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Review: Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen

Kate Sloan

If you were following along with new developments in the sex toy industry back when the first Womanizer model launched, then you know that these toys had an ugly start. Literally.

The tragically-named company was bringing an exciting new technology to the market – pressure-wave stimulation, i.e. making clits feel good with rhythmic pulses of air – but they had made a grave miscalculation (in my view) by festooning their new toys in cartoonish leopard print and over-the-top rhinestones. The product itself was giving folks with vulvas a whole different type of stimulation than they were used to, so Womanizer could’ve gone with a much less gaudy aesthetic and still intrigued consumers around the globe. And yet, they went with designs so garish that I was frankly kind of embarrassed when friends spotted the toy on my nightstand. (As you can imagine, in my line of work, that situation doesn’t usually embarrass me…)

I say this not to retroactively shame Womanizer, but to say that I really appreciate the aesthetic direction the brand has taken over the past few years, particularly since they were acquired by We-Vibe. Their current lineup is sleek and sophisticated-looking. If you love leopard print, perhaps you’re crestfallen (I can appreciate it too, just not on a sex toy), but I’m delighted that consumers can access pressure-wave toys now without their friends and lovers making comments such as, “Did an Elvis impersonator in Vegas throw that at you from the stage?” or “Liberace called; he wants his vibrator back.”

The most recent addition to my Womanizer collection, sent to me by the lovely folks at XOXTOYS, is the Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen, a special-edition toy co-designed by the British singer/songwriter whose name it bears. Prior to trying this toy, the only other thing I knew about Lily Allen was that she did a song called “Alfie” that I liked (I think it was even my ringtone for a while in middle school). I’m not quite sure to what extent she was actually involved in the design process for this toy, but I imagine that she at least picked the colors, and they’re good ones: a very 1960s juxtaposition of hot pink and bright orange. I actually love this color combo and find it uplifting to see this toy on my nightstand.

Another aesthetic thing I like about the Lily Allen Womanizer is that it comes with a matching “travel cover,” a piece of curvy hard plastic that the Womanizer slots into perfectly, so that it’ll be protected from dirt, dust and damage in your purse or suitcase, and also won’t be immediately recognizable as a sex toy to any nosy relative or TSA agent who happens to spot it.

In terms of what the toy actually does, though… This Womanizer has six intensity levels and no patterns, which I respect. I’m not a patterns person, but if you are, this isn’t the toy for you.

I don’t always love reviewing pressure-wave toys, because I find the differences between them more subtle and difficult to discern than the differences between vibrators or dildos. But this Womanizer actually feels markedly different from most other pressure-wave toys I’ve tried. It feels… thumpier? Stronger? Sharper? More aggressive? There’s an intensity to the sensation that I don’t often run across in these toys. It feels like someone is firmly tapping against my clit.

I imagine that this intensity is what makes the Womanizer Liberty such a hit with so many online reviewers. For me, it’s a bit hit-or-miss. My clit enjoys the first couple of modes, but after that, the jumps between settings start to feel a bit wide for my preferences. Things’ll be feeling good, and then I’ll hit the “+” button and be jarred out of the moment a little bit by how much more insistent the stimulation suddenly gets.

The thing is, sometimes that’s an unwelcome sensation for me, but other times, there’s a bit of forced-orgasm hotness to it – like a dom is holding a slightly-too-strong vibrator against my bits and trying to (consensually) induce a climax in me whether I like it or not.

And indeed, I have orgasmed several times with this toy. I will say, it’s a bit more hard-won than with some other toys, because I’m constantly engaged in a dance of turning up the toy when I want more and then turning it back down when I want less, until I finally reach orgasm. But frankly, I prefer that over some other pressure-wave toys that are so depressingly weak that they have no hope of getting me off. There’s never any doubt in my mind that the Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen is gonna get me there, although it might take a while.

