Yesterday was a day of technical misery and frustration; I was too ambitious about my plans and didn’t think everything through.
So the issue was, that from two cameras only one was recording š. We will try again next week to make a proper tutorial for patrons.
But for now, I just squeezed the 20 minutes into a single one, so we all can enjoy the butt of my lovely friend Lishkaš, who actually tried waxplay for the first time yesterday!
Also, she could confirm that some of the candles are pretty mild. On the edge of boring. So we’re looking to fix that š„for the next time too.
June’s reflection brought me to not only publish that nude yoga video (June’s reflection part 1) for public observance but also to write this appreciation post, where I want to say a massive
THANK YOU
to the people who supported me with my exploration journey in 2022.
First of all
Thank you, Patrons! Without you believing in me at the beginning of this year, I wouldn’t be able to gather the inner resources to do what I eventually did.
The reflection project is my attempt to make my blog better structured and more consistent. But I feel like it’s a great investment in life for people like me, who like to live fast and devalue our own achievements. It feels good to slow down, breathe, and look back.
For the door to the kinky Narnia backstage of Let’Z Fetish Academy that you so kindly opened for me, and thanks for supplying me with tools and techniques as well.
Ari Denaro is showing how things are done. You can see me trying to compete in the background.
But most of all, thank you for accepting me for who I am, accepting my ways, and the ethics that I carry. Thank you for your free spirit, curiosity, and will to understand new.
I’m grateful for your trust. But you know this already. So just fucking big ass thank you, dear Ari!
for the amazing headpiece, for being an even more amazing friend, and for all your talent and help! I can’t wait for the next round of creating something together.
The outfit for Psycho Dark party in June that you see in the gallery below was done by Julia. I think I’d like to wear it more next year, I like I how it makes me feel. If you go to Ari’s website you can see more pictures from Psycho parties btw.
It’s always a pleasure to deal with you, and thank you for being so sweet.
Here is the gallery. Enjoy!
Thank you, beautiful Ćngela. You were such a pleasure!
Since I started naming people, I’m not sure exactly how to stop. It’s so many of you, my dear friends and lovers, to whom I want to scream: THANK YOU FOR BEING IN MY LIFE.
But let’s make a deal. I’ll name the Slut, Gene, and Sil because I already introduced them here and they are my closest family. Thank you, darlings, just for who you are.
I also have to name Shanti and Kay, because they are involved in the recent posts. Shanti gave me an Interview about hooks and ropes, and Kay was once a very cool creative partner in crime I used her pictures to illustrate another post (Born weird) that I decided to make public this year.
So the rest of the deal is that I stop naming people I want to thank, so we can all have our lives. And you start clicking on the links and getting to know me a bit better. Because that was the whole plan.
Support my blog if you like the content. I’m planning to have a few days off from posting now, and come back with fresh nudes and stories. I still have so much to tell!
This one is intimate. I’m giving you the view that only my husband could enjoy, and he said he very much enjoyed it, along with his morning coffee, back in my old flat in Berlin.
So I suspect some of you might enjoy it as wellš.
For the exhibitionist inside me, my balcony in Berlin was an excellent place to get some relatively safe exposure on a daily basis.
And nude yoga was an excellent recharging practice for me. I still remember the cold wind on my private parts. It felt so nice! And right now, I’m really missing that feeling.
I did this more than once, but only once I filmed myself. Later I had no idea what to do with this video, not for the whole year.
(CW: nudity, self reflection from march 2022 written a year after)
Let’s begin with the reflection session results this time. I started with taking pictures. I tried different angles, but the look from the bottom seems to be one of my favorites.
In the process, I decided to spank myself a little. Mostly to make that slow-mo video, but also to get a reminder about the sensations that I give to others. It felt good.
Another video was originally just to choose some snap-shots from, but I like how real I am there.
Now let’s get to the story I have after reflecting on March 2022
Pain and pleasure essentially are the same thing. Sensations. Sometimes we forget about this fact. But it’s all in our heads. I had a painful butt for a week in March, and I enjoyed every day of it hurting just because it was my decision to get that damage.
