Review: Bargain Hunterz Sienna Cage Bra

Content note: there are boobs in this post! It is, therefore, NSFW – so don’t scroll down if you’re at work. Unless your workplace is unusually boob-friendly, in which case, kudos to the administration!

looove the aesthetic of cage bras. For me, they conjure up visions of modern-day witches: hard-nosed millennial babes in smudgy eyeliner and quartz point necklaces, sketching pentagrams in the margins of their journals and leaving vampiric lip prints on bone-white coffee mugs. It’s a look I adore, so when Bargain Hunterz offered me my choice of item from their cage bra collection, I was on-board.

The one I chose, after much deliberation, was the Sienna Cage Bralette. I liked that its design is ornate but not excessive, and that it evokes that mild witchiness I enjoy so much without being a literal pentagram.

It took me a few minutes to figure out how to put on my new bralette. Looking at the product image online, I was able to figure out where each of the two circles go, one on my upper chest and one between my breasts. From there, I slipped my arms under the right straps and did up the two clasps on the bralette: one in the back-centre, like a regular bra, and one under my right arm.

I custom-ordered this bralette in my size, 34DD, so it fits me well – but I don’t think customization is strictly necessary for a product this stretchy. The entire bra is made of an elastic material with a lot of stretch. You’ll be disappointed with this if you want a chest harness with more practical applications – i.e. one by which a dominant partner can grab you and throw you around – but if you just want the cage bra aesthetic without the kink possibilities, this will work fine.

That said, I think this product was designed for someone thinner and less busty than I. The two straps that go under each breast look clearly defined and cool on the mannequin in the product image, but on me, they tend to bunch together uncomfortably, like how the extra fabric under the bust of a longline bralette usually rides up.

Those two straps also create a strange situation on my sides and back, gathering the fat there into squishable mounds that look weird under clothes (and even not under clothes). The angles in which I feel babely in this bralette are few and far between.

My main issue with this thing is the shape into which it funnels my breasts. Though the straps under and beside each breast should theoretically push them inward and upward to create a pleasing, curvy shape, I actually just feel like this bralette squishes my boobs into flabby triangular pancakes. It looks odd when I’m naked and even odder under clothes: the effect reminds me of Madonna’s famous pointy bras in the ’80s.

However, if you’re cool with pointy boobs – or have boobs small enough that a bralette like this wouldn’t corral yours into a strange shape – you might nonetheless like the effect you get from this piece. I have to admit I find it sexy-looking from the front, if not from the sides.

The elastic material is soft-ish but does get a bit chafey if I wear it for more than an hour at a time. It’s definitely more comfortable to me than a typical bra underwire, but it’s also much less supportive.

Overall, at $15, I think the Sienna Cage Bralette would be a reasonable purchase if you want to give the cage bra aesthetic a try. It’s far less expensive than a lot of higher-quality versions of a similar idea, so it’ll give you a taste of what you could look like and feel like if you dive deeper into the world of cage bras.

I wish this one didn’t squish my boobs into such an odd shape or emphasize the fat rolls on my sides and back, but I still think it looks cute as hell peeking out of a tank top – so I’ll probably wear it to sexy events now and again. I just want to feel like a sexy millennial witch, okay?!

Thanks to Bargain Hunterz for sponsoring this review and for providing me with this product to review! As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Times Kink Helped Me Love My Body

One of kink’s many magical qualities: you have to keep talking about it. All the time. There are no assumptions, no scripts, nothing for which consent is presupposed. At least, not the way I prefer to do it.

My first dominant fuckbuddy teaches me this. Our sext exchanges have consent conversations built right in. “I like restraining partners with chains,” he says. “I’m not a fan of being choked,” I say. “Teach me how to make you come with a toy,” he pleads. “I think I want to sit on your face,” I hypothesize.

I get good at asking for what I want. In the throes of subspace during my BDSM hookups, sometimes I lose my words, unable to form sentences longer than “Yes,” “No,” or “Harder” – but the more I try, the easier it gets. Though power exchange often leaves me literally gagged and silenced, it also makes me better at speaking up when I need to.

