed. Almost not even desiring, because it’s too much to ask that I know what I want. But it isn’t – it’s just enough to ask, just enough to make my head spin. Spinning with possibility, not suggestion.
I’m not afraid to be shot down, my desires unquenched and mocked. Am I afraid to get what I want?
Posted by Dacia at 12:12 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
All sex drives aren’t created equal (Ask Audacia 7)
October 17, 2005
Hi Dacia, I am writing to see what you would say to me about my wife. The problem is she is not as interested in sex as I am. I want to try new things in new places with some new people possibly and she is just a stick in the mud. It took and act of congress for me to get her to say “Fuck Me!” while we are having sex. I hope you get the point, anyway do you have any ideas that I can use to get more and more exciting sex with my wife????
Generally, the sexual activities of a couple default to the frequency desired by the person with the lower libido. In some cases, with lots of excellent communication, a compromise can be reached. You should check out a very excellent blog (though now discontinued) by a woman named Wendy, whose libido is very much higher than her husbands’; last winter, after many sexless years, they reached a compromise of scheduled sex nights several times a week.
The best advice I can give you – and it’s no quick fix, for certain – is that you should start to communicate about both of your needs and desires. Does your wife agree that the kind and amount of sex you’re having is indeed a problem? That is a very important question to answer; if she would like to be having more and more varied sex, perhaps you could both start by making three lists – I would never, I might, I want to. Be comprehensive, share them with each other, begin to talk it all over – and remember that everything doesn’t have to happen right away, you’ve got your whole lives to explore together. If, however, she isn’t interested in having more and more varied encounters, then you need to start discussing ways to compromise, not ways to make her exactly like you. Neither of you should outright do things you don’t want to do, but perhaps if you’ll agree to do her some favors (sexual or otherwise), she’ll indulge you in some of your kinks. Again, it’s crucial that neither of you feels pressured, manipulated or coerced into doing things that aren’t fun or are outside of the comfort zone.
Although I won’t say that sex is a total deal breaker for every libido or kink mismatched couple – I am saying that sexual values and desires should be an important part of assessing partner compatibility. Of course this isn’t a huge amount of help if you’re already committed to someone, but I do think it’s an important thing for people to consider as they are getting to know potential partners. My friend Amber wrote about this a while back, to the sound of much commotion in her comments section (does commotion have a sound? By golly, yes). For both Amber and I – sexual and libido compatibility is a huge and central issue in dating. When I was younger and more prone to believing sex negative bullshit, I was told on many occasions that sex really wasn’t that important in the scheme of things, and it was ok if I was having bad sex in a long term relationship, because other things were more important. Fuck that noise: for me, at least, sex is an important issue. If it is for you as well, it is worth addressing – but it’s also important to weigh this issue against many other issues.
Posted by Dacia at 02:24 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Everything You Know...
October 15, 2005
10.15.05
Everything You Know About Sex is Wrong
Out now from Disinformation Press is the new mondo-anthology Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong. I have a piece in it called “My First Fetish or How I Fought Mediocrity.”
Posted by Dacia at 10:40 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Everything You Know...
10.15.05
Everything You Know About Sex is Wrong
Out now from Disinformation Press is the new mondo-anthology Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong. I have a piece in it called “My First Fetish or How I Fought Mediocrity.”
Posted by Dacia at 10:40 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Porn and liberation
October 14, 2005
I started to write a response in the comments section of my last post to a commenter saying
I don’t believe you can sugar coat porn with a new name or description. You can call it erotica or alternative whatever, but the material serves the same purpose, which is to get people aroused. Stimulating the intellect towards sex is no different than base arousal of pornograpy, just a longer route. If there is ever to be acceptance of porn, the people need to be honest about it. Nobody is going to buy that whatever you are calling it. What Bella is doing is not liberating or intellectual.
Firstly, if you’ve got sugar coated altporn (I mean “pin-ups,” some don’t like the four letter p word) in mind - that’s entirely wrong for Bella Vendetta. BV is about the least sugar coated site I’ve ever seen - blood and bile coated is more like it.
That detail aside, I do know what you’re getting at: pictures of naked people are for me (or you) to masturbate to, don’t bullshit yourself.
I’ve been watching the alt porn scene develop over the past few years - in both prurient and more studious contexts - and it’s been interesting to see the ways that discourse moves around liberation, sex positivity, and the politics of using words like “art,” “porn,” “erotica,” and “pin-up.”