We humans are very funny creatures indeed. Every time I sat down I was feeling the pain, but I liked it, and even now, after almost a year I feel a lot of positive emotions about that pain. No memories attached, really. It just felt good.
It was a roller coaster month otherwise. I had absolutely incredible experiences, and the darkest moments of this year as well, all mixed up.
I started Patreon, but kept writing in russian, and even though I already understood that it had to stop, I kept following the old program. I guess I was just not able to not write about some things.
On the positive side – I got better at finding adventures for my ass. I met Ari and started using Fetlife. More of my fantasies became actions. For the first impact play workshop, I chose to go for a switching session, and not only tried all popular spanking devices that are offered by Let’Z Fetish Academy at Kitkatclub but got a nicely bruised butt with exactly the same choice of tools back. The results you can see below.
But this was my fun life
My real life continued falling apart. Most of my income directly involved russia. I had a European franchise business there, I was consulting on marketing and business strategy, basically, I was a bridge between the modern western world, where I lived and consumed information, and the post-Soviet purgatory, that had just opened the gates to hell.
Balancing those two lives brought me questions.
Which one is real?
Which one should be real?
Can I make a living out of blogging about all this?
The concept of the blog I had before seemed like a setup to failure. (I had about 8000 followers of russian-speaking audience on Instagram, where I was posting about keto food and open marriage experiences, but that was more of a side project for me to digest emotions and feel seen.)
What do I have to offer? I knew I like to be seen, and I like to interact with an audience. I was craving the excitement of playing with them, and being in control of the game. I fantasized about the attention of many. Not necessary to like me. But to notice me. Acknowledge me Feel something. But fantasies and reality are not easy things to connect, so I’m glad I believed in myself enough to follow the art of small steps and explore what it brings.
launching Patreon was not a spontaneous desigion. I blogged already for a few years (in Russian of course) on InstagramI liked blogging, but I didn’t want to be trapped in one platformThe adventures of my ass continued, I was crazy to share that experience with other, my audience in the blog I had back then wasn’t ready to see the next pictureThat’s not how popular Instagram content looks like. At least from the perspective of the majorityHere I’m celebrating the launch of Patreon and still trying to ignore the language issue I’m trapping myself inMoments of sadness are there too, but I keep planing adventures, just with a sad facecat recovered after covid and went into siren mode screaming at the door every day. So I took him for a walk along the wallthe bruises are with me for the rest of the monthI start playing with different cameras and my head start generating ideas for cam showsSharing the lovers with other lovers turns out to be extra fun. But not without dramaone of the sunny mornings, when I woke up and started writing a text right awayThe world is falling apart, but at least I’m taking care of myselfGene is just being fabulous and always there to help with my dramaAm I a pimp now? Do I like this idea? Fuck yesMe and the cat looking into the future with hopetelling Gene about my pimping career and bruised buttHard to explain why this picture makes me smile, but it does and it reflects the mood I had in March 22, so here it stays
February was a disaster month. The first half of it I was battling post-covid depression and weakness in my body, and just when I started climbing out of it, the war started. I wanted to die from that virus. I had so many plans and hopes that crashed. But also so many doubts that just received concrete solid confirmations of the worst. Workwise, I was utterly unhappy. I had a lot of projects, but they all seemed pointless. Stupid games, where the only factor that mattered was money.
I realized that wasting my life in order to just chase money or do something else with it was actually in the range of my control. It had to be something else. But the reality was brutal and dark. The world seemed to be all about money. Or the power that money brings.
How the fuck do other people not freak out about this as much as I do? Why does everyone seem to find it all somehow acceptable? Am I the only crazy one?
