spon

5 Quick Tips For Gifting Sex Toys

Kate Sloan

It’s holiday time, and maybe you’re planning on buying a sex toy for your sweetheart, your best friend, or your mom. (Hey, I don’t know your life.) But let’s face it: the vast majority of people who purchase sex toys for someone else are bad at doing so. So I’ve put together this little guide for you to read before you leap into your holiday shopping!

Make sure they actually want a sex toy. If you buy a giant veiny dong for someone who’s barely comfortable saying the word “vagina” out loud, sorry – you’re missing the mark. Sex toys, like porn and perfume, are a highly personal purchase, and so you should probably only buy one for someone else if you know for a fact that they want one, because they have told you so. Ideally, you should buy one that they’ve mentioned wanting, if indeed they got specific.

Do your research. You can read the toy’s specs on its manufacturer’s website, but if you want the juicy details, you should seek out some sex toy review blogs. (Hint: you’re on one currently! And there are plenty more in my sidebar.) Thorough reviews will give you a sense of what the toy feels like, what it’s good for, and any potential drawbacks it may have. Pro tip: it’s good manners to buy through a reviewer’s affiliate links if you can, so they get a financial kickback for the assistance they gave you with their writing.

Think outside the box. Just because a toy can be found in the section of the shop marked “men’s toys” or “women’s vibrators” doesn’t mean it’s limited to being used by only that type of person. People with penises can enjoy products made for vulvas and vice versa. Just make sure anything that’s going in a butt has a flared base and you’re basically good.

Fill a hole (so to speak) in their sex life. While dildo collectors and vibrator hoarders definitely do exist, the average person doesn’t need more than one or two of any particular category of toy. Try to figure out which types of toys your gift recipient has already tried and which ones they haven’t. Maybe they love G-spot stimulation but have never experienced vibration on that spot, for example, or maybe they’re curious about anal play but don’t yet own a butt plug. You get the idea!

When in doubt, get a gift card. Seriously: buying sex toys is highly personal and, for many people, quite vulnerable, too. Your giftee may well prefer the freedom to pick out their own, on their own timeline. You can still feel good knowing you’re bankrolling their pleasure.

What’s your strategy when buying sex toys for someone else?

 

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

How to Flag as Kinky on a Dating Site

Kate Sloan

Dating while kinky is hard! The majority of people are vanilla (or think they are), so having BDSM proclivities can narrow your dating pool significantly, especially if your kinks are a crucial part of your sexuality.

However, kinky people have been flagging to find other kinksters since time immemorial, and though online dating sites are a far cry from the cruising parks and leather bars of yore, you can flag there, too. Here are some ways to do that!

Consider a dating site specifically for kinky people

Though they are certainly rarer and smaller than vanilla dating sites, kink-specific hubs – like BDSM Dating Only – are out there and are worth a shot. You’ll have fewer potential matches to choose from, sure, but the ones you can choose from will be more open-minded than the average person when it comes to kinks.

Include visual cues

These are likely to go unnoticed by vanilla viewers, but kinksters will pick up on them right away. For example, you could wear a collar in some of your photos, frame one of them so your prized impact toy collection is visible behind you, or share a photo of you all dressed up at a kink event.

Use kink language

When you describe yourself in your profile, for example, you could note as an aside that you’re “subby,” “sadomasochistically inclined,” “sexually open-minded,” or whatever wording works best for you. You could call yourself a “good girl,” a “leather boots enthusiast,” or “a whiz with a paddle.” Get creative!

Mention kinky interests

Do you like going to munches? Are you passionate about leather culture? Is Mollena Williams-Haas one of your all-time favorite people on this planet? Again, vanilla people will mostly just skip over this information, while kinksters’ ears will perk up immediately. You could also just keep it simple and include the word “kink” in a list of your interests.

Link to kinkier stuff elsewhere

For example, you could provide your FetLife username so potential paramours can go creep your profile and see if you’d be compatible. Or you could link your R-rated Instagram page to your profile, to satisfy curious connoisseurs. Or, if you’re me, you could say, “I write a blog; you can check it out at girlyjuice.net”!

Hint with your media preferences

For example, listing Secretary as one of your favorite movies could raise some eyebrows (just don’t list Fifty Shades – a lot of kinksters hate that franchise, for good reasons!). You could slip The New Topping Book or SM 101 into your “favorite books” section. Mention favorite podcasts like Why Are People Into That? and The Dildorks (hiiii!). Like-minded people will message you in a tizzy about your impeccable taste!

Just say it

It only needs to be one line of your profile – something like “I’m kinky as fuck and ideally looking for a sadistic dominant person,” or “I prefer to take control in the bedroom and am looking to date submissive folks with a masochistic streak.” This approach has the advantage of being amazingly clear, but it may also discourage people who only maybe-sorta identify as kinky, or who find your openness about kink a bit overwhelming. That said, if you know what you want, you may as well come right out and say it!

How do you like to flag as kinky on dating sites?

 

Heads up: this post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

On Being a Sex Doll

Kate Sloan

Content note: this post deals with consensual objectification and erotic hypnosis. It also mentions dissociation during sex.

 

For many people, sex is about being intensely immersed in the moment. Synapses fire, nerve endings sparkle, lungs undulate, hearts hammer. You’re hyper-aware of every feeling, every word. Your mind records the memory in technicolor and real-time.

But what about sex where you lose focus, drift away inside your brain, and zone out? That can be wonderful, too, in its own way.

Let me be clear: I am not talking about dissociation, the likes of which one might experience during a trauma or a mental health episode. That’s a big issue for many people during sex, for various reasons, and usually characterized as something unwanted. What I am talking about is a wanted thing, a consensual thing: sex while deliciously mindless.

This type of sex is mostly what I think of now when I look at pictures of sex dolls. I don’t have a penis, and I’m not usually attracted to feminine people (or their silicone facsimiles), so I don’t think about fucking these dolls so much as being one. Being a toy made for someone else’s pleasure, a receptacle for release, an outlet for the stresses and tensions of the day.

Girl on the Net, a fellow submissive and rough-sex aficionado, put it thusly: “Fuck me like you’re wanking.” I nodded along when I read her post, recognizing in her fantasy my own long-held desire to be used. This isn’t the type of sex I want all the time, or even most of the time – I usually prefer to be treasured, adored, doted upon – but sometimes I just need to turn off my brain and my own needs and wants and be someone’s fucktoy.

More pieces of this fantasy clicked into place when I started dating a hypnosis kinkster. There’s a lot of crossover between hypnokink and fantasies like “dollification” and “bimbofication”: reducing a usually competent, articulate person to a static, dim-witted version of themselves. At first, I didn’t understand this fantasy – who would want to feel unintelligent, especially in a situation where seeming attractive is important to most of us? – but, in deeper subsequent explorations of subspace, I’ve come to understand why someone might want to feel… not lesser-than, but… blank.

It’s nice to have a quiet, calm mind sometimes, especially for those of us with anxiety disorders that keep our thoughts racing at breakneck speeds toward nothing in particular – and especially in situations like sex, where thoughts of inadequacy and insecurity can quickly blossom.

I can imagine my partner taking me down into a deep trance and telling me, in his serene baritone, that I am a doll. A sex toy for his use and enjoyment. Maybe he’d describe my attributes to me, to paint a clearer picture in my mind; I’d want to be blonde and busty, like the Christa sex doll. He’d help me empty my brain out, leaving behind nothing but silicone skin and a blank stare. And then I’d be ready for him