Perhaps my favorite feature of this toy is the buttons. There was a night recently when I was trying to sleep but kept having intrusive sexual fantasies about receiving oral (what else is new), so I decided to quickly jerk off so that hopefully I could get some shut-eye. Literally without removing my eye mask, I was able to reach over, grab this Womanizer, position it on my bits and turn it on. It only has two buttons, a “plus” one and a “minus” one, and the “plus” one is significantly larger. This makes it shockingly easy to operate this toy in the dark, even while half-asleep or intoxicated (trust me, I’d know).

This Womanizer is one of the more powerful pressure-wave toys I’ve tried, despite its small size. It’s also definitely the most travel-friendly of any I’ve used. It doesn’t stimulate as much of my clitoral shaft as the Lelo Sila – so if you have a larger clit, or are a transmasculine person with bottom growth, this may not be the one for you. It doesn’t have fancy patterns and modes, like the Womanizer Premium does.

But it’s probably the prettiest pressure-wave toy I own, at least for my particular aesthetic tastes, and it’s also one of the quietest and most discreet toys in their lineup. Whether or not you’re a Lily Allen fan, I think you stand a good chance of enjoying the Womanizer Liberty by Lily Allen. This sex toy company has had some failures and some successes, and I think this toy is firmly in the “successes” pile, even if it’s not my favorite ever.

 

Thanks to the folks at XOXTOYS for sending me this toy! This post was sponsored, meaning I was paid to write a fair and honest review of the product. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

10 Myths People Mistakenly Believe About Sex Toy Reviewers

Kate Sloan
Pictured, from L to R: the Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble, Fucking Sculptures G-Spoon, Tantus Tsunami and VixSkin Mustang

I’ve been doing this sex toy reviewer thing for a long time – over a decade, in fact – and there are a handful of myths about my line of work that I run into again and again. Let’s bust ’em, baby.

  1. We “masturbate for a living.” Look, I completely understand why so many people react to hearing about my job in a way that boils down to “Must be nice!” My career, indeed, involves an activity I love (writing), focused on subject matter I’m passionate about (sex). I’m extremely privileged to have a job I enjoy and can physically do, despite the chronic illnesses I live with. But I promise you, I only spend about 2% of my working hours actually masturbating, if that – and it isn’t “normal” masturbation because it’s for work, not for pleasure. I have to pay attention, take notes, compare different toys to each other, etc. rather than just being able to enjoy myself, and often end up ruining my own orgasms in the process. It’s a fun job in many ways, yes, but probably not in the ways you’d think!
  2. Sex toy reviewing takes no skill. Uh, nope. Most people can hold a vibrator on their bits or insert a dildo into their body; most people cannot summarize and analyze the cultural context of that toy, compare it usefully to several others in its category, write a compelling and well-crafted review, take photos to go with it, pre-emptively answer questions that consumers will wonder about, promote reviews effectively on social media, implement SEO, keep up with industry trends, and so on and so forth. As with media workers in any specialized “beat,” sex toy reviewers tend to develop their own skillset and style. To devalue that is to misunderstand the work and what goes into it.
  3. We are sluts who are always DTF. Oh, certainly some of us are. I have been at certain times in my life. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a slut. But don’t assume someone’s personality and entire life revolve around sex just because their career does. And certainly don’t assume you’ll have an easier time getting laid if you’re on a date with a sexual media-maker than with anybody else. I often feel pressured to live up to the “manic sexy dream girl” fantasy some people seem to have about me, and it sucks.
  4. We prefer using toys over having sex with human beings. There’s nothing wrong with people who do feel this way, but it’s reductive to assume someone will feel this way because their work focuses on sex toys. And, as ever, I must remind you: sex toys and human partners are not mutually exclusive. The two can and do coexist in sexual encounters. Most of my best sex ever has involved toys.
  5. We can’t find sexual partners because they’re too intimidated by what they do. I have to laugh and call bullshit on this one. Many of my sex toy reviewer friends are in high demand in their sex/dating lives, sometimes partly because of what they do, not just in spite of it. As for reviewers for whom that’s not the case, it’s worth noting that it doesn’t even fucking matter. The number of sexual partners you attract or pursue has nothing to do with your intrinsic value as a human being, or the quality of the work that you do. And if someone would judge you for something as innocuous as reviewing sex toys, IMO they’re not worth dating or fucking anyway.
  6. We’re also sex workers. Some of us are (kudos to those folks!), and I have dabbled in sex work myself and usually enjoyed it. But it’s strange to assume that someone writing about sex toys automatically means they’ll sell you nudes or a cam show, or that you’ll be able to meet up with them for sex, paid or unpaid.
  7. We sell sex toys. It continues to surprise me how often I get emails and DMs from people who think that I run a sex toy store, or who want me to supply them with wholesale sex toys to sell at their shop. I do not do this and have never done this, but there are plenty of great stores and distributors out there that do sell toys (including wholesale adult toys) if that’s what you’re after!
  8. Sex toy reviewing can only ever be a hobby. To be clear, there are a ton of people for whom sex toy reviewing is a hobby or a side gig, and that’s absolutely valid! But in my case, it actually is the vast majority of the work that I do, and brings in the vast majority of my income – so it’s funny and sometimes a bit insulting when people say stuff like, “Oh, fun! What’s your actual job, though?”
  9. We owe you details about our personal life. I get that when someone shares intimate details about themselves, it can be surprising that they’d choose to be private and guarded in other areas of their life. But one thing sex toy reviewing has taught me is that I can be selectively open. Good boundary-setting is an important part of the job, I think.
  10. We’ll regret it. I do know people who have regretted reviewing sex toys, often because they incurred harassment online, offline, or both, from people who thought that this work was worthy of denigration or evidence of some kind of moral failing. But a lot of sex toy reviewers use pseudonyms precisely so that they can do this work without (as much) fear of it coming back to bite them in the ass. I did that myself for several years, fearing repercussions if future employers stumbled across what I’d been writing – but then I realized that this was what I was meant to do, full-time, so I came out publicly about my name and identity and have never once regretted it.