So after my fuckpal makes one too many vagina-shaming comments in my presence, I decide I don’t want to see him anymore. He’s not into period sex, he’s not into “excessive” wetness, he’s not into falling asleep next to me unshowered after sex – and while it’s fine for him to have his boundaries, it’s also fine for me to have mine. I want sex while I’m bleeding, wet, and/or dirty. My sexual menu just doesn’t feel complete without those things. A partner who can’t unabashedly adore my body in all its various weird states is not a partner I want to give myself over to.

So I tell him. “I don’t think I want to do sex/kink things with you anymore. I’d still like to be friends, though.”

He’s a little taken aback, but fine with it. My sigh of relief is immediately followed by a rush of pride: I identified an unmet need in my life and did something about it. I owned my desires and asserted them. And now I’ll no longer have to bang someone who makes me feel, in the smallest and saddest of ways, like my body is to be tolerated and not to be devoured.

I’m wearing nothing but lingerie in front of a crowd at a sex club. A photographer is snapping pictures. It’s terrifying – but I’m less scared than I thought I’d be, because a hot, brassy babe is bossing me around.

“Bend over and show the crowd your ass,” she barks. “There you go. Good girl. Doesn’t she have a great ass, folks?!”

The crowd bursts into applause, whoops, and yells of affirmation. Apparently they agree with her. I grin and laugh and blush and laugh some more.


I’m midway through a blowjob when my one-night stand starts to get antsy. “Come here,” he growls. My eyes flick upward, quizzical. Can’t I just… stay down here?

I climb up his body to kiss him. “No. Higher.” I straddle his belly. Is he really asking me to…? “Higher,” he commands again. Yep, I guess we’re doing this. I slide over his chest until my vulva is settled over his mouth. He wraps his big strong hands around my thighs and hips and pulls me toward him. My clit has no choice but to tangle with his tongue. I gasp and clutch at the headboard. Fuck, he’s good at that.

I’ve never sat on someone’s face on a first date before. Usually I date someone for months before I let them invite me onto their face. It’s just a lot: they get a mouthful and noseful of pussy, plus an eyeful of belly and underboob and double chin. I worry I’ll crush them with my chubby body, drown them in my juices, embarrass myself with unladylike sounds. I need to believe someone 100% wants me, in all my weird and overwhelming glory, before I’ll feel comfortable giving them that. This requires at least a few months of dating… or, apparently, a well-placed command from a one-off hookup.

See, when you command me to do something, I have to assume you want that thing. Maybe this is part of why I’m submissive: my irksome sexual anxiety insists I’m unattractive, unless and until someone cute is there to insist on the opposite. So, while “I love your body and find you gorgeous” is a highly effective line, “Come here and sit on my face immediately” achieves more-or-less the same purpose.

Sometimes there’s no time to worry about whether I’m “attractive enough,” because I’ve been given an order and I have to do what I’ve been told immediately. It’s important, after all, that I be a good girl.


We’re hours deep into our second date, lying on his bed in the hazy afternoon sun, stoned as fuck. The weed, as per usual, is working its magic: I am craving pain, knowing it will permute into pleasure. I turn to this boy I only met three days earlier and say, slyly: “I want you to spank me.”

I see his reaction in slow motion, because weed does that. He bites his lip, smirks, breaks into a grin. And then he says it: “With what?”

Everything else is slow and so too is the spread of goosebumps over my entire body, from my shoulders down my arms and all down my back. His question outs him as a true kinkster, one experienced with impact play and potentially owning a collection of implements. But what really excites me about this question is the tone of voice in which he said it: dark, rough, and absolutely dripping with want. I can tell he cannot fucking wait until I’m over his lap. And I don’t want to wait, either.

“Your hand, please,” I reply, and hitch up my skirt.


I’ve always hated my butt. The jiggly cellulite, the amorphous shape. I grew up on a steady diet of SuicideGirls and vintage pinups, and coveted those perfect, round butts. Mine did not look like theirs.

I didn’t know, when I got pretty pink bows and the words “good girl” tattooed on my upper thighs, that they would unravel years’ worth of insecurities in one fell swoop. Overnight, I went from trying to orient my body so partners couldn’t see my butt during sex, to openly showing it off and asking gleefully, “Do you like my tattoos?!” It felt odd to go back and look at photos of my backside pre-tattoos – not only did I dislike how it looked, but it also simply didn’t seem like it was mine.