Many folks who aren’t accustomed to a steady diet of porn find it sleazy or cheesy when they do see it - or those are the words they use to describe it in mixed company at least. Couples want to see stuff that is more palatable, young people want to see performers they can relate to, with a slightly alternative, tongue in cheek style. And so - the birth of alt porn. Suicide Girls is a really great example of the movement, partly because they’ve been getting a lot of flak recently as people call bullshit on their management practices (though its important to say that many many alt porn sites have impeccable management practices).
Many of the now-ex models from SG said that one of the main points of attraction to the site was the voice they were given (forums, journals) and the female empowerment message of the site being run by a woman. But it turns out that a lot of that is just marketing bullshit, aimed both at consumers concerned with exploitation and the young, often feminist, models. This is not to say that it’s impossible to run a smut business ethically - I seen it! - it’s really awesome that there is demand for ethically run smut sites.
But buried in a much of the altporn and pin-up site ethos seems to be the idea that for a woman to be liberated and her admirers to be liberated, the images shouldn’t be hardcore. I find this to be a weirdly hypocritical, thinly veiled and well, just stupid, way of covering up the fact that these sites are for people to get off to. When you put a bunch of girls in narrative strip-down sets on a website, it’s for masturbating. And there’s nothing inherently wrong, debasing or oppressive about that. It’s fucked up production and model management that makes this stuff “bad,” not getting naked itself.
I’m not saying that all altporn sites should be hardcore - I’m just saying that a little straightforwardness about what the stuff is for is needed. Celebration of bodies and sexuality has immense potential to be liberating, but I’d be the last one to claim that the act of getting naked on camera is liberating for all people at all times, just as I wouldn’t say its exploitative across the board.
Though there are issues with alt porn, I also think that it has pushed a really interesting thing forward - communities around porn. It can be argued that the adult industry has always had its own kind of community - people in the business are stigmatized at all different levels, which kind of forces them into a default community, but the internet and the new generation of porn makers and consumers that have come with it has really revolutionized this. A lot of the alt porn sites have very active message boards, where models, fans and company staff mingle, bitch, laugh, argue and sing each other’s praises. I personally think that’s pretty fucking cool. I like that porn is being destigmatized in that way - that it’s ok, even cool to talk about it. Sure, this in some ways is an extension of the porno chic that was ushered in when Deep Throat debuted in the early seventies - but I think (or hope at least) that its something more than that, that its becoming more okay to talk about sex, turn ons, and all that good stuff.
Maybe that is reading into it too much, intellectualizing something that’s really at base matter of getting off. However, I think its pretty fucking cool to try and reach a balance between the prurient and the intellectual, mix them together a bit and see what happens. You can be a thinking person (about porn even) and still dig the nasty stuff, and maybe the combination of thinking and nasty will yield some awesome new porn.
Posted by Dacia at 01:05 AM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
Pushing the limits
October 11, 2005
Sometimes I think I’ve fallen out of love with porn, and I especially feel squicky about the porn industry, but today I was reminded why I care, why I love that dirty beast that causes so much controversy and strife in the world and between and amongst the sexes. From an interview on bmezine with Bella Vendetta about her newly launched site:
I know there’s a market for “intellectual” pornography, if you will. There’s a fine line between erotica/art/porn as it is already, so I’d like to see that blurred even more. I’d like to make people question themselves, “Wow, does this really turn me on?” There’s no thought process behind most porn: it’s penis and vagina and it’s meant to get you off as quickly as possible. What’s really refreshing to me about this whole alternative porn movement is that it’s actually making people think. BV is all about doing things differently. I’d like to kick things up a few notches.
Check out the full interview with Bella Vendetta here and then head on over to BellaVendetta.com to see your filthy future.
Posted by Dacia at 02:34 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Spread open your... mind
October 07, 2005
Q: What do you get when you put me, a stripper and a tub of hummus in a hotel room for the night?
A: A good night’s rest.
No, seriously.
In an effort to save on shipping costs, the $pread team did a roadtrip to retrieve Issue 3 in all its glory. It’s a pretty fucking exciting issue, if I do say so myself, and it includes pieces by two of my favorite sex working bloggers: one of the features is by Trixie, called “Menstruation: Porn’s Last Taboo,” there’s also a lovely short piece by Melissa Gira called “Amends for an A.K.” - plus lots of other stuff.
To subscribe to $pread (nudge nudge), go here. We’re planning a really awesome benefit here in New York in early November, so stay tuned for that as well.