What myths have you heard about sex toy reviewers?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

What My Objectification Kink Taught Me About Relationships

Kate Sloan

There are many forms of “objectification play” that I’ve experimented with, and the older I get, the more I seem to enjoy this kink.

There’s the version where I’m a literal object, usually a piece of furniture like a footstool or drink-holder, performing a functional service that may not appear outwardly sexual but can feel very sexual on the inside.

There’s the version where I pretend to be a doll – either a literal, porcelain doll, or a full-grown adult who’s been transformed via hypnosis or drugs into a “human sex doll” – and then get to be “used” by my “owner.”

There’s the form of objectification that most non-kinky people are familiar with, the kind that shows up in fashion magazines and in plenty of porn, wherein I’m viewed as a sexual object without agency or personhood, just a series of willing and fuckable holes.

And there are lots more ways this kink can play out that I haven’t even tried yet.

 

As with many kinks of mine, a lot of what appeals to me about objectification is the way it helps me reclaim and subvert shitty nonconsensual experiences I’ve had in the past. All the Tinder bros who text shit like “u up?” and “ready to be my fuk machine tonight?” All the hookups who cared more about getting off than giving pleasure. All the times I thought I meant something to my date on an emotional level – even one as simple as “I like her and like having conversations with her” – but it turns out that apparently I didn’t.

The sting of these mistreatments has eased a bit after several years, but I can still bring those feelings vibrantly to mind if I focus on those memories. Because I’ve paired that type of objectification with consent and pleasure in roleplays with trusted partners, the idea of being sexually objectified in this way is no longer quite as abhorrent to me – because I know it can be done in consensual ways.

Granted, none of the people with whom I’ve play-acted objectification actually saw me as objects; that was what allowed the play-acting to indeed feel like play and not like senseless cruelty.

 

As someone who writes about sex toys professionally (including, occasionally, sex dolls), I find it oddly gratifying to pretend to be a sex toy of sorts from time to time. There’s something subversive and relaxing to me about setting aside the sexual machines I’ve been writing about all day and then getting to morph into a sexual machine myself.