One summer evening, I’m hanging out in an upscale Toronto sex shop with my friend Taylor. He’s teaching an impact play class, and I am the demo bottom. After the introductory preamble, it comes time for me to get spanked. “Should I take my dress off now?” I ask, and Taylor nods. I pull my simple cotton dress off over my head, revealing a matching set of lingerie underneath, and bend over the shop’s grey sofa to show off my ass to the crowd. Taylor explains how to wield a paddle, and then demonstrates. I smile through my grimace of pain, because I know I can handle this.

“You looked so confident tonight,” my boyfriend tells me later when I’m tucked into his bed, “just wearing lingerie in front of all those people.” He’s running his hands all over me and it’s hard to focus on his words, but when I do clue in to what he’s said, I feel proud.

“It wasn’t hard,” I say with a nonchalant shrug. It would’ve been, five years ago, or even one year ago. It would’ve made me cringe and blush and doubt myself. But tonight it was easy. Because I love my body and don’t care if other people don’t.

Just as long as the people I’m dating/kissing/fucking think I’m hot. And judging by the way my boyfriend is groping my ass and nibbling my neck, I would say that he does.

 

This post was sponsored, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own!

8 Ways to Explore a Sexual Fantasy (Without Actually Doing It)

Sex can be scary! I find straight-up vanilla sex intimidating sometimes – bodies and expectations and insecurities, oh my! – and kink can be even moreso. Especially when I’m thinking about introducing a brand-new activity into the equation.

It’s often easier to introduce a new kink act to a partner, I find, if you’ve previously explored that act in other ways. It’s a bit like how you’d probably practice a striptease in the mirror a few times before debuting it for your partner: you want to get comfortable with it yourself before exposing it to the eyes of others.

With that in mind, here are 8 ways you can explore that new fantasy that’s been bouncing around your brain – without actually going whole-hog and doing the damn thing. You can always get to that part later, if you want!

Fantasize about it. This is, of course, a common way to flesh out any new ambition, sexual or otherwise. Some science suggests fantasizing even helps you actualize your desires, like how some athletes visualize winning before they even get on the field, and have noticeably better results when they do. Play with your new kink in your mind while you masturbate, and see how it feels. If it turns you on as much as you had hoped, that might be a green light for you to bring it up with your partner(s)!

Journal about it. Whenever I’m considering making a change in my life, I find it helpful to write out all my thoughts about it. If you’re intrigued by a kink that’s new to you, you might want to spend some time unpacking why this kink intrigues you. You could also make a pros and cons list, write a script for how you’ll bring up this desire to your partner, or even write some spicy erotica featuring your kink of choice. All these approaches will help acclimatize you to a scary new sexual ambition.

Talk to someone about it. If you have a non-judgmental friend who’d be willing to hear you out, you might find it comforting and clarifying to discuss your new desire with them. You could also call a service like Peachbooth (which is free!), where a dirty-minded professional will talk out your fantasy with you or even roleplay the scenario of your dreams. You know a pro won’t judge your kink or rebuff you for bringing it up, so this can be a safe and comfortable first step into your new kink.

Listen to someone else talk about it. Search for Peachbooth clips about your kink of choice, and you’ll get to hear other people discussing it like it’s no big deal – not to mention hot. This can help normalize your new desire in your mind, so you won’t feel so scared to bring it up “in real life.” There are also tons of sex podcasts (look ’em up on iTunes or another fave podcatcher) which can serve the same purpose.

Read instructional books about it. There are so many great kink books out there. Type the name of your new kink – or some adjacent search terms – into Amazon or another bookseller, and see what comes up. Books are helpful not only for fantasy purposes but also for general safety and preparedness: if you’re pursuing a potentially dangerous kink like fireplay or knifeplay, you’ll want to know what the risks and best practices are before you attempt it!

Watch porn about it. We live in the era of internet porn – might as well take advantage of that! As per the infamous Rule 34, if you can conceive of a subject, there exists porn about it. Get on Google, or your favorite porn site, and do a search for whatever naughty notion is occupying your mind. You might learn something new about the activity you’re looking to explore – or about yourself!