The day after the war started, I went on a date. On the way, I thought it was a shitty idea. I was empty. But that date was a blast, I swear I had nothing like this before. It felt like I opened some magical door in my body: all the sensations got an upgrade. Every orgasm was stronger than another and I didn’t feel overstimulated. In fact, I wanted to have the levels of stimulation that my sensitive body was never ready to experience before. I sort of managed to relax into it. I don’t know how many times I came that evening, it would be foolish of me to even attempt to count. And at some point, of course, it stopped..
My legs were shaking for an hour afterwards. The best I could do was a joke that I probably overdosed myself on sex for a few days. But I came home and realized that I was horny again. Another thing I remember thinking, looking in the mirror: I was happy.
Happy, horny, and ashamed of it.
I think I was kinda ashamed of that horniness. Good thing I had my therapist. Together we accepted the positive truth: it felt good. And that was the most important thing. As if my body decided to give a reward for all the stress and sadness it had endured.
So I can almost say I was prescribed to have good sex for mental health reasons. I think it was a very good trick. Almost like it wasn’t my decision, because I wasn’t exactly sure if I deserved happiness. I mean this kind of happiness, especially.
Why not?
I didn’t realize that I was still so attached to Russia and the mentality that it programs into people. That shame of horniness was definitely a gift from my past. I was still trapped in the concept of being “a good girl”.
And good girls are not horny all the time, and they definitely don’t plan their life around sex events.
But are good girls happy?
feeling alive 5 min a day after shower. The rest of the time rather miserableforcing myself to go for short walks and planing dates with loverscolorful hair as a part of therapyberlin sends messagesfinally the coat gets to go out. The top on the photo is covering tits, but I planned to put it down laterdigesting the party experience and documenting nipple stickerstelling Gene the squirt shower story*selfie on the day before the war24.02.22going to see the slutjoining other people from former soviet countries to process what’s going onfor me the protest walk didn’t feel like a protest. More like a funeral possession: completely useless for the cause of event, but somehow necessary for everyone aroundI think somewhere here I started seriously thinking about working with Gene. Before we were just friends that got close during the pandemic years
…happened shortly before the war. Since I wanted to visit more venues that hosted kinky parties, one of my lovers invited me to a club I’d never been to. We planned that date for quite some time, tickets were bought online, and the process of choosing the outfits and discussing other details was one of the pleasant things that month, actually helping me to feel better. Pink hair also wouldn’t have happened without that party plan.
I was sharing this story with my followers on TG, but back then I was still writing mostly in russian. That was the only text I wrote in English that month. I think I didn’t really understand how hard it is to just switch languages. But I’m glad I didn’t understand that back then, it didn’t stop me from taking the small steps forward. It is worth the struggle.Ā
January 2022 was full of unsexy shit. I went to Russia to see my mom and got Covid on the way back. Itās harder for me to feel sexy in a country where the oppression of sexuality is part of the ideology. The air I breathe there reminds me that I simply donāt belong. I noticed people looking at me like they were scared, or in the best case, frustrated.
But I managed to make that trip not so awful in the end: I went snowboarding, had a lot of massages and good food, and ordered some tailored clothes for going out. Thatās what I want to focus on for today.
I ordered not just regular clothes, but a few sexy outfits that I specifically planned to wear at sex parties and similar events. That action was extremely empowering. Iām not sure if I understood exactly in January how much I had invested in myself, but Iām glad it happened.
I was talking to the tailor (a friend, and a client of mine) about the purpose of the items and she asked me a question. What do I do when I go to those places? What is happening there? She was extremely curious about details and honestly, I didnāt know what to say.
I didnāt really know myself yet.
The best way I could phrase the answer at that moment was this:
I like to be seen naked. Or half naked. Show my tits to be precise
I like the attention that I get from people. I like the thrill of preparing for the partyā thinking things through in my head, defining boundaries, and searching for curiosity peaks.
The longer I was questioning every bit of morality that I grew up with, the more I could see how quickly the power of social prejudices faded in my eyes. Iāve enjoyed the results quite a lot. Back then I was still afraid of what would come out of me, but I knew I owed myself this exploration.