See, when I’m being objectified in a deeply consensual and intentional way, my mind gets to shut off. And I value that a lot, as someone whose mind is always racing with anxiety and deadlines.

But also, in my career as a sex scribe, I’ve encountered countless people who thought that my career choice was an invitation for harassment and nonconsensual sexualization. They thought that my creative interest in topics like sexual psychology and the history of the porn industry was reason enough to see me as a walking, talking sex doll who exists to spice up their boring lives.

I understand the desire to have your life overtaken by someone interesting and magical – it’s the reason “manic pixie dream girl” stories continue to get cranked out year after year. It’s also something I’ve felt myself, during long hours of swiping on Tinder late into the night, always hoping that the next swipe would conjure a life-altering force, someone so cute and charming and kind and loving that my entire daily existence would take on a different tenor just from having them around.

But as I’ve been learning in therapy, viewing other people as potential “redeemers” or “saviors” gives your power away. It strips you of the knowledge that you have the ability to make yourself happy more readily and more profoundly than any external person can. It makes you feel dependent on people you never actually needed and maybe never even really wanted.

 

So I’ve been on both sides of the objectification equation: I’ve been objectified (a lot), and in some ways I’ve objectified other people too, seen them as heroes or saviors or props in my life story.

This is no doubt why it feels so good to me now when I play with objectification, from either side of the D/s slash. Because it shows me the difference between the consensual and nonconsensual versions of these dynamics – and even equips me with the communication tools I need to say, “No. Stop. You’re putting me in a role I didn’t consent to, and I will not stand for that.”

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Review: Bombex Butterfly Desire Vibe Pro

Kate Sloan

Does anyone else remember when butterflies were all the rage in the sex toy industry, circa 2008-2009? First there were rabbits; then, suddenly, everyone was talking about butterflies.

The main one I remember was a wearable, remote-control butterfly-shaped vibrator that my friend-with-benefits owned around that time, but there were also dual-stimulation vibes and even cock rings made to look like butterflies. Not really sure what made this particular insect a sudden sex symbol. I do know that Jason Mraz has a whole song where he keeps referring to a vulva as a butterfly, though, and that my own vulva kinda resembles one when my labia are spread apart, so maybe that has something to do with it…

Anyway, today I’m reviewing the Bombex Butterfly Desire Vibe Pro, another beautiful butterfly-shaped product. It’s a dual-stimulation toy: the outer portion (the “butterfly” itself) uses pressure-wave technology to stimulate your clit, while the inner arm, when inserted vaginally, transmits vibration into your G-spot. Let’s talk about some of the benefits and drawbacks of this little bug…

 

Things I like about this toy:

  • The vibration of the internal arm is decently rumbly and strong, even on the first setting. There are three steady speeds and I’ve gotten off on the first one before, which is pretty impressive. The vibrations stay rumbly through all three speeds. I feel like I should have more to say about this, because it’s one of the most important qualities of any vibrator and Bombex got it very right here – but all I really have to say is that it’s rumbly and good and I like it!
  • The shape of the internal arm is such that it can hit my G-spot fairly easily, and feels great doing so. I love that it’s got a swollen head and a slightly slimmer shaft, because this makes its sensations more discernible to my G-spot and also makes it so that I can sort of fuck myself hands-free with the toy by clenching and unclenching my PC muscles rhythmically.
  • That last point is worth expounding upon more: this is a toy that stays inside me pretty well, even when I’m using it hands-free, but nonetheless will gently move back and forth against my body if I rhythmically squeeze my pelvic muscles. For me, this quality makes it way easier for me to orgasm with a dual-stimulation toy, because the additional motion on top of the vibration (+ in this case, pressure waves) makes the whole toy feel more stimulating.
  • The shape and size of the clitoral stimulator work well for me. It can’t stimulate as much of my clit as the large-mouthed Lelo Sila, but at least it doesn’t focus uncomfortably on the exposed tip of my clit like so many other toys of this kind. There’s a soft rim of silicone around the opening that makes the sensation feel gentler but no less pleasurable.
  • It’s made of body-safe silicone and ABS plastic!
  • It’s waterproof!
  • It has a remote control! Unfortunately I could not test this component because I had to fly to New York midway through working on this review and forgot the remote at home, but in theory I think it’s a great idea for a toy like this to have a remote. It makes it so that you can control the intensity without needing to reach into your pants/underwear every time (should you be wearing any), which could make this toy useful for public play.