Read erotic literature about it. Flip through erotica anthologies at the bookstore, do a search on Literotica, or even browse a fanfiction site like Archive of Our Own. Text-based erotic media can be more illuminating than traditional porn because you get a glimpse into the characters’ minds and motivations, which might help you understand your newfound desires more deeply. (Plus, how fun is it to read about Sherlock Holmes getting pegged or flogged or fucked by tentacles or whatever?!)

Talk dirty about it during sex. Even if you’re not brave enough yet to put on that schoolgirl costume and hand your partner a wooden ruler (for example), you can still weave pieces of that fantasy into your sex life together. You could gasp “Have I been a bad girl?” in between kisses, or drop a “Sir” into your dialogue and see how your beau reacts. This is a lower-pressure approach than rolling out a detailed script and storyline for the fantasy you hope to enact.

How do you like to explore a new kink before you try it out in real life?

 

This post was generously sponsored by the folks at Peachbooth. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

3 Sexual Fantasies I Hope to Act Out Someday

One of the best things about working in sex media: you’re constantly exposed to new kinks and scenarios, and therefore, if you’re lucky, you’re constantly coming up with new sexual fantasies to lust after.

I know what my main kinks are – the basic building blocks of my psychosexual makeup – but I’m always adding new things to my peripheral list of “hmm, maybe someday” kinds of kinks. Whether I’m reading fanfiction or classy erotica, watching art porn or raunchy amateur clips, discussing friends’ recent sexploits or telling them about mine, I’m always filling my head with new ideas for my “fucket list.”

Here are 3 fantasies I’m slightly fixated on lately…

An MFM threesome. I’ve had several threesomes, but all were with a man + either a non-binary person or another woman. They were all absolutely delightful, but gosh, I’d love to be the focus of two dudes’ focus at once. Maybe a dominant guy would tell a submissive guy what to do to me; maybe one dude would worshipfully go down on me while the other fucked my face; maybe we’d even work our way up to double penetration. (Ambitious!) Whatever the situation, I bet I’d love being the centre of attention.

Professor/schoolgirl roleplay. Maybe I’ve watched too much dialogue-heavy situational European porn, or maybe it’s just my inner teacher’s pet showing, but I’ve always had a thing for sexy teacher/student dynamics. I fetishize red apples used as ballgags and wooden rulers thwacked against nubile butts. I feel sexiest and sassiest in short thigh-baring skirts, and I get a little weak in the knees for tweed blazers with elbow patches. Someday I hope a well-dressed domly person (consensually) bends me over a wooden desk, tells me I’ve been a bad girl, and gives me an opportunity to earn some extra credit…!

Erotic massage. For as long as I can remember, I’ve eroticized the idea of someone deftly and expertly getting me off, like it’s their fuckin’ job – and in this fantasy, it is. Depending on my mood, sometimes I picture the masseuse actually finding me attractive and getting turned on in a highly unprofessional way – or sometimes I just want them to be stony and stoic, stroking me on autopilot until I fall apart. Either way, it’s a fantasy so hot that I tense up from arousal… and probably need a good massage to work out those kinks, if you know what I’m sayin’.

What fantasies are haunting your sex-brain recently?

 

This post was generously sponsored by the folks at PornDoe, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own!

The Glory of Period Sex (+ a Bloody Good Giveaway)

“I don’t think I can bring myself to send her tongue-spelunking through my bloody cave,” muses the first-ever mention of period sex in my years’ worth of journals. It signals an apprehension I still sometimes feel.

I was sixteen. My partner at the time was achingly enthusiastic about my vulva in its every known state: musky or clean, shaved or stubbly, swollen and aroused or flat and demure. But “bloody” felt like another thing entirely; we had not discussed that.

As it turned out, she was more than fine with bloody tongue-spelunking. But having that initial conversation with a new partner still feels edgy to me, all these years later. There’s a strong chance they’ll wrinkle their nose and shake their head in barely-concealed horror, but it’s just as likely they’ll be blissfully blasé about blood taboos and dive right in.

My go-to approach to this conversation, therefore, is a bit coy. Typically I’ll say, “By the way, I’m on my period, so…” and simply watch what happens. In one case, at a threesome, the boy smiled and replied, “What would you like me to do?” (“DING DING DING, right answer!!” Bex and I yelled when we gleefully revisited this moment over dinner that night.)

