Sicut-Dico

Category: Nudes

  • March raw reflection

    (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 Instagram
    I liked blogging, but I didn’t want to be trapped in one platform
    The 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 picture
    That’s not how popular Instagram content looks like. At least from the perspective of the majority
    Here I’m celebrating the launch of Patreon and still trying to ignore the language issue I’m trapping myself in
    Moments of sadness are there too, but I keep planing adventures, just with a sad face
    cat recovered after covid and went into siren mode screaming at the door every day. So I took him for a walk along the wall
    the bruises are with me for the rest of the month
    I start playing with different cameras and my head start generating ideas for cam shows
    Sharing the lovers with other lovers turns out to be extra fun. But not without drama
    one of the sunny mornings, when I woke up and started writing a text right away
    The world is falling apart, but at least I’m taking care of myself
    Gene is just being fabulous and always there to help with my drama
    Am I a pimp now? Do I like this idea? Fuck yes
    Me and the cat looking into the future with hope
    telling Gene about my pimping career and bruised butt
    Hard 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 raw reflection

    (Trigger warning: suicide and war topic)

    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 miserable
    forcing myself to go for short walks and planing dates with lovers
    colorful hair as a part of therapy
    berlin sends messages
    finally the coat gets to go out. The top on the photo is covering tits, but I planned to put it down later
    digesting the party experience and documenting nipple stickers
    telling Gene the squirt shower story*
    selfie on the day before the war
    24.02.22
    going to see the slut
    joining other people from former soviet countries to process what’s going on
    for 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 around
    I think somewhere here I started seriously thinking about working with Gene. Before we were just friends that got close during the pandemic years
    *The squirt shower story

    …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. 

    As I say

  • January 2022 reflection

    (CW: politics, nudity, strong personal opinion, long texts, intense and sensual music)

    January 2022 was full of unsexy shit. I went to Russia to see my mom and got Covid on the way back. It’s 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 don’t 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. That’s 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. I’m not sure if I understood exactly in January how much I had invested in myself, but I’m 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 didn’t know what to say.

    I didn’t 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 party— 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. I’ve 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 don’t know if it’s 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, it’s 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 it’s 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 didn’t 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 apart
    first of January
    the food is nice
    selfcare is cheap
    and sun is warm
    new haircut was a mistake, but I like bleached hair
    guitar and organ concert. Loved it
    coat making process
    this lunch probably costed me covid
    second half of the month was so so, but I change my hair color again
    a lot of time in bed, and not the right kind of bed time
    the 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.

  • Instagram just removed this story, so it will be here

    Since I spent a few minutes creating it

    Slutty Link

  • Naked mirror selfie

    I have tons of those pictures on my phone. Taking nude selfies appears to be good practice for me, it helps with my mood.

    Today I had a very unpleasant Monday with very unsexy business, and I’m not saying that nudes can fix that, but it’s a good distraction for me now. Plus I’ll use this series of selfies as an example to explain more about how I deal with the content.

    This text as a full story will be only available to the patrons, but bits of it I’ll throw to different social media because I want people to understand how things work.

    All the content first goes to this website. In this case, I have complete control of it, also I can lock parts of content behind the paywall and by that express my gratitude to you, the people who support me. It’s also about trust. You trust me with your money, I trust you to see everything raw.

    So here we have a gallery of 40 pictures and a video that I made of them quickly.

  • Atelier 01 (full photo gallery)

    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.

  • Born weird

    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.

    Fake. Sad and pointless. 

    As if I didn’t live my life, but someone else’s.

    …

    Photos by Kay Hues

  • Who owns the world?

    Trigger warning: suicide thoughts mentioned.

    When I was a kid, I thought the world belongs to adults. At least adults behaved like it’s true: they could make their own decisions and had the authority to tell others what to do. I wanted to be one.

    Later I started thinking that the world belongs to men. Or at least they behaved as if it did belong to them. I even joined their shitty competition for success and wealth. For a bit, it actually felt like money can give me the power to shift that balance. But I never managed to have enough to fully feel it. I got stuck in limbo, I could literally watch how it got harder and harder to earn money (because that’s how capitalism works), so my self-esteem for a while was tightly attached to my income. If I was successful – I felt like I deserve my place in the world, but I could never stabilize this status. I felt like I’m running behind the train, I still could see it, but I couldn’t catch it.

    The worst part was always: dealing with authorities. Anyone official with the power to question me was making me feel small and insignificant. It never stopped me from getting things done, I started my own business when I was 19 and didn’t bribe a single person while running multiple companies in Russia for more than 10 years. Or 15? Depends on how we count, it’s kinda a lot anyway. This whole time I felt like I had to prove myself worthy almost every fucking day. What a cute idiot I was, huh?

    When I left Russia, I thought it would be over. But different issues appeared. In Germany: I didn’t speak German, I didn’t have a proper job (I’m self-employed my whole life), didn’t have a single paper about my education (everything I know I’ve learned by myself). Once again I felt like an imposter, that must prove the opposite as soon as possible, or I’ll be expelled.

    I have had suicidal thoughts since I’m 20. I never tried to kill myself just because I know that I’ll succeed. I’m too afraid of causing pain to people who care for me. And I was always lucky enough to have a lot of them in my life, so I keep breathing.

    I’m telling you all this not to ask for your pity. This is my way of fighting back. I don’t want to show you my strong side without introducing you to the weak one first.

    I had no idea that I was an HSP. People were telling me, that I was too emotional, and taking things too personally, getting angry over nothing, and creating drama where there is none… Don’t get me wrong: people keep telling me this also now. The difference is that now I know that it’s not me who is broken, it’s the world. This small knowledge changes so much.

    If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please seek out help, here is the link. And please remember: You are not alone.

    I’ll be unfolding the pain of dealing with some very basic things, like bureaucracy and… well, how to phrase it? Capitalism, I guess. I wish to let you see how it ALL feels.

    What I am offering you here is to look into my soul along with my crotch. I wonder how many of you are actually brave enough to do this in the long run. I can promise to sweeten the pill with some hot and pervy content that I create for my Patrons. Since this creative process actually makes me feel whole.

    As if the world belongs to me.

    This is the first post out of 10 that I prepared to be available for free on this website and will publish by the end of the year. Besides personal stories and nudes, there will be an interview about ropes and hooks with Shanti, my first private-play-almost-porn video, short clips from my club sessions, 20 minutes of me doing naked yoga on my legendary balcony in Berlin, and some other weird stuff that I find interesting.

    Follow me on social media for updates, share my posts, and spread the word about my project if it speaks to you. I want to be seen. I’m ready.

    Let’s get to the crotch part already!

    edited pics

    My husband took those pictures of me and my cat in our Berlin flat when one of my lovers wanted to borrow some outfits and I volunteered to model. I edited a few of them first, but then I questioned myself: what for? I hope you appreciate this kind of intimacy. 

    unedited home nudes
    unedited home nudes
    unedited home nudes
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022
    unedited home nudes, Berlin 2022

    thank you for your attention, support me on Patreon to unlock other content 😉

    your Sicut

  • KitKat alien birthday – pictures & videos

    This party definitely deserves a longer story. It was a private party with free entrance. Someone just bought the basement and us as entertainment. The first gallery and videos are mine. Below there is another gallery by Elad Itzkin Photography.

    Elad Itzkin Photography

  • sexy-couple (letzfetish-guests)

    One of my first nights alone in Kitkat’s basement and this couple really made it cheesy hot!

    They were happy to have pictures and a session with me, and I felt like I did things right that night. I’m especially grateful for the permission to publish the very exact moments. It was a pleasure to meet you guys!

    Huge thanks to Ari for the trust to keep Let’Z Fetish station warm and safe.

    UPD. Now looking back at this night I feel the need to add a remark, expressing how uncertain I was at that moment with everything else in my life. That was the role where I could feel confident and appreciated. For the beginner me it meant the world.

    I think I can pretty much call that a career choice acceptance moment. Once again, thanks to everyone involved. I’m glad to have my perverted family growing every day.