Things I don’t like about this toy:

  • You can’t control the toy’s two functions separately. I know I complain about this in almost every dual-stimulation toy review I write, but if a toy does two different things to two different body parts, you should really be able to control each component individually, since different body parts don’t always want the same kinds of stimulation at the same time. On this toy, both functions are controlled in tandem by one button.
  • The outer portion of the toy has very little flexibility, which makes it so that if you have a particularly long or particularly short distance between your clit and vaginal opening, you might not be able to comfortably use both parts of the toy at the same time. (The distance from the middle of the clit stimulator to the top of the vaginal shaft is about 1.25″.)
  • Three steady speeds is not really enough. Granted, I’m generally not a fan of vibration patterns – but setting that aside, the fewer steady speeds a toy has, the bigger the jumps between each speed are likelier to be. Moving up to the next speed often feels jarring and takes me out of the moment a little, rather than encouraging higher and higher levels of arousal.
  • Having only one button means you have to scroll through all 10 settings to get back to a previous one. This is bad news for anyone who, like me, tends to turn the vibrations up and down a lot during any given session to help prevent overstimulation.
  • The vibrations feel stronger/rumblier/more impactful than the clitoral pressure waves, so sometimes all I can really feel is the vibration. However, I still get enough clit stimulation that I can come with this toy easily if I’m watching porn or otherwise engaging my brain in some sexy stuff.
  • As with most other pressure-wave toys, this one can make me orgasm easily but the orgasms aren’t always the most satisfying, and are sometimes immediately overtaken by discomfort as the toy keeps sucking my clit while I get hypersensitive post-orgasm.

Final thoughts:

There’s a lot I don’t understand about this toy. Why is it a butterfly? What are the wings and antennae supposed to do?* Why is there an illustration in the instructions that seems to indicate you can use the pressure-wave component on a partner’s penis while they’re fucking you?!

Overall though, I think the Bombex Butterfly Desire Vibe Pro is a good value for its price point ($60), assuming you want a dual-stimulation toy with pressure waves and the distance between your clit and vaginal opening is in range for this one to work for you.

 

This post was sponsored, meaning I was paid to write a fair and honest review of this product. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

*When reached for comment, a representative at Bombex told me, in response to these questions: “Women are like butterflies, representing beauty, freedom, rebirth and goddess. Women are like a butterfly, her wings unfolded. Sucking and vibrating at the same time. Stimulating the clitoris and G-spot to give you out-of-this-world orgasms. Women like butterflies. The color of the red rose symbolizes romance, love, beauty and courage. The antenna flirts with your secret desire. The two eyes turn into usb port for long-lasting pleasure and can be quickly recharged. They shimmer and glow in the moonlight and almost seem to come alive. Women are like butterflies. People say a butterfly cannot see the color of its own wings. Cannot see how beautiful they really are. We are butterflies. Even if you can not see it. Even if you can not see how beautiful you really are. Just know that BOMBEX MAKES YOU FEEL BOMB AF!” [sic]

My Weird Relationship with Foot Fetishism

Kate Sloan

Content note: This post contains some non-explicit, not-super-detailed descriptions of times that I was sexually creeped on by adults when I was a teen.

 

I’ve always had a complicated relationship to the foot fetish community. Some of my earliest memories of feeling creeped out and sexually taken advantage of are related to foot fetishism, unfortunately. But that just means I have to work harder to overcome my biases and embrace kinksters who approach this fetish in fully consensual, 100% respectful ways – unlike those who started harassing me online when I was 14.

I’ve been posting outfit photos on-and-off since 2006, and one thing that happens when you post outfit photos to an audience of any significant size is that you attract people who fetishize the stuff you wear. People flocked to my Flickr page to fawn over my leggings, my corduroy shorts, the leather gloves I’d occasionally put on for fancy events. Pretty much anything I ever wore, there would be somebody who’d fetishize it.

But unfortunately it was often the foot fetishists who were the most extreme in this behavior. Even when I was literally 14 years old, I would receive comments and messages from them regularly, demanding that I post more barefoot pics, wear more sandals, or even send them my old and unwanted pairs of shoes. Some of them would lie to me in order to achieve the result they wanted; I’ll never forget the one who told me he ran a “recycling plant” for old sneakers and would be happy to accept my donations. Even at 14, I saw right through that shit and called him out – but it made me feel deeply uncomfortable and violated nonetheless, to be so intensely sexualized by strangers who clearly just saw me as a body for their visual consumption.

It’s been 16 years since I first started posting outfit photos online, and I have a lot more perspective on human behavior now – not to mention, a lot more knowledge about the shame and secrecy that run rampant in fetish communities. It actually makes total sense to me that people who’ve had their deepest sexual desires shamed and stigmatized for many years would turn to unsavory tactics to get their needs met. I’m not saying it’s okay – it’s deeply, deeply not okay at all – but I do understand where the impulse comes from. It’s just not a good impulse, because it involves prioritizing your own pleasure and gratification over someone else’s personhood and safety – and that’s never acceptable, no matter how difficult it may have been to live with the fetish that you have.

 

These experiences have made me extra appreciative in adulthood of fetishists who are straightforward and respectful, e.g. those who politely request sexy feet pics from me with the clear knowledge that money will need to be exchanged in order for those photos to materialize. (If that’s something you’re interested in, by the way, you should click here.)

It’s not that paying for foot-related media is the only way to access it respectfully; it’s just that it’s the only way for an internet stranger to get foot-related media from me, specifically, and I know many others feel the same. That’s why websites like FunWithFeet.com are so cool – they connect people who want foot content with people who are willing to provide it, for an agreed-upon fee.

I always wished for something like this when I was in my late teens/early twenties, because it frustrated me to no end that random men would demand I post more pics of me in sandals, or whatever, and not even offer to buy me the sandals in question. I longed for platforms where consensual, ethical fetishism could be expressed and enjoyed by anyone who wanted to participate, and where no one would ever feel even remotely pressured into doing something they didn’t want to do. So it’s pretty awesome to me that FunWithFeet and other such foot-focused hubs exist.

 

Another aspect of all this is the way foot fetishism manifests in my personal life, as opposed to my professional life. I’ve had a few partners who were into feet to some degree, including my current partner. It was educational and weirdly cleansing to satisfy real-life partners’ desire for foot pics after having been lied to, used, grossed out and taken advantage of by so many foot fetishists as a teen.

A beloved partner politely requesting pictures of my feet felt completely different from a faceless internet stranger one-handedly and irately demanding I post foot pics for free. It still made me nervous at times, but in different ways: I was nervous about whether my feet were pretty enough to be fetishized, whether they needed a pedicure, whether they’d somehow be a turn-off instead of a turn-on.

Luckily, though, all my foot fetishist partners have been incredibly complimentary about my feet and have never made me feel the way those online strangers did – like my feet were my entire value and the rest of me didn’t matter. Even now, when we’re lying on the couch together watching a movie at night, my partner will sometimes sweetly ask if they can remove my socks and massage my feet while we watch – and though it still sometimes feels vulnerable, or embarrassing, or tickly, I usually say yes.

It can be healing to encounter something that used to make you feel scared, sad, used, and unimportant, and to find ways to feel exactly the opposite about it. I’m reminded, once again, of one of the central lessons I’ve learned about sex as a whole: consent makes all the difference.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.