12 Days of Girly Juice 2017: 12 Femme Essentials

December is here, and therefore, so is 12 Days of Girly Juice, my year-end wrap-up series! In the next month, I’ll summarize my whole year in selfies, sex toys, sexual encounters, tweets, and more. But today, we begin with a subject that’s dear to my heart: beauty and fashion! Here are my top 12 must-have femme items of 2017…

Giorgio Armani Rouge d’Armani lipstick in “Lucky Red”

Last November, I went to Rome with my mom, and it was momentous. All day every day, we walked around that ancient city soaking up world-famous sights. It was almost too much beauty and history to handle, and made me feel like I was buzzing right out of my body with deep glee and meaning.

One day, we visited the Spanish Steps. Sitting on those stairs surrounded by other tourists, I felt called to buy something that would remind me of this place. I didn’t want gimmicky miniatures or boring old postcards, so I did what any consumerist femme would do: I walked into Sephora. (Yes, there is a Sephora opposite the Spanish Steps. Yes, it is a strange, anachronistic place. It’s like femme purgatory: surreal and always bustling and highly unlikely.)

I wanted a lipstick, since that’s the cosmetic item I use most often and also the one I associate most with glamour. I figured it would make me happy in subsequent months to be able to think of said lipstick as a souvenir from glorious Rome, and to tell people that when they asked about it. Suitably, the one I went with was by Italian brand Giorgio Armani. It’s a cool-toned, bright red that makes me feel like a 1950s movie star or a high-gloss spy. It goes on satiny and dries to a slightly more matte crimson that stays put better than almost any other lipstick in my arsenal (which it damn well better, for $43). It’s my favorite red lipstick I’ve ever owned, and I have owned a lot. And that mystique only has a little to do with where I bought it.

Coach turnlock tote in turquoise crossgrain leather

I bought this on sale for half-price last holiday season, and it has served me well all year long. Not only is it the most aggressively, delightfully vivid shade of turquoise I’ve ever seen, it’s also roomy enough for almost all my various adventures. I’ve taken it as an overnight bag to sex-dates at beaux’ houses, as my carry-on when shuttling back and forth between Toronto and New York, and as a gig bag when en route to photoshoots or porn-y events that required wardrobe changes. It has lots of pockets, which I tend to stuff with extra tissues, mints, love notes, bobby pins, lipsticks, vibrators, business cards, supplements, and lube samples. It’s my dream bag and I adore it.

Tarina Tarantino heart necklaces

I have three of these now: one small purple/green/turquoise one, one larger one emblazoned with Queen Alice, and (my favorite) one giant pink sparkly one that attracts stares and compliments wherever I go. I bought the Alice necklace direct from the company during a sale, and snapped up the other two on eBay, since they seem to have been discontinued. They make me happy every damn time I wear them.

My heart necklaces function like day collars for me: they sit heavily around my neck, grounding me, reminding me of how good I am, keeping me on task. In times of emotional turmoil, they also feel like shields for my heart, deflecting negative energy and keeping me safe. I hope to collect a couple more – maybe a blue one and a black one – because we all need more sparkly hearts in our lives!


It’s hard to pick a specific perfume here, because I’ve loved so many this year! Under the influence of The Dry Down, a mega-poetic newsletter about the philosophical and emotional side of perfume, I started buying perfume samples galore to try out. This is much cheaper than committing to full bottles of particular scents, and also makes more sense with the mercurial way I tend to fall in love with a perfume for a while, then move on to a different one.

Some of my 2017 fragrance faves: John Varvatos, a spicy, masc-leaning gourmand. Leatherstock, which smells like straight-up leather and which I like to combine with other scents for an extra kinky dimension. Tom of Finland, which is like pressing your nose against the pheromone-laden skin of someone attractive and comforting. Memoirs of a Trespasser, the scent of a rugged, babely adventurer come back home to roost. Carnal Flower, which smells like (per Helena Fitzgerald) “monied femininity.” Good Girl, a somewhat heavy, almost overbearingly feminine scent that reminds me of slutty honey. And most recently, Noel au Balcon, a hyper-festive wintertime scent that reminds me of cloves, oranges, honey, and the champagne-fizzy excitement of a tipsy conversation with an interesting stranger at a holiday party.