Another time, I took home a hookup who would later become my fave fuckbuddy. He wields my favorite BJ dick so I would’ve been content just to blow him and say goodnight – but when I mentioned being on my period, he replied, nonchalantly, without missing a beat: “You know, I also have blood in my body.” He absolutely, 100% deserved the stellar blowjob I then gave him.

This particular FWB has the most exemplary attitude on period sex I’ve ever encountered in a dude, so I asked him to contribute some thoughts on the topic for this post. Here’s what he had to say:

Period sex can be a lot to handle at first. Maybe you don’t normally see a lot of blood and it feels weird. Maybe it just seems gross because so many people are squeamish about it. But to me, period sex is just a matter of different preparation. An old partner of mine and I had a dark red towel that we put down and folded when Aunt Flo was in town. Periods are natural. Let’s not forget that those of us with penises squirt out a weird body fluid EVERY TIME we come. So if you need to ask your partner to take a shower, do what you need to do. But making a partner feel gross for being on their period is shaming their entire biological makeup. It’s not cool, and it will not win you any points. Instead, you can think of period sex as an opportunity to show your partner that you fully accept them. Additionally, I find that the viscosity of vaginal fluids during menstruation can make sex feel AMAZING. So don’t knock it till you rock it. And remember: You’ve got blood in your body too.

Likewise, I knew my current boyfriend was a keeper when he “earned his red wings” the very first time we had sex. In our initial negotiation, I set a boundary that I didn’t want anything to happen to my genitals during that session, because “it wasn’t a good day for that” – but as I got turned on from makeouts and blowjobs and spanking, that line I’d drawn in the sand began to waver. I went to the bathroom to make sure my menstrual cup was still doing its job, and then I came back to his sunny bedroom and asked for what I wanted. He was happy to deliver – for at least half an hour.

I don’t know if most cis men really know how deeply their attitude on period sex can affect a menstruating person’s self-esteem. While I understand why someone might not want to stick their face in blood, it makes me feel so sad and rejected to have a partner who finds my bits distasteful one week out of every month. Even the smallest step toward gaining comfort with menstrual sex – pressing a Magic Wand against me through my underwear, say, or talking dirty in my ear while I masturbate – is better than eschewing it altogether (although, of course, consent and boundaries are of utmost importance, so if you don’t want to do it, you never have to!). I crave intimacy and sexual enthusiasm all month long, and that one week each month is the time when a partner can demonstrate these things most readily, most deeply, most impactfully. It’s a small thing but it can change everything.

Of course, loving period sex doesn’t mean I also love the mess that accompanies it. It’s fine when I’m free-bleedin’ in a bathtub (Kennedy Ryan calls this “Lady Macbeth time“), but recklessly sullying my bedsheets and clothes with blood is a bridge too far for me. That’s why I keep a dark towel near my bed, and a few packages of wet wipes within reach. Before I started doing this, I once got fingerbanged by someone who then looked around for somewhere to wipe his bloody hands. I was wearing black thigh-high socks, and said, “Just wipe ’em on these.” It worked in a pinch, but, y’know, wipes would’ve been preferable.

The afterglow is one of the loveliest parts of sex – it’s a shame to have to ruin it with clean-up. I’m a lazy princess and hate having to throw on a bathrobe and waddle to the bathroom on my post-orgasmic jelly legs for a washcloth wipedown. With the right tools by my bedside, I can do a quick-‘n’-easy spot-clean, pop my menstrual cup back in, and resume snugglin’ ASAP. When the person you’re fucking makes you all swoony and starry-eyed, you don’t want to miss out on even ten seconds of precious cuddling.

In the spirit of mitigating mess so you can get back to the fun stuff: I have a giveaway for you today! It’s ideal for those of you who partake of period sex, or other forms of messy sex – or are interested in trying. Aftercourse Wipes has generously offered up a month’s supply of wipes for two lucky winners: one in the USA and one anywhere in the world. These wipes are alcohol-free and use natural ingredients like tea tree oil, aloe, chamomile and lemongrass to get your bits clean after sex. The giveaway will run for two weeks; entrance details are below!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Whether or not you decide to enter the giveaway, you can still get a discount on your Aftercourse purchase with the code “GIRLYJUICE.” Enjoy!

 

This post was generously sponsored by the folks at Aftercourse Wipes, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own. Feel free to follow Aftercourse on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter!