Sicut-Dico.com

Author: SD

  • Who am I? And why should you give me money?

    Part 1. WHO

    My mom said I should not have this kind of provocative headline. I understand the fear; however, I am writing this post not to provoke anyone, but to literally answer the questions. In this fake world, it might be too real for some. Not my issue, though.

    Let us begin by simply listing the things I do; later, I will unfold each one of them in a separate post.

    1. I am a professional dominatrix: mindful, sensitive, direct, sadistic and skilled. I specialise in pain play and also in guiding people with little experience into safe ways to enjoy their kinks. I’m also a huge fan of bi play.
    2. I am a performer who can work on stage or with a live audience. Mostly, I now do wax play performances, but I would love to collaborate with some rope artists or other BDSM-related disciplines.
    3. I make my own candles for wax play. They are slightly cooler than basic paraffin, and I know for sure they are body-safe, including for the face and genital areas. Originally, I was streaming the making process on this website. I will do it again soon.
    4. I am an activist. I have done a number of artistic protest actions in Berlin and Prague, mostly against the terrorist state of Russia, but also against Elon Musk in front of Tesla. To be honest, I don’t call them protests—I call them cursing actions.
    5. I am a priestess. I can curse, I can heal, I can set souls on fire or give them peace. I serve no one but the universe, and I am here to wake up humanity, as well as to support those who are already awake and suffer from what they witness.
    6. Last but not least, I am a spicy content creator. My porn is raw, honest, and unapologeticaly unpolished: real orgasms, no-makeup scenes, no cuts or retakes. I have accounts on most of the fan sites and am filling them up now. I manage it all myself, so you will definitely be chatting with me, just be patient.
    Now lets get to the WHY? Briefly

    Short version is – because you have them. Of corse, I will give you more details in each of the next posts, so stay tuned and take care of yourself well.

  • What TF is going on here

    This blog was born almost exactly 4 years ago. Same as the name Sicut Dico. Yet, today I have to start from scratch again and learn one very important lesson about trusting men. Or actually not trusting. Unteel thez learn my trust.

    Anyways. In the next 30 days I will republish important articles that I have written earlier along with writing fresh and raw notes on the current state of things, so you get some taste of my life in the past months and years.

    Here’s the first article I wrote here in 2022: https://sicut-dico.com/2022/02/01/as-i-say/

    Don’t forget to check my other links: https://linktr.ee/sicutdico

  • Notes on the ruSSian culture and IG

    Dostoevsky was a chauvinist relic, but he wasn’t wrong about everything.
    Some people aren’t people — they’re things, dead weight wrapped in skin.


    And the world works fine as long as they understand that.
    The crisis begins when the majority doesn’t,
    when the hollow ones start nodding like they matter.


    Pathetic. Bur scary

    Below are the photos I had to rip off Instagram
    after I ended up sparring with nazi vermin —
    born in the US, born in the USSR, doesn’t matter.
    Fascism has the same stench everywhere:
    rotting arrogance dressed as morality.

    So now my tits are even rarer.
    Thank them for the scarcity.
    They did you all a favor.

    Your old melon,
    with love, poison, and perfect clarity,
    your Sicut

    photo-credit https://www.instagram.com/bulltosh/

    for more eplicit stuff check my links at https://linktr.ee/sicutdico

  • The Making of a Dominatrix — On the Birth of the Inner Sadist

    The Making of a Dominatrix — On the Birth of the Inner Sadist

    Chapter One — Siberian Gopnik School

    It was definitely the soviet school system — my first contact with sadism, violence, and so-called real education. I changed quite a few schools. I was a tall girl, already very opinionated; as the teachers labeled me, I was sensitive and rather naïve.

    So I quickly learned how either to avoid trouble — which in soviet school means not to stand out — or how to deal with bullies. And here I mean both: teachers and other children.

    The taller I grew, the more I had to give up on the art of blending in. And the better I became at dealing with all kinds of bullies. I was a horrible teenager. But I survived — without a massive trauma or a heroin addiction. Some of my later classmates didn’t.

    That stage taught me to be extremely creative with what’s in the room. It taught me how to threaten verbally and to escalate first, to avoid the physical fight. You have to be smarter and bolder than your opponent. You must attack first.

    Basically: you have to become the bully.

    Chapter Two — Cultural Fascism at Uni

    When I moved to saint petersburg, people tried to reduce my Siberian background to “village girl.” Little did they know I had traveled in one year as much as most of them had in their lives. There I began to learn the art of humiliation, sarcasm, and mind games. It took me ten years to escape that cloak of russian culture.

    One useful thing at university was the course they canceled after me: History of Religion. It made me a complete atheist at that point. I also learned that big business is run by big, cruel idiots.

    Back then I thought it might be only in russia.

    I was naive.

    Chapter Three — The Real Stuff

    When I had to deal with the russian police, that’s where I finally touched the hardcore stuff — or, more accurately, where the hardcore stuff touched me.

    I guess this is where my habit of trying toys on myself first comes from. It’s also where I encountered some quite non-consensual power exchanges. Writing this now, years later, I begin to think it was partly my choice to experience that simply by physically being in russia.

    Oh — and of course I had a violently envious boyfriend who taught me a few self-defence tricks for close combat. I broke his nose with my elbow; later my mother visited him in hospital because he was crying like a child. It was useful learning: if you show up with a black eye at university, very few people will care. Those who do will likely judge or insult. No one will offer support. Good thing I already had true friends and wasn’t alone.

    So here are the three pillars of my sadistic persona. However overall experience also taught me that violence and hostility do not always mean power. Quite often the opposite.

    Imagine — this is just the beginning. Uh?

    Next chapter is about my gentle and caring side and it is coming right up. If you wish to contact me, feel free to email with a propper introduction.