H&M skater dresses

H&M did a wonderful thing this year: they made what is basically the perfect dress, as far as I’m concerned, and released it in 15+ different colors and prints. Best of all, they priced each dress at $15.

I own said dress in 10+ different colorways now, and they get more wear than practically anything else in my closet. They’re just exactly what I want from a dress: comfortable, flattering, versatile. This year I wore them on dates, to shows, in photoshoots. I danced in them, kissed in them, partied in them, even occasionally fucked in them. They are perfection and I’m so glad I stocked up.

Yo Sox

Last month, I settled in for a phone sex session with a handsome gentleman, and he asked me – as phone sex suitors are wont to do – what I was wearing. I’d promised to wear something nice for him, something that made me feel sexy, even if he wouldn’t actually be seeing it. “I’m wearing a T-shirt, some panties, and a pair of kneesocks,” I told him, truthfully. He made a sound that was half-gasp, half-growl. I smiled.

My enduring love for knee-high and thigh-high socks comes partly from the predictable reaction they get out of many men, and partly from how they make me feel in my kinky little heart. When I’m putting together an ensemble designed to make me feel like a babygirl, girly socks are a vital part of the look. This year I discovered Yo Sox, a company that sells whimsical socks both online and in their brick-and-mortar store on Toronto’s Queen Street West, and I swiftly fell in love. It’s hard to feel sad when there are unicorns or whales prancing across your feet!

Tiny black shorts

Another H&M acquisition, I bought these minuscule shorts for $15 on an impulsive shopping trip in April. They ended up being a go-to for me all summer, garnering tons of compliments and making me feel cute in a way I rarely feel when my chubby bod is being shown off so flagrantly. They work well with crop tops, bralettes, and even over tights for a more cool-weather-appropriate outfit. I even wore them a lot while mired in post-breakup depression, because they felt effortless and accommodating.

BH Cosmetics Smokey Eyes palette

I didn’t do full-on fancy faces as often this year as I have in previous years, because frankly, most of the time I just couldn’t be bothered. But I did buy this eyeshadow palette on the recommendation of a femme friend, and it has served me well for many dress-up occasions this year.

The deep blues and purples flatter my hazel eyes. The silvers and greys allow for striking smoky looks. The pinks fulfill my deepest femme desires. In summation: this palette rules.

BH Cosmetics spooley brush

Another great find from this cosmetics company: the best eyebrow brush I’ve ever used. I’ve written before about Anastasia Dipbrow, my go-to brow product, but I’ve neglected to mention the importance of the brush you use to apply it: Dipbrow is finicky as hell and you gotta have your tools on point. This one has a spooley (i.e. eyebrow comb) on one side and an angled application brush on the other, so I can flip back and forth quickly between shaping my brows and filling them in. I use this every day and it has made my makeup routine both more efficient and more joyful!

Danier vintage leather jacket

Leather was important to my aesthetic this year. In fact, I’m possibly developing a bit of a leather kink (she wrote, having recently fallen asleep cuddling a leather impact toy to her nose so she could smell it all night long). One of my most beloved leather possessions is a jacket I inherited from an older cousin years ago. It’s simple, sexy, and classic. And it makes me feel like a total badass.

Many times, I’ve considered upgrading to a more classic motorcycle style, but having tried on many such jackets, I think they’re boxier and more boyish than I can comfortably pull off. The blazer-esque fit of this one seems to match my aesthetic better and I like it. Although, I must say, if I ever encounter a hot pink leather biker jacket, I might have to buy it on the spot…

Lacy bralettes

There is something about cute bralettes that makes me feel adorable and put-together even if I am essentially wearing underwear in public. My favorite ones are by Aerie, as they strike a balance between aesthetics and comfort that one rarely encounters in the realm of lingerie. Most of the ones I currently own are either turquoise or pink (how predictable) so I’d like to expand my bralette color palette in the coming months. Maybe I need one in red, yellow, or black…

Animal Hair internal clitoris necklace

I bought this necklace to advertise my sex-nerdiness and it certainly does the trick. Everywhere I go, people either say, “What is that?” or “Oh my god, it’s the internal clit!” I enjoy the way its hot pink shade sets off pink lipstick and pops against all-black ensembles. Animal Hair makes a light blue one too, so I think I’m gonna expand my clit collection in the new year!

What were your favorite fashion and beauty items of 2017?

Monthly Faves: Velvet, Sugar, & Sprinkles

It’s been a weird month for me sexually. I’m juggling a bunch of different romantic/sexual connections right now and feeling a little overwhelmed (#PolyLyfe, amirite?). Here were some of my fave sexy things this month…

Sex toys

• Remember how Fucking Sculptures shut down recently? (Imagine the saddest of sad trombone sound effects here.) As soon as that announcement was made, I placed an order for one last toy from them, and it finally arrived this month: a large green Corkscrew. Honestly, I mostly just ordered it for the brand cachet and how beautiful I knew it would be, but it turns out it’s also highly functional too. Intense G-spot stimulation ahoy!

• We-Vibe sent me their new Gala clitoral vibrator and, as per usual for We-Vibe, it’s lovely. Definitely different from any other clit vibe I’ve tried, even Jimmyjane’s visually similar Form 2 and Intro 2. I will have waaay more thoughts in my full review, coming sometime in early 2018!

• I have rediscovered my Eroscillator this month. This happens periodically. I had forgotten how easy and profound my orgasms are with this toy!

Fantasy fodder

• Dominating my kinky thoughts this month are the notions of sugar daddies, financial domination/submission, and cash fetishism. That’s partly because I tentatively have a sugar daddy now (!!) and partly because I recently listened to a fantastic episode of Why Are People Into That? about findom and cash kink. Soooo much to unpack here with regards to power, class, privilege, “worthiness,” and desire. Hmm!

• Whenever I get into a new kink, I tend to search for Sherlock fanfic about it (surprise, surprise), which led to me discovering this “Sugar Daddy John Watson” story featuring copious gay sex in between hunger-stirring descriptions of magnificent Italian food. I will have to do more research along these lines…

• This month I had actual goddamn phone sex for the first time in, I dunno, probably 8 years or more. It’s an interesting medium for me as someone who totally gets off on words but also has anxiety about not being a good dirty-talker myself. It is nice when someone appreciates my moans/purrs/giggles, though!


• Orgasm stats: I only had 20 this month. I don’t know why. That’s shockingly low for me. Something to work on! (I did, however, hit 300 orgasms total for the year this month – all over my FWB’s cock, on the top floor of a sex club. A++ experience.)

• Now that November’s done, my yearly wrap-up series 12 Days of Girly Juice is about to start! So it’ll be all best-of lists all the time until the year is done, after which we’ll get back to our regular programming here. I’m excited to tell you about all my faves from 2017!

Femme stuff

• I’m really into velvet lately. And, like, always. I remember going shopping with my best friend Bex in September and shrieking “I LOVE VELVET SO MUUUCH!!” and them looking at me incredulously and saying, “I don’t think I knew that about you.” Well, I do. I think it’s mostly a sensual thing; my feelings about velvet are almost sexual (but then again, us pervy kinksters are always rounding things up to kinks when they aren’t necessarily). This month I bought a red velvet dress at H&M and I’m gonna thrash it once holiday parties start happening.

