Open for modeling for creative and non-profit projects.
Planing to make a lot of video content this month, so looking for co-creators of any kind.
Can take one paid session per city while traveling through and two sessions in Prague. Deposit from 250 EUR.
Hit me up via sicut@sicut-dico.com
03-04.03 Madrid, ESP
05-07.03 Alicante / Valencia, ESP
07.03 Bilbao, ESP
08.03 Bordeaux, FR
09-10.03 Paris, FR
11.03 Sittard, NL
12.03 Berlin, DE
18.03 – 31.03 Prague, CZ
(CW: suicide, police and drugs mentions)
This post is the hardest I’ve written so far. However publishing it seemed even trickier. I’m glad I made it though.
I’d like to be very clear with my agenda behind making this story public:
So do I. This story is also a compromise with myself. I’m alive to tell it and see where it brings us all.
I decided to assemble the events in a timeline so my perspective can be seen better. But first I want to put all the cards on the table for people who don’t know me at all and give another set of warnings.
Please stop reading if my words trigger you and ask for help. Send me an email if you have no one else to talk to, but allow me up to 48 hrs to respond.
I’m a hyper sensitive person, recovering alcoholic, who has only been living a mindful life for the last couple of years. While my own suicidal thoughts are slowly going away I have stronger intention to share not only my drinking story and episodes like this one but leave one message to all sensitive souls who feel like it’s just too much for them:
it’s okay to feel what you feel.
The world is broken, not us.
Now let’s finally get to the story.
“What a cute doggie” – I said to my husband right before the moment that cute doggie ran to my direction and technically ruined our next 5 days of vacation. Not trying to blame the dog here. Just wanted to mention this detail to express my level of not being ready to have issues with my weed at that moment.
(I admit, That was naive behavior. I wanted to see what I wanted to see. Maybe this is why this all happened to me in the first place. The universe has a habit of giving me harsh lessons.)
The first group of people who processed us were the customs police of Kristiansand. They asked me to move the car to a special box where I handed over all my… drugs. I had two rolled joints with tobacco in my purse and a bag of weed in the luggage.
Of course they still did a full search for more drugs. They stripped us naked in separated rooms, I had to wait extra for a female to do the procedure. All our belongings were dropped on the floor out of the car. I remember at least 5 different people involved. They were all polite to us, offered water, and when I asked how bad and how long it would be for us, they somehow told me both that it might take from a couple of hours to a full day but not much more.
We all understood that the crime was not a real crime.
At that point I felt rather safe.
Once the search was done they told me that now foreign police will come and talk to us. We were allowed to collect our stuff and put it back in the car. This is where the safe feeling started fading. I picked up my pillow from the not-exactly-shiny metal bench trying to not think what else had touched that bench before and almost puked.
“I could have just not taken that weed with me. Or not kept it so open. Why do they treat me like a criminal? They sell this stuff over the counter just a few sea miles away.” – All those thoughts in my head were slowly turning into anxiety.
Foreign police didn’t come. Instead, it was a couple of regular city police officers who said that I had to come with them and they delivered me to the foreign police office. When I asked what was happening to me, they said they didn’t know, but it should not take long.
“Is it all my fault I’m going to be stuck in here? What do they want from me?” – I started panicking when they told me that they are not going to put me in a cell and made it sound like it was the good news part.
I explained my previous experience and background. The people seemed to be trying to be nice to me. But they also didn’t know shit. They had no idea what would happen to me. Nor did they know what to do. They assumed it wouldn’t be too bad. But then I could see how this not too bad started fading away behind the frustration. I was still a criminal to them. A foreign criminal.
It was a hard day not just for me. I could sense the frustration for everyone.
At the end of the day they said I had to come back the next day at 12. And the day after. And another day. Until they figure out what to do with me.
They did this to me in Russia. I had to visit the police daily and sometimes they would totally not accidentally hit me with a door or just simply into the stomach. I knew this should not happen in Norway. But overall I wasn’t sure what I could know anymore. I started thinking about death.
This was all my fault. Again. I’m an addict who can’t survive sober. Why should I even try to survive? I realized that I had a pocket knife in my waste bag. It just ended up there after the search.