I’ve joined the filthy minded team over at Viviane’s Sex Carnival, and will be posting things as they come across my desk. I’ll be posting mainly interesting news items, probably lots of politics and sexual health stuff, but also some more fun stuff.
And tomorrow, I get back in my car, armed with copies of $pread, this week’s Time Out, and a hip flask full of whiskey to make the trip to my parents’ place upstate for The Talk, Part 2 (and 3 and 4 and… egads). After my revelations on Tuesday, I got an email from my mom saying that she and my dad are concerned and want to talk more… so talk we will. Think good thoughts for me!
Posted by Dacia at 10:02 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Porn: Made in NYC
October 05, 2005
Last night when I got home I had a voicemail from Joe Gallant: “Wow, baby, look at you, you’re all grown up! The Time Out photo looks great, you’re so happy and beautiful. Be my bride!” I first met Joe when I was 21 and an effusively nerdy and intense kid, researching smut to my heart’s content for the Museum of Sex. Joe’s right – I’ve really grown into myself, body and brain, since then.
So yes, Jefferson – your comment was spot on. The rush to leap into discussion with my parents was a bit of preemptive damage control, as my visage and a few of my words grace page 30 (the whole page) of Time Out NY this week – and there’s no doubt that the article or at least word of it will reach my pervy dad. I’m featured as part of their cover story:
It’s a pretty terrific article that made me swell with pride for the sleaze of my city. Joe’s Black Mirror gets a lot of attention in the piece, with mentions of a nice variety of other companies that are creating a real and diverse alternative to the porn coming out of CA. Perhaps this is best summed up by what Kenny Law, an editor at Screw, is quoted saying in the article: “There’s a punk, underground attitude here, due to a lack of money that you don’t get on the West Coast. It’s real and relatable. It’s not just some palm trees swaying in the wind.” The photo essay includes Angel Baby (my personal fave and long-time masturbation inspiration), Brenda Staudenmaier, Anne Hanavan, Keith Crass, Guy Gonzales, Erika Kole, Heather Reznor, Big John and of course yours truly, all shot by the funny and awesome Brad Nelson.
It’s a rare picture of Audacia Ray – I’m laughing my head off, whereas I’m usually so serious when I pose. So, a different kind of picture, much more of a portrait than most of the photos you’ve all seen of me. I’m excited – and let me tell you, this thing has been on the stands for less than 24 hours, and nothing flushes out long lost friends and lovers like an upskirt shot in a major New York entertainment magazine.
If you can’t read it, the text says: “Audacia Ray: ‘I’m the news & shorts editor of $pread magazine, a new sex-workers’-rights magazine. I write a blog at WakingVixen.com and do porn reviews, erotica and personal essays for a variety of publications. I also get naked for fine art and porn projects, am a professional foot and leg fetishist and teach HIV prevention workshops.’”
Posted by Dacia at 04:17 PM | Comments (13) | TrackBack
Just jump
October 04, 2005
Will I or won’t I? I wondered this morning (ok, afternoon, it was 12.30 pm, but I’d only been awake for two hours, so still morning for me) as I took the subway into Manhattan to meet my parents for lunch. After starting to go through the old motions of obsessing and list-making and trying to write a pouring out of heart letter to my parents, I decided to fucking chill out and see what happens, what I felt like doing. No plan, no script. All preparation.
I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few days about the comments and emails I’ve been getting from you, my valued readers. I was hell bent on plunging in full force, telling all, perhaps in letter form – really a full frontal assault. As I thought about it more, I realized I could do this in a less obnoxious, selfishly driven way. I decided to open up this part of my life to discussion slowly, let them ask questions about things they wanted to know about but not shove any information down their throats, and not lie if they asked tough questions. It will be a coming out process, not a moment in time, a thing I can brush off my hands after one conversation and say – well, that’s done. It will be a journey, like everything. And parts of it will likely be difficult and ugly.
We sat, we ordered food, and as always, my parents asked what I’ve been up to, and I told them that actually, that’s something I wanted to talk to them about (fuck it, I’m doing this). My mom got an uh-oh look on her face and asked, “Oh no. That phrase makes me uneasy. Only scandalous things can come next.” I assured her that, yes, I was going to say something scandalous. Deep breath and out with it, same thing I told my brother: dirty sex writing about my own sex life, naked modeling, $pread magazine, pieces in upcoming books, all very dirty and very personal.
“That’s terrific!” my dad exclaimed without any hesitation.
“It is?”
“Yeah, we’re so relieved that you’re working on something! We were starting to worry, it seemed like you were just drifting along aimlessly.”
“A book?” my mom asked, smiling broadly.
“Yeah, I have a piece called “My First Fetish” in a book called Everything You Know About Sex is Wrong, and its out this month. I have other stuff in the works too.”
“I want to read it all,” my dad said decisively.
“Well, a lot of it is pretty dirty. And did I mention it’s about my personal sex life? Cuz it is.”
“Yeah, well, if you’re exposing yourself to the public like that,” he chuckled a bit at his use of the word ‘exposing,’ “I’m the public, so I get to read it. Right?” He looked to my mom for confirmation. She looked much less certain about this than my dad.
“How dirty are we talking here?” she wanted to know.
“Ehhh, lesbian fisting? Fetishes and lots of sex. Detailed and sexy descriptions.” Phrases most people will never hear from their daughter.
“I see,” my mom said thoughtfully. My dad was still looking pretty damned enthused.
“And what about the modeling?” mom wanted to know.
“Well, it’s erotic – so fully naked, sometimes explicit.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, very much.”
She nodded.
My dad got his evil look on his face and said, “We can send clippings and pictures to your aunt! She’d love that!” His sister is very conservative, very Roman Catholic, and would probably faint. My dad is always eager to ruffle everyone’s feathers, which probably explains his glee about my revelation.
I told them more about $pread, about activism within the sex industry, about networks of brilliant and supportive people, about the opportunities and happiness this has provided me with on so many levels, about my passion for both the high-minded and the sleaze, about my place in all that. They listened intently - getting it, I think.
My mom wanted to know how I’d been getting so much attention and published pieces and I told her that my website has a lot to do with it. “What kind of website are we talking about here?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. I told her it’s a blog with a fairly extensive, but free, web gallery. She wanted to know if she could see the site, and I quickly said no, not right now, thinking of all I’ve been writing about lately. Lately? Try always.
I don’t want to be secretive, but I want to have a little bit of privacy. Is it insane to even think about privacy now, when I’ve begun to shape my life around openness, honesty and invasion of what most people would consider privacy, making the personal professional? Beyond that, at this point I want to create the space for conversations and questions, not my parents getting intimate with my life through my blog, though I suppose I have to be prepared for that if that’s the direction they take this. The worst case scenario, I suppose, is that they start to read my blog and I have to deal, right now and right away, with all the questions that come up as a result. That’s something I’ve thought about, and something I can manage, though I’d like to see it go down a little differently. Like I said, a process. I’ve taken the first leap.
Posted by Dacia at 04:50 PM | Comments (12) | TrackBack
In the throes of...
October 03, 2005
I spent my day yesterday cooking vegan fineries, watching porn and drinking whiskey: a nice domestic Sunday. In the evening, Seth joined me to partake in said activities and add some deep dicking to the mix. He’d been dreaming of a particular pair of sparkly blue panties I have, so he bid me put them on, and I added a pair of heels I knew he’d like to the mix, and added enough opportunities to walk away from him so that he could get a good look at my ass. Soon we were in my bed, my tits heaved so the nipples poked out of my bra, panties on the floor, high heels intact, me crouched between his legs, letting my hair tickle his belly as my tongue tickled his cock. I looked up at him through the curtain of my hair; he snatched his cock away from me, and told me he wanted to fuck me. “But I’m not done sucking you,” I said, mouth engulfing him for one suck, two. “Okay, now I’m done, but I want you to play with my pussy first. Make me squirm.” He obliged and I relaxed, trusting, into his touch as he whipped my innards into a frenzy. I came hard, clapping my thighs around his hand.
Kissing him, I said into his mouth, “I’m soooo not done with you.”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
“Whatever, dude,” as I sheathed his cock in a condom and climbed aboard. “You made me so wet,” I commented as I slipped him all the way into me.
I rocked on top of him for a minute, and he could feel my muscles begin to tighten, my breathing grow erratic. “Come for me baby,” he commanded softly. In all other circumstances with all other partners, this command rubs me the wrong way (goddammit, I’m trying, don’t pressure me), but with Seth it’s a trigger: I came hard for him, eyes ablaze at his, his hands gripping the curve of my waist and pressing me firmly down onto his cock. My body stopped moving, frozen with taut-orgasm muscles, but he didn’t stop for a second as he pumped me from below, fucking me almost immediately into another orgasm, then grabbing a fistful of hair and flipping me onto my back.
“I’m a sweaty kid,” he said, as he rubbed his dripping face all over my tits, leaving beads of sweat indistinguishable from my own.
“You’re a nasty kid, is what you are.”
“But you like it when I’m nasty,” he said, spitting on my left nipple for emphasis. “And – for my first orgasm I’m going to come all over your tits and rub it in with my sweat.” Done and done.
We took a break and went out for refreshments, and when we got back he kind of smirked at me and said, “You have dried come on your neck.”
“You let me walk around in public with jizz on my neck?” I was slightly incredulous, highly amused.
“Well, I didn’t see it before we left, but then it was there and… it’s kinda hot,” he laughed into my neck as he licked me clean. Breaking away, he commented, “You know, as much time as each of us spend watching porn, we haven’t watched porn together.” I pawed through my pile of recent acquisitions and popped in a Belladonna dvd, shot while she was nice and pregnant.
“Heh. Is this what they call a couples video?” he laughed as we watched Belladonna push a baseball bat up Melissa Lauren’s ass. I reached over and fondled his cock, and told him that there was more than one box underneath my bed – the condom box, which he’d seen, and the toy box, which he had not. I pulled open the toy box and his eyes went a little wide; he was impressed at the quantity and variety of butt plugs. “I predict that there will be ass fucking tonight,” he said. “Now pick out a butt plug while I go to the bathroom.”
I pulled out my glass butt plug, pointed my bottom towards the bedroom door and started to work it into my ass. “Everyone loves a glass butt plug,” I told him as he came back in the room.
“Fuck yeah, they should,” he said as he clapped his hands down on my ass cheeks and spread them apart so he could get a look into my ass. “Goddamn, that’s a great view,” he said as he moved my hands to replace where his were. I held my ass cheeks apart as I heard him start to touch himself. “I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he told me as he ripped open a condom wrapper. He wasted no time in plunging himself into my pussy. I wiggled the butt plug in my ass so he could really feel it; he groaned his approval. He fucked me fast and hard, wrenching one hand into my hair and twisting hard as I bucked against him. I came hard against him, orifices throbbing. He growled that he was going to come, pulled out, shed the condom and decorated my back with a sizeable wad. We toweled off, eased the butt plug out of my ass, had some more vegan vittles and kicked back to watch porn. I yawned and snuggled into him, scratching my itchy nose on his chin stubble. “Bedtime?” he queried.
“Well, I’m not really tired, so I guess we should fuck some more.”
“Alright, let’s do it,” he agreed.
“Are we fucking yet?” I hadn’t moved at all.
“Almost. Come lie on top of me – it’ll be fun.” I made a big show of the effort it took for me to get on top of him. “For round five,” he declared (yes, I’ve left out some of the intermediary rounds), “I’m going to fuck your ass.” We talked about ass fucking a bit more, and I revealed to him that I’d never been DP’d, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I was fucked in the ass by a flesh and blood cock, it’s been that long. He was surprised. I reminded him that though I fuck my own ass a lot, I don’t trust the deed to just anyone. He promised he’d make nice with my ass, and he delivered.
We started with me on my back, with Seth easing his fingers into me to open me up even further than the butt plug had. The timber of our voices changed, as he switched into a dominant but caretaking mode and my muscles felt like they were made of jelly. He generously lubed my ass and then his cock and pushed the head into me. I exhaled deeply and felt my ass wanting more. He asked if I was okay, and I told him to push in all the way; another deep exhalation and I felt his balls against me. I continued to take deep breaths and I realized that he was in me, I could trust him, and he was going to treat my ass right. He started fucking me slowly, carefully, talking softly all the while, telling me what a good girl I was to take his cock all the way up my ass, the ass that belongs to him. I started to grunt and groan and slid my hands down my body to open my ass up for him. I pressed my feet against his chest, toes curling into him; he rubbed one foot and took my toes into his mouth. After a few minutes, he pulled out and I gave him a ‘no, don’t leave,’ look. He commanded me to roll over, slapped my ass as I obeyed.
“Now I’m going to give you a serious fucking,” he announced, as he spread more lube on his cock. He pressed into me and grabbed my wrists to hold my arms behind my back, pressing my face into the mattress. He fucked me slow deep and hard, gradually increasing the intensity until he was really laying into me. My pussy started to feel a bit lonely, so I plunged four fingers inside myself, rubbing my g-spot while pressing my knuckles against his cock as it thrust in and out of my ass. I began to go cross-eyed and felt goose bumps creeping all over my flesh, tingly ice cream headache sensation up the back of my head until I was coming so hard my ears were ringing and I just couldn’t take an ounce more. Seth knew I’d reached my cock threshold, pulled out, shed the condom and asked me to flip back over onto my back.
I was really flushed and a bit flustered, but unable to keep away from his cock as usual. I gripped his cock at the base between my left big and pointer toes, while I pressed down on his balls with the pad of my right foot. His eyes told me he was intense about this. He reached for the lube and slathered it onto my arches. I put my feet together sole to sole and he slipped his cock in the space in between. He pumped his cock in between my feet and I masturbated appreciatively to the sight. “I’m gonna come all over your feet, so point your toes,” he said, and I did as he asked. His aim perfect, his load immense for orgasm five in as many hours, he spread his come evenly over my ten toes.
“I was awesome,” he laughed.
“Bring your awesome over here,” I said as I pulled his lips to mine.
My room today is a disaster area: used condoms, high heels, butt plugs, interesting underthings and porn films everywhere. That’s what I call a good night.
Posted by Dacia at 02:44 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
Pieces of the puzzle
October 01, 2005
I’ve been thinking more and more about coming out to my family about what the hell I’ve been up to for the past year. I fear that it’s going to become quite the necessity soon, and I’d rather be the one to tell them what’s up instead of letting them find out through some other channels.
To test this thing out, I decided to disclose some information to my brother. At brunch this morning, pretty much as soon as we sat down, I said, “So, I have something I want to talk to you about.” I went on to tell him that for the last year, I’ve been pursuing writing and modeling and that I’ve not just been writing about other people’s sex lives like before, but writing about the intimate details of my sex life, on my blog (“What’s a blog?” he asked) and increasingly in print. I also told him about getting naked for money in the context of modeling, but not about other more dubious sexual transactions. He took it all in stride, proving that he is awesome; I had been afraid that in some ways he’d actually be more judgmental than my parents, since he is considerably more prudish than they are. He also said that he felt bad that I hadn’t felt comfortable telling him this before, and asked if I was nervous about telling him (yes). He also urged me to tell our parents, and related that they’ve been concerned about me because I don’t seem as busy or involved as I used to be.
I told him about being jealous of our parents’ immense support for his endeavors, and the fact that I really want that from them, but I’m not entirely sure what that will look like. I don’t necessarily want them appearing at readings and other occasions to hear me read about being fisted or sucking three cocks at once, but that’s pretty much what I do, so… He said he’d happily come to see me read at some point, as long as he doesn’t have to see me naked; that’s a pretty impressive gesture on his part. I told him he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach a lot of the stuff I talk and write about, and that he should just trust me that there’s a lot of stuff he doesn’t want to know. He was pretty cool with that, and reiterated that he just doesn’t want to see me naked.
Maybe I should have pushed it a little further and told him about the private session sex work. He may have been a lot less supportive of that. I chickened out a little, I suppose, but I wasn’t really expecting my revelation to be taken so well, so I hadn’t been planning on going all the way, as it were. I gave him two copies of $pread Magazine as a parting gift and asked him to let me know what he thinks and if he has any questions. This means the sex work thing will probably come up, and I’ll be ready for it if he’s had time to mull it over a bit.
We went on to talk about the fact that our parents are probably regretting that they’ve raised us to pursue our dreams right about now, since both of us basically have employment strategies of “get paid to be awesome.” They’ve created fiercely independent little monsters and surely have a mix of pride and fear in that. But hey, I’m just continuing on in the family tradition of saying a big “fuck you” to What Is Supposed to Be.
I think if I was less serious about making working in sex a life-commitment, it would be kind of stupid and unnecessary to tell-all, but I think I’m getting there. I know full well that ultimately this is all up to me, and I’m starting to draft a long letter that might get sent or might act as notes for a conversation, but I’m just curious to know what you all think… so it’s time for a reader poll!
*EDIT* Sorry about the poll not working, it appears that the site I used to host the poll is having problems at the moment.
I would not consider telling my parents if this was just something I’m doing in private - but I am starting to get more press, my writings are getting published and I’m starting to do talks and appearances. The thing that drives me to tell them, beyond sheer confessional desire (someone compared it to confessing cheating on someone to clear one’s own conscience) is that it is really only a matter of time before I’m recognized and my dirty deeds are discovered. If I was not interested in leading a public life linked to my sexuality, I wouldn’t even consider telling them.
Posted by Dacia at 03:02 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