• I bought a pink heart collar on eBay for literally 99 cents, and it’s kind of perfect. Can I get one in every color so I can always be wearing one, please?

• Though I don’t wear jeans very often, because #FemmeLyfe, my favorite old pair is shredded to death so I bought a new pair this month. They make me feel very put-together and wholesome and grown-up. Hurrah!

Little things

Compliments so good I have to copy them into my journal to re-read over the coming days and weeks. Buying tickets for Max and I to go see his fave comedian, Sebastian Maniscalco, in March! Cuddling my roommate’s dog when I’m sad. Nerding out over my income spreadsheet. Singing “Crazy” for a rowdy karaoke crowd. Talking blog strategy with Suz over Indian food and cocktails. Deleting all my notifications except ones from PayPal ($$!). My super-sweet dermatologist. Respectful cam show clients. Hearkening back to phone calls in a text-centric world. Cheesy pasta delivered to my door. Rachel Hills’ The Sex Myth. This adorable song which came up on my Spotify Discover playlist this month (“I think you’re cute…!”). Cadence serving me roast veggies and chicken with boozy cream soda while we watched stand-up. A handsome older gentleman calling me “young lady” and “kiddo.” Vanilla donuts with sprinkles (and pumpkin pie donuts!). Long kink negotiations that devolve into hysterical laughter.

How to Flag as Kinky

Adorable impact play pin and spanking patch by Kinktionary!

Since realizing I was well-and-truly kinky a few years ago, one of the foremost problems I’ve faced is: how do I find other kinksters to play with?

True, kinky folks are everywhere. They’re on the internet. They’re in sex clubs and dungeons. They’re at regular-ass cafés and bookstores and bars. They’re lurking around every corner (oooh, spooky!). But it’s not usually appropriate to straight-up ask a stranger, “Hey, are you kinky?” or, more specifically, “Hey, are you into [this particular kink I’m into], and if so, would you like to play?”

This difficulty exists whether you’re out in vanilla-land or at a kink-focused event or playspace. Kinky locales sometimes have flagging systems in place, but not always. And even if they do, you might still want a little fun flair to set yourself apart and express your delightful perviness to the world.

With that in mind, here are a few ways you can “flag as kinky,” whether you’re headed to a coffee shop, a conference, or a cock-and-ball-torture class. (Hey, I don’t know your life.)

The hanky code

Dating back to the mid-20th century, the handkerchief code originated in gay male spaces, but is understood and employed by many different types of queers to this day. It’s a subtle way to show your true colors, so to speak, and looks fly as hell even if no one knows what you’re flagging. (But if you’re around culturally savvy queer folks, it’s likely at least some of them will.)

Here’s the deal with the hanky code: different colors correspond to different specific sex acts, from the relatively tame (light blue for cocksucking) to the more extreme (yellow for piss play). You wear the hanky on your right side if you’re a bottom/receiver for that particular act (traditionally in the back pocket of your pants, but feel free to mix things up as needed), or on the left side if you’re a top/giver. If you’re into multiple things (and most of us are), you can flag for multiple things. Fun!

The basic building blocks of the hanky code allow for plenty of creativity, so you can typically slot it into whatever kind of vibe you want your outfit to achieve. I’ve sometimes worn a light blue bandana tied around my left wrist (“I like sucking cock”), a flower hair clip fashioned from a light pink bandana on the right side of my head (“I like getting fucked with dildos”), or a red bandana tied around my head Rosie the Riveter-style with the knot placed to the right side (“I want to be fisted”). Some femmey types even incorporate hanky colors into their nail art. There’s so much fun to be had with the hanky code!

Pins and patches

Use your discretion with this one – like, for example, maybe don’t wear that “Fist Me, Daddy” pin to your family reunion – but clip-on and iron-on pieces of flair can communicate a lot!

I have, for instance, a little nametag that says “Princess” which I would like to wear to a kinky event sometime. It doesn’t spell out my kinks in detail, but it gives onlookers a clue as to what I might be into, and it can open up a conversation. (“Are you a dommy Princess, or a subby princess?”)