I started wondering if killing myself in a police station would help them reconsider their ideas if I committed a crime or not. This was a strange moment when I had those thoughts they actually finished explaining to me how they don’t know what will happen next. They simply had to go home. They also could not see what was wrong with my panic about coming back tomorrow and the day after.
I mentioned the suicidal part btw. This may have played a role in them allowing me to not show up for anything on Sunday but I’m not sure.
We had a hotel booked not far from Kristiansand. A fancy one of course. I knew I needed help and thought somehow the people in the hotel would know what to do.
I was very straightforward at the reception: I said, I have a mental health crisis and very strong suicidal thoughts. Can I talk to someone? Can you help me find a hot line?
They did give me a number. But no one picked up there. I survived that night because my husband was there for me. I don’t know if I could have done it alone. But I for sure realized that night how bad alone can be for people like me.
I woke up and started crying. I almost could not talk. Felt frozen. Wanted to die.
I clearly remember how I was also wondering if killing myself on the main square of this town was better idea? Rather quickly I decided that it was not. Other people didn’t deserve to see it.
In the meanwhile we arrived back at the office where things went from not too bad to no one can tell what was happening.
What started there was absolutely unimaginable. For me. For everyone else first it seemed like a normal day. Of course, again completely new people met me at the police station. New shift I guess. But it was 3 of them at once, and one was always standing around the entrance with arms crossed on the chest.
They came up with the text that would inform me about my rights and they had to deliver it to me. Guess what? They brought a Russian speaking person to read it (on the phone, but still +1 more person involved) . And I’m ready to bet, this person worked for the investigation committee in Russia before. I just know how they talk. I had hoped I could forget that.
This is where the real torture started. They first didn’t even understand what they did to me. Part of my mind was still telling me – they can’t beat you up. But what’s the difference? I already wanted to die.
The text was ridiculous. Well. Now I know. They were telling me what kind of crime I had committed and that the punishment would be expelling me and also cancelling my residence in the EU.
The cruel part is that at the moment I didn’t know how impossible this was. I mean they could expel me, but not cancel my residence. However in the moment the trick worked – they scared the shit out of me.
They almost made me believe that I committed a crime.
At that point they kindly allowed us to leave. Of course still holding on to my passport and expecting me to come back on Monday at 12. For what? The next step. What kind? No one knows.
They were all very confident that they were simply doing their jobs. However I can’t not leave a remark here that they also multiple times called Czech Republic “Czechoslovakia”. Since my residence in from Czechia.
Not sure what else to tell here.
The next day they called me and told me that they decided to stop the case because they actually realized that they can’t cancel my residence. So they also decided to not kick me out.
I was of course happy to hear they finally did what the first people processing me expected them to do on the first day. They will fine me and leave in peace.
Honestly – even a fine I consider unfair and stupid. But it’s not the topic. At that point I was happy to pay the fine and be free.
They still had my passport and we drove 200 km away from Kristiansand. The police people knew about this. All of it. That we had a boat booked in Stavanger with 4 others a long time before the pandemic. That we were going to be on this boat and then drive back EXACTLY through the same town.
So I thought maybe we could pick up my passport on the way back. Since they already wasted 3 days of my vacation and also so we didn’t waste fuel driving back and forth for reasons that no one can explain in short words.
What do you think?
Of course they made me drive. I felt like this was a personal thing for someone there. If they can’t ruin my life, at least ruin one more day of my vacation.
Of course it was one more new person involved. Maybe it was the same person who talked to me on the phone the day before. But still. The total count of people that were involved with me and my weed was by then at 14.
But this is it. Now, after more than 6 months I haven’t even received a fine. I guess they got the part that they made me pay with my time and health.
14 people for 4 days were highly paid to do things described above for the sake of safety of their fellow society members.
Here we are. No call to action. Thanks for reading. Feel free to ask questions below or via email.
Here are the direct links to Lars’s websites: nudesnorway.com and milert.no
Here is his Fetlife
here is the link to see them
We’re here in the Algarve until the end of February, and we’re curious to get to know local kinky and queer folk. For that matter we’re setting a few dates to meet collaborators, lovers, friends and in general people who are curious just as we are.
I’m your mistress Sicut Dico. Gene is here with her immersive music, art, and more. We have a few friends along with us, who might be able to satisfy your other needs if the time comes for it.
We are currently based between Albufeira and Lisbon. We would love to know what locations are the most comfortable for you. We could meet at our villa, apartments, the beach, your place, or more. Just let us know!
There’s lots you can learn about what we do from our website and from the options below. We kindly ask you to fill out this form with the options that appeal to you most. Once we know what you’re into, we can get around to satisfying your needs.
(CW: nudity, politics, art)
This night was an immersive play in 4 acts and also a social experiment. The first two acts were unfortunately not documented due to organizational issues. But they remain in my memory and I’m sure also in the memories of those who were there that night.
I had a lot of people approaching me and telling me nice things, like that what I do is real art. It felt good at first. But then I saw how the money jar started filling up with coins, notes and.. business cards.
This part made me sad somehow. So I’d like to leave questions here. Why do some people think that their opinion is worth more than a few euros? Or is there something wrong with me?
I’m only here to bring up the questions no else can. That’s my power. The rest is yours.
That night I went to the club neither to not judge nxor ruin the party mood. I think I wanted answers for myself. I got them and feel grateful.
Photography: Manuel Calicchia
(Dear Manuel, thank you for your patience and will to make it work).
My brave sub was that night both a candle holder and a message carrier. I used their body to hold my laptop and display text slides. They also talked to the guests, played, and explained the slides to them, though at certain moments, this wasn’t an easy task at all.
Here you can see the slides that they displayed.
They also wrote this poem after. I think it can partially replace the missing pictures.
https://sicut-dico.com/2023/03/17/90-seconds-to-midnight/
Massive thanks to Let’Z Fetish Academy at Kitkatclub Berlin and Ari Denaro personally for letting me take care of the clinic, special thanks to Simon for rescuing the photographer for me, and to Elina and Lilith for being amazing, supportive, but also mean and hot AF!
My laptop de-branding sticker was designed by Maladie_tattoo.
All the money collected that night went to support Ukrainians. If you read until this point I wonder if you are curious about how much money we actually got.
I will tell you, I promise. But first I’m asking you to guess the number that you thin it is. Once you submit your guess, you’ll get the answer. What do you think of it?
Done. Didn’t manage to cover all the questions. Will try to continue tomorrow around the same time. Thanks a lot to everyone who joined. Here is the recording.
Darlings, my streaming equipment just refused to work for some time, but we are all set finally and starting in a few min! sorry for a delay
And the main topic is MONEY!
yay?
Yes, you can ask me how much I was paid for a piss and how I dared to ask for a 10k deposit. All of it.
This offer isn’t just a way for me to make some cash. It’s mainly to show others what’s possible.
Yes, this is both an act of self-presentation and an act of support for other sex workers and other artists trying to sell their work.
I don’t know exactly what the stream will look like. I can only guarantee one thing: no one has ever done this before.
So get down here around 4pm CEST tomorrow (20.12.2023) and let’s see where it goes.
(The offer is expired. No IRL meeting requests (update from 1.06.2024))
This post is primarily a photo gallery. To read more about us, you can click here for information.
I bet you want to see more of J’s photos, right? I would too. Enjoy!
J is a new-age geisha who loves to play as much as she loves to do shamanic sessions. She specializes in femdom, impact and wax play, electro games, and ropes.
Maybe we’ve piqued your curiosity?
There are so many ways to get to know J. Maybe you’d like a spanking? Or a tea ceremony, perhaps. Or both at the same time?
And since we’re here, here are a few photos of me as well, seeing as our collaborative offer is posted now
21.12. Soelden
22.12. Innsbruck
23-24.12. Zürich
25.12. Lugano
25-28.12. Milano, Florenz
29-31.12. Geneva
1.01. Montpellier
2.01. Barcelona
3.01. Madrid
8.01 – 30.01 – South of Portugal or southwest of Spain.
The whole month in Portugal. Plans to visit Faro, Lisbon, Porto, and everything in between.
Check How to buy me? and SuperXXXma$$ offer before reaching out.