And you know what happens when you tell people you are into sex clubs? They start telling you their own personal things. I donāt know if itās a general rule or it just works that well for me, but I get many personal stories from many different people. And this kind of information helped me tremendously to accept myself through understanding how different we all are.
Getting the clothes specifically designed for being naked made me feel grown up and powerful. As if I owned the world. I knew already from my business experience that a good suit or a good dress can make you feel stronger. When we like ourselves, itās easier to believe in ourselves.
To feel real
So for my first reflection session, I wanted to wear those items and film myself. Here are some screenshots from the result.
Originally I just wanted a funny and easy-to-wear coat to have something warm and blanket-like for parties. But the tailor specialized in suits, and her new collection samples were in the showroom. I tried the red suit and fell in love with it. One of my subpersonalities always wanted to look like this. I think it needs some leather or latex accessories, but I have no plans to wear it with a shirt or anything else under it. Just naked skin. And my tits.
I think itās important to understand that in January I would not yet put the fetish label on myself openly: I was too scared of it. I was just exploring my sexuality! The whip was stored in a box under my bed, and I would never have believed anyone if they told me that by the end of the year I would use that whip publicly not just once, but in a few European capitals. And that people would give me money to get whipped!
No fucking way I would believe that!
Life is funny. What can I say? In the gallery below you can see some pictures from that time. I didnāt meet my kinky lovers that month, I think I only had good old home sex and nothing else, but the thought processes in my head were all about planning and arranging new experiences with other horny sexually open people in the future.
snowboarding definitely makes me happy. Even when equipment is falling apartfirst of Januarythe food is niceselfcare is cheapand sun is warmnew haircut was a mistake, but I like bleached hairguitar and organ concert. Loved itcoat making processthis lunch probably costed me covidsecond half of the month was so so, but I change my hair color againa lot of time in bed, and not the right kind of bed timethe cat got sick too, poor fucker was sneezing a lost his sences of taste and smell
Apparently, this was the most boring month of the year, especially if we try to look at it from the sexy POV.
note from myself in 2024
It was my last visit to a terrorist country where I obviously didn’t want to see what was already visible. No one sane wanted to see that in January 2022. However. The fascism was already there. Everyone just preferred to look the other way. I guess this is exactly how fascism is being cooked in the end. Enough good people just need to stay ignorant.
So how is this connected to the point we have started with? Well. I hope this at least serves as an introduction of my background, but the bigger mission behind is to explain why cant I simply stay away from politics? At least in this blog that was supposed to be about me exploring “the realms of sexuality”.
It simple for me. We can’t afford staying away from politics because it is the only way to prevent fascists from taking over. I’ll try to explain more on the way.
Preaching event with Bogolepova. Kinksters friendly event
FREE EVENT * / Donations welcome
* registration needed! Please email us in order to secure a place on the guest list. by writing to this email (newsletter[at]bogolepov.eu) you confirm that you agree to receive emails from us
Now you know where to find me on Thursdays in Prague.
Sil found this place on the internet. But one of my friends told me about it too. So we wrote them an email and met the management. And yesterday I finally met the audience!
It felt like a very fast night, I had home-like tasting food, pet one very cuddly kitty after, looked at some bloody nudes on someone’s phone, while testing new candles and the playground equipment, and had a lot of sugar-free mate. I felt safe and welcome. I hope we cleaned after the wax-play well enough, I promise to be less messy in the future!
We will organize an event in this place in March. Something very queer.
Follow me on FetLife for events and dates announcements. If you live in Prague and would like to collaborate with me, send an email to sil@sicut-dico.com.
For my patrons there’s another post with 3 minutes of video where I play with candles and try to whip the person and film at the same time. Works so-so, looks funny though.
I was postponing this post for a while because I wanted it to be perfect. But friendship is not about being perfect, itās about staying in touch and helping each other to move forward.
Same for teamwork. This post continues the āabout meā storyline. I donāt function without people. And I decided to start with one, who is getting more helpful every day and making the blog finally live its life. I hope this post will get her some appreciation that she deserves.
Sil is my assistant. We met on tinder, and she is fantastic! She covers my calendar, content production flow, supplies for our candle factory, brings food, and gives me massages. The bitter part about Sil ā she is a refugee from Ukraine with children and our work isā¦ letās call it hectic. So we try to structure the task flow and use email for this purpose a lot.
Btw if I took pictures of you during our session and you still didnāt get them, or we have another kind of unfinished business ā please send your request to
sil@sicut-dico.com
This post is only to start mentioning the people who help me to create this blog and make other things happen. For now, I just list them and link their websites or social media, if such exist, and later Iāll tell you more about each one of them one by one:
In November, when this post was published and I only started working with Sil – we were preparing to survive the hell season for me.
This time I was somehow extra irritated by the hallmark teddy bear postcard aesthetics and ended up asking people on social media: if they could create their own kind of postcards that reflect their true feelings, what would they write on that postcard? What would be The Message to send or to receive?
I got a lot of different answers. Way too many to pick one or 10. So the solution was obvious to me.
The best message is the one that works for you. So it had to be personal.
Image drawn by Sil’s daughter on one of my notes and used as a base for the postcard generator, which is going to be available to play with on canbed.one
Since I like to make things complicated you won’t get the full story of this project right away. Here I only introduce a new team member – Sasha Whiteorcherstra, welcome on board! Soon Sasha will explain the details behind the image on the postcard and perhaps some other mysteries too.
CW: longread, russia, strong personal opinion, (+ full gallery unedited Milk bath by Kay Hues)
I was born in Siberia, in a town with 700 000 population, but so conservative that the word “bisexual” I learned somewhere in my twenties already in Saint-Petersburg.
While living in my hometown, I knew that there are gays and lesbians, and both things are “bad”, I knew that I didn’t fit into both, nor did I fit into “normal” teen society. I didn’t call them straight people back then. I didn’t have the concept yet. I just knew: I didn’t fit. I could feel it almost every day.
Snowboarders accepted me somehow when I was around 12-13 and, damn, it was a great part of my life since then! I was I weirdo, but thanks to snowboarding – I was a cool one. Also hanging out with older cool snowboarders made me an unpleasant target for bullies. Not without my help of course.
Very early I learned to use reputation instead of actual fists and to anticipate the fight or start it first but on my own terms instead of ignoring or avoiding possible attacks on my weirdness.
Back then I hated it. The weirdness I mean. I WANTED SO FUCKING MUCH TO BE JUST NORMAL. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t understand why everyone is so serious and fixed on their gender roles.
Why should I date guys if I’m attracted to girls too?
Is it just me?
What happens if they know that I’m pretending to be one of them, but I’m actually not?
Why do I feel so much?
The only thing keeping me sane throughout my first 16 years of life was traveling and my mom helping me to see the world. She was taking me to different countries and different places abroad. Not just to resorts and beaches, but to capitals, museums, flea markets, theatres, and other places where I could interact with different cultures.
The magical part about this kind of traveling was that I also realized quite early – weird is not always bad. The world is huge and full of different things.
I was far from accepting my own weirdness, but I could enjoy the weirdness of other people. And It was giving me hope.
When I turned 17 I moved “to the cultural capital” as I liked to call it back then. It was 2003, and it felt amazing after the village where I grew up.
The bookstore on Nevsky had more than 5 kinds of gay magazines. No one gave a fuck. I was however very confused about my personal interest in gay magazines.
They WERE CLEARLY NOT MEANT FOR ME. Why was I so attracted then?
If I ever write a proper memoir, the chapter about my life in Saint Petersburg should probably be called:
ME, TRYING TO LIVE A NORMAL LIFE, AND FAILING AT EVERY STEP.
To some people’s standards, I could even call myself successful. I got my first flat. Then another one. I worked in the fashion industry and met some famous people. I had a relationship. Nice one to some people’s standards.
But I was utterly unhappy. It all just felt wrong.