I’m also in love with the pins and patches from Kinktionary, an art project centered around hedonism, sex, and body-positivity. Their spanking patch and impact play pin swiftly communicate an interest in hittin’ or bein’ hit. I’m also into the playful, not-so-subtle subtlety of their “lick” pin, rope bondage patch, and biting patch. These designs are artistic and beautiful enough that you could rock them in polite company (within reason), but they could also easily open up a dialogue with a potential play partner at a kinky event. Swoon!

(Don’t even get me started on the “Sir” patch. I would have A Whole Lot of Feelings if I saw a domly-looking masc person with this sewed to the sleeve of their leather jacket.)

Kink accessories as fashion accessories

Here’s another trick in the “subtle, yet not subtle at all” camp: wear your kinky apparel as if it was just regular apparel.

Obviously, this won’t work with everything. You probably don’t wanna sport your leather chaps to church (unless your church is really fucking cool), and please don’t make a TSA agent pry your bondage cuffs off you, silly goose. But some kinky items are inconspicuous enough that they might go unnoticed in vanilla environments.

A leather waist-cinching belt with bondage-ready D-rings looks glorious over a cocktail dress, for example. Skinny bondage cuffs can look super cute as bracelets, particularly if they’re specifically designed to be wearable as such. Nipple clamps make brilliant cardigan clips. Even a well-shined pair of leather boots can communicate a certain kinky je ne sais quoi to the kind of person who would notice such things.


How do you like “flag as kinky”?


This post was graciously sponsored by the folks at Kinktionary, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own. Read up on their stunning art project, and then peruse their pins and patches!

Freelance Friday: Finances & Fears

Freelance Friday is my monthly feature where I answer questions about my life as a freelance writer, blogger, copywriter, and scribe-about-town. You can send in questions via email or in the comments!

Q. Is it necessary to have a dayjob as well?

A. I have one part-time dayjob at the moment: I work 8-10 hours a week writing tweets for an adult-industry marketing firm. (I had an additional part-time dayjob until recently, but am no longer working at ye olde sex shoppe – which, frankly, hallelujah, because retail is hard and really not well-suited to how my brain works.)

I make enough money from my more creative work that it isn’t necessary for me to have a dayjob – particularly since, if I didn’t have one, I’d have more time and energy for pitching, writing, and hustlin’ – but I still value my dayjob very much and would encourage writers and other freelance-y types to keep theirs or get one, for a few reasons.

First off: obviously having more money is better. My blogging and freelancing could cover my basic living expenses, but then I’d have very little extra cash for things like meals out, theatre tickets, travel, and gifts for friends – all of which are important to me. I don’t mind working harder to keep my lifestyle at a level where I’m happy with it and don’t feel deprived of anything vital.

Secondly, my dayjob acts as a safety net. Freelancing and blogging, as you may know, can be pretty feast-or-famine endeavors. There are months when I get a few fat freelance cheques and sell a handful of sponsored posts, and there are other months where my email inbox and bank account both remain comparatively barren. My dayjob offers me a flat, dependable monthly income, so that even if I earn absolutely no money elsewhere (which happens rarely but does happen), I will neither starve nor be kicked out of my apartment.

Finally, my dayjob gives me a peace of mind that is honestly crucial to my creativity. When I’m hard-up for cash, I tend to focus on crafting work I think will sell, rather than on what I genuinely want to write, which is more often the quirky, offbeat, original stuff that my readers like better anyway. If not for my dayjob, I’d feel paralyzed by the constant need to earn and earn and earn, and would have no spare energy or space for idle imagination. When the problem of money is more-or-less sorted, there’s more room to play. I am enormously privileged to be in a position where this is true for me.

Even if my career blew up tomorrow and I was suddenly making as much money from blogging and freelancing as I had previously been making in total, I think I would probably keep my dayjob. The security and freedom it gives me is a daily blessing. Plus, writin’ tweets is pretty fun sometimes.

Q. Did you have any fears when you were starting out, or even now that you’re established?

A. For a long time, I feared associating my real-life name and face with my sex blog identity. I worried future potential employers would find out I was a Sex Person and would bar me from their business, thereby denying me employment, money, and security. It was a scary thought, that some irresponsible internet dalliances in my youth could cost me financial stability way into my future.

But the farther I traveled into Sex Writing Land, the more I came to realize that a) making sex-related media is probably the big-picture destiny of my life, b) I can absolutely make a living doing this work (and even moreso if I attach my name and face to it), and c) anyone who would forgo hiring me because of my sex writing background is not someone I would want to work for anyway.

(Worth noting here: being able to be “out” about my identity is a privilege of my financial situation, social standing, geographic location, educational background, and other life circumstances – one that not everyone is afforded, nor should everyone who can be out about their work have to be. It was a personal choice I made for myself and I support folks in this industry who are both out of the closet and in it.)

I also feared I didn’t have anything real or important to say. This was especially true back when I started my blog, because I was in a steady, monogamous, sexually satisfying but unadventurous relationship with the first and only man I’d ever had sex with. I was vanilla back then (or at least, I thought I was), and had hardly any sexual experience to speak of, and feared that would hold me back as a sex writer. That became even more true when that relationship ended in 2014 and I went over a year without dating or having any sex at all.

What I learned about myself, during those monotonous periods, was that I still have eleventy-zillion thoughts and ideas and fantasies and hopes and dreams about sex even when I’m not having sex, or having boring sex. I don’t think someone’s sex life is necessarily a predictor of what kind of sex writer they can be. It’s more about how they approach the topic, the media they consume (or don’t consume) around it, their ideas and beliefs about sex, their kinks and fantasies, the things they allow themselves to want and the things they’re trying not to want.

I still don’t exactly know “what kind of sex writer I am,” what my “niche” is, what people look to me for. But I know that I’ve found my voice and my purpose by pursuing what organically fascinates me. Imitating writers you admire can only take you so far; at some point, you have to follow your heart and all its weird curiosities. It’s there that you’ll find the truest and most original core of what you can do.

3 Times Working Sex Toy Retail Made Me Feel All Warm and Fuzzy

It’s a commonly-spouted truism that working retail sucks, and I can’t argue with that. But some types of retail establishment suck less than others. As far as retail goes, if I get a choice, I’ll choose sex toy retail every time.

Sex shops are truly a weird universe unto themselves. You’re expected not only to sell customers the perfect products for their needs, but also to give them makeshift therapy of sorts. Folks come in not only with questions but with heart-rending monologues, long and storied histories, and years of baggage to pick apart. I would wager sex toy retail requires more emotional labor than practically any other category of retail.

But with great investments come great rewards, and I have indeed found sex toy retail to be some of the most fulfilling service-industry work I’ve done. I’ve often come away feeling like I’ve genuinely helped people and made their lives brighter.

On top of all that, I’ve had some of the raddest coworkers ever while working in sex shops. As you might imagine, these establishments are hubs for cool, offbeat, open-minded people. I’ve made some connections that are very dear to me in those environments.

Here are three of my favorite stories from working sex toy retail…

1. A young, straight-seeming couple came into the shop once, looking for a realistic dildo. I helped them choose one to fit their specifications: a particular shape and size they wanted, and a color that matched the guy’s skin tone. I didn’t think much of it – maybe he was having erectile issues, I thought, or couldn’t last as long as his partner wanted, or maybe they both just thought it would be hot to incorporate a dildo into sex. It didn’t seem relevant for me to know the details, so I didn’t ask.