What do you think is human’s worst fear? No, not the fear of death. Loneliness. We, people, tend to avoid being alone with the closest, most understanding and dearest person – yourself.
This year I have enough energy to fix the loneliness issue for at least a few lucky individuals or perhaps even couples.
Lifechanging experiences.
Authentic sensitivity. Sophisticated approach. Structured BDSM.
I hope you’ve noticed who I’m kissing in the photo. Meet my witch sister J.
I only met her a couple of months ago, and although we both grew up spanking tons of buts with loads of tools at LetzFetish Academy’s basement of Berlin’s Kitkatclub. So to not team up on the XXXmas adventure would be a crime against love.
For BDSM specifics, please check our fetlife profiles. This is mine. This is J’s. Just keep in mind that we are also so much more.
Click here for Dates and Locations.
alone we charge from 10000 EUR and, together – from 25000 EUR
Classic BDSM session, pre-session negotiation, security check, and of course aftercare. This is at least 10 hrs of our time in total, where half of it is preparation. Expect a lot of communication with us and our assistants to make your experience truly unique.
Because what we do is art. Also, we play like we’ve spent a few lives together.
We are not just special. We are everything you could dream about, but also professional and sensitive. Playing with your levels of dopamine, adrenaline, serotonin, and endorphin.
We are both good to start with if you are new to this, and a perfect match for those who have tried everything or are looking for a more tailored experience.
We request the deposit upfront. Direct bank transfer or crypto. We can provide you with an invoice or arrange full anonymity.
Send your requests for bank transfer details to bookings@sicut-dico.com
Send crypto to Coinbase Wallet @wallet976gnc34j5izfe
Don’t just say hey! Politely introduce yourself, specify the date, location, and other details.
After the deposit is paid and the date is secured you will have a direct chat with us and two of our assistants. There is no such thing as too much preparation for a session.
Hotel rooms and studios are to be paid extra.
Don’t think for too long – we have only a few slots by this year’s end. From the next one, the price will grow.
We guarantee the safety of your identity and full discretion. If you are sensitive to this topic, don’t hesitate to mention it. We help to take every precaution.
Don’t get scammed! We will never approach you on social media trying to sell our services. We don’t offer discounts, our assistants do not approach anyone with a sales offer. All our accounts are listed here, on this website.
The text below I sent to my lawyers in response to their “I hope everything went well” on my return from the outdoor performance that I call now the hammer message (that I went to deliver in person to the city of Prague’s police drugs department. Click here to read the message text)
“Everything went perfectly, I couldn’t have imagined it any better. I arrived barefoot with my poster hanging from a hammer, and I stood in front of the drugs department for almost 3 hours.
I hadn’t managed to prepare the Czech translation properly and had only used the text in English. So I expected very few people to understand my message. Maybe tourists, and they were really funny, some tried to give me money and realized that wasn’t the point.
However, I’m proud and impressed by the way people reacted to my message. I’m proud and impressed by the way the police treated me. I didn’t feel threatened, but many of them approached me. They also took photos from the windows. They smiled. One of them called what I had done a performance art and asked me if it was right to call it that. One of them said “Good luck”. Nobody spat in my face. Nobody told me to leave.
So I intend to come back with a version of my message in Czech and a slightly different structure of it.”
Calm. As if I’d done exactly what I had to do. I think that’s what you call being fulfilled. I wrote most of this the next day, but I decided to give it more time to see if I still feel that way later.
Yes, I still do.
I also feel grateful to myself for allowing this experience to happen. I think I’m still decoding what I learned that day. And for sure I’m still processing the feedback.
Here’s a first glimpse of what I have to share.
In the morning, the traffic wasn’t calm and I sensed a lot of anxiety in the driver. I told him I wasn’t in a hurry and when we arrived he was calmer than before. I suppose I took some of his anxiety with me.
I arrived at 9:08 AM. I was full of anxiety, but it wasn’t mine.
(I left home wearing flip-flops, but in a taxi, I immediately took them off and put them in my bag. Touching the ground with my naked soles was somehow calming me down.)
The first hour was the slowest, the easiest on my mind, and perhaps the hardest on my body. I chose the spot, took my hammer out of the bag, put the poster on it, and started to meditate on my breath to slow it down. I looked at the buildings, the trees, the windows, the cars, and the people.
I recognized smells and heard sounds, but above all, I concentrated my mind on a single task.
To stay as far away from judgment as possible. Just to observe and be there. I only wanted to bring the message. I was the message.
The first people to interact with me were tourists. They tried to give me money. A coin.
I wasn’t prepared for that at all. I didn’t accept the coin. They insisted a bit. Not verbally. They spoke German in front of me, assuming I couldn’t understand them. While I was thinking about what I could say to them in German, they left.
My body tensed up after that. The longer I stood there, the more uncertain I felt. I wasn’t cold, even though I was dressed very lightly, but I was frozen. I could feel different levels of anxiety from outside, absolutely everyone around me was more or less anxious, whereas in my mind alone I felt peacefully numb.
I saw a lawyer arriving late to an anxious client, people waiting for an appointment without knowing what was going to happen to them, people arriving and parking anxiously, forgetting things in their car, typing something on their phones.
How do I know that? Anxiety has a particular smell for me. It’s slightly bitter. I wish I could explain more.
At the time, I found it interesting to observe the extent to which anxiety allowed others to notice me. For example. The most anxious didn’t see me at all.
The construction workers smiled at me a lot. They were the calmest people I’d encountered there. And I started to smile back. And almost immediately I felt my body become lighter and stronger. That was the key.
I started smiling at windows, at people in cars, and even at grumpy faces.
When the first two people who obviously worked in one of the buildings came up to me and nodded, I smiled at them, probably like an idiot. They were standing in front of me and really reading my text, line by line, both of them.
I was ecstatic to have the chance to observe them so closely, but I also felt that my main aim at the time was to make them feel as comfortable as possible when reading my text. I tried to give them space and not stare at them all the time. It wasn’t easy. I was curious to see their reactions.
The later it got, the more people there were in the street and the more overwhelmed I felt.
My original idea was to change places every 30 minutes or so. But when I got to the second place, some lady came and told me I wasn’t supposed to be there.
So I moved 30 meters and realized I was in front of the drugs department. The universe had spoken. I changed my plan and stayed there for the rest of the time.
After 10 o’clock, the street really came alive. More clients and lawyers. More cars. More tourists. More anxiety.
I smiled at the windows and noticed that I was being photographed.
A lady from a nearby Kostel came up to me and said that we should find God together in church. I replied that I had already found God who had told me to be exactly where I was. To do what I was doing. I didn’t even feel weird saying that. I meant it. I still mean it.
The lady didn’t like my answer. She looked at me disappointed and walked away mumbling something unclear.
After 11 o’clock, I had to move back, closer to the wall of the building, so as not to disturb passers-by. Once or twice I had to ask people who stopped to read my message not to block the whole street. I knew I’d need a break soon. But the situation was getting more and more interesting.
I found it particularly fascinating to observe again and again how some people seemed to be eager to tell me what they were thinking, but when someone else approached, they stopped talking and walked away. As if they could only speak with me when no one else was close.
I left just before midday. At first, I thought I’d take a break and come back. But my body sent me a few clear signals that the show had to be over with that. And my mind agreed that we should come back with the message in Czech.
I think that was the most important thing I realized that day. It’s definitely the language I want to learn and speak.
I think that was the question that was asked the most that day. Not only from the people in uniform but also from strangers. Some asked me if it was personal. Had they done something for me? Or a friend of mine? One Canadian dude really tested my patience by asking me to tell him whether I was for or against the police.
I continued to say that I was there to serve art and love. And to point out that we don’t prosecute for tools like hammers, but we do for other tools like drugs.
We don’t have to be stupid squirrels. We have god-like technologies and tools already and acting rather medieval when it comes to regulating them. This can change. We just have to stop acting as if we know what’s right and wrong. We don’t. Not yet.
It was not an act of protest. Neither did I try to support anyone.
To be completely honest – I had no clue why I was doing it until it was done. Until I was there.
Or let’s say I know more than before. I needed this experience to understand my own strengths and weak spots even better. It was quite a therapy for me. Especially the feedback I received after.
Now I know I’m not alone for sure. I always thought so. But now I really know.
I’ll share more on this topic soon. Thank you for reading this. If you like what I’m doing consider supporting my work.
Photos by Paw Patrol. Proof-reading – Gene Bogolepov.
(CW: war, languages and nations)
The occupied territories will be returned to Ukraine.
Crimea will be returned to Ukraine.
All who owe will pay. Living and dead.
No one involved will be unaccounted for.
Here you can find out more about how to put the above into effect through a variety of actions.
This draft text was written on 30/09/2023. I know since then we got into another old war, but it doesn’t the one that is already up.
Well, and a little more to the power of words.
The car was handed over to 1uahmatters in August this year. At the beginning of the summer, I realised that it probably wouldn’t be possible to legalise the car, and I first joked in the lawyers’ office that if the car didn’t work legally in the Czech Republic, we’d give it to Ukraine and it would be fitted with a machine gun. Everyone laughed nervously, then moved on.
But I really liked the idea and it didn’t take two months to put words into action. I have to say that I’ve never parted with a car so easily and pleasantly. Even if, in the past, I had been given money for it. Thanks to everyone involved!
By the way, 1UAHMatters has set up a website where you can sign up to donate as little as 1 UAH. I won’t tell you what to do, but here’s the link.
As this post was originally written in Russian and is aimed directly at the audience who knew me in my previous life, some parts of the text lose meaning in translation, while others are already crystal clear to my English-speaking peeps here. However, there is an important metaphor. An important metaphor that I ask you to register in your mind. And to share your opinion if you wish.
Over the past year and a half, I’ve traveled Europe in a car with a terrorist state’s license plates along roughly from Tallinn to Stavanger and across, somewhere from Berlin to Athens.
There were all sorts of things.
For instance, I once talked to a “Russian” who was born in Estonia, now lives in Norway, has never been to Russia, but speaks basic Russian, and is very worried that somehow he is not very well-liked around for his Russianness. I remember thinking then, what does he have in common with Russia apart from the language?
At moments I thought I could write a book. “How I found and lost faith in humanity 42 times before I realised what was wrong with the cycle itself.” But I got over it and the book was cancelled. It wasn’t about humanity at all. And it wasn’t even about me. I thought for a while longer that it was about the language. Russian oc. And I was wrong, too.
But after a dozen meetings with Russians of varying degrees of aggression in different parts of Europe, something began to hit me.
The problem is languages per se. More precisely, many people lack the ability or experience to think in different languages. To feel the nuances of culture through them. One language locks people into bizarre cages where culture and tradition are intertwined with trauma and identity issues. I’ve written and spoken about this before.
The cage, in which these very minds have been locked up for the last hundred years, has been turned into an isolated horror bunker, slowly filled up with some moderately toxic gas. The inhabitants of this bunker/cage are convinced that you can’t turn the gas off, you can only change it to a more lethal one, so you have to put up with this one. And so they do.
WHY? NOBODY KNOWS ANYMORE. SOME TOLERATE IT OUT OF FEAR SOME OUT OF HABIT
That, by the way, was the bad news right now, and overall the saddest and most dramatic part of the post. You’re doing great if you’re still reading. I’m proud of you!
The good news is that I’ve met a lot more people who speak Russian by birth but also speak two or three or more other languages, who have managed to turn off the gas and get out of that cage. And I continue to meet them — almost every day.
Except that, we often don’t speak the terrorist state’s language with them. Otherwise, sometimes the gas starts unexpectedly, so we have to ventilate the room. Uncomfortable.
This language is simply punished on my end, for one thing. And sometimes it’s just impractical.
It only means there won’t be many russian texts. I still speak it, especially with some of my loved ones. Many topics are important to me, I just don’t live in the realm of the russian language. This is primarily a matter of my mental health and productivity.
***
As to a key takeaway – there’s none. But there is a hint, nevertheless: Only love, compassion, and cooperation can bring us forward.
Today I can definitely say only one thing: every free person with pocket money right now can make a donation of one UAH. And it will definitely help people who are dying right now for the freedom of the very knowledge that you can switch off the gas.
Publisher/Editor: Gene Bogolepov