It wasn’t until they inquired about harnesses that I began to suspect the guy might be trans, but I wasn’t sure, and again, it didn’t really matter for my purposes. I led him to the fitting rooms to try on a couple different harnesses, and his girlfriend waited outside the door to provide opinions as needed.

Leaving them to it, I wandered off to help another customer. But a few minutes later, as this couple walked toward the cash register with harness and dildo in hand, they caught my eye and approached me. “I just wanted to say thank you for being so helpful,” the guy said. “Some shops make me feel really awkward about being trans, and I didn’t feel that here.”

I immediately burst into tears, because I’m a sap. I’ve had multiple close trans and nonbinary friends over the years and it’s always so infuriating when they get misgendered and/or mistreated in public (or at all); it makes me want to punch people in their throats, which, y’know, isn’t exactly socially sanctioned. “That makes me so happy,” I gasped. “Thank you.” I hoped my manager couldn’t see me openly weeping on the sales floor, but ultimately I didn’t really care. The couple bought their stuff and left, and it was all I could do to compose myself for another few hours on the clock.

2. Another straight-seeming couple came into the store, all shifty and giggly. She beelined for the back, where one of my coworkers started helping her out. He, meanwhile, came to me.

“Me and my girlfriend are each shopping for something to surprise the other with,” he explained. “Oh, cute!” I chirped, and asked him for more details about his lady’s toy preferences. #RelationshipGoals, I thought.

In the end, we arrived at two possible options. She’d mentioned wanting to try a clit pump, but she also liked clitoral vibration, so he was torn between a pump and a strong bullet vibe I’d recommended. Offhandedly, he disclosed, “She already has a Magic Wand, and she loves it.”

My eyes went wide. “Oh, if she’s got a Magic Wand already, she probably doesn’t need this,” I told him, tapping the bullet. “Go with the clit pump. That’s gonna be a totally new sensation for her.”

At that moment, his girlfriend came striding toward us, and we both instinctively ducked, hiding the toys before she saw. “Shit,” he said, and we giggled.

“Also,” I whispered conspiratorially, “if you put the clit pump on her and hold the Magic Wand on it, the pump will vibrate, which feels really cool.”

He grinned. “Sold.” I watched them purchase their selections, backs to each other – “No peeking!” – and walk out arm-in-arm holding their plastic shopping bags. I hoped she would like the pump, and I wondered what she’d picked out for him.

3. I was blessed enough, at one point, to have coworkers who would consensually flog me with various products from the shop on slow nights. It certainly livened things up.

Once, I saw my tallest, buffest, domliest coworker perusing the impact play section of the store. I was bent over the glass dildo display case at the time, my chin cupped in one hand in a gesture of repose that said, Why the fuck aren’t there any customers tonight?! I watched coolly as Domly-Dom Coworker picked up the heaviest flogger we carried and weighed it in his big, broad hands.

He happened to glance my way. Wordlessly, I bent slightly further over the display case in a mildly suggestive pose. Wordlessly, he quirked an eyebrow at me and gestured with the flogger. Wordlessly, I nodded. Wordlessly, he strode over to me and cocked the flogger in both hands. I nodded again. He brought the falls down with a satisfying crack. I squealed. He smirked. We went back to work.

He and other coworkers took to hitting me with other things on occasion. A sex-ed hardcover in a dust jacket (“This one’s real thick; it should be good”). A heavy clotheshanger from the lingerie section (“I’m not sure this is strictly safe”). A giant PVC dildo the length of an arm (“This probably isn’t what people mean when they say they ‘play with double ended dildos‘”).

One day, a couple came in and inquired about the studded rubber paddle we carried. “Oh, it’s actually really cool!” I enthused. “Look, my manager just hit me with it a few hours ago and I still have these red marks on my arm! See?!” They were not as excited as I was, and did not buy that paddle. Oh well. Their loss.


This post was graciously sponsored by the folks at DearLady (who also supplied all the product photos in this post)! As always, all writing and opinions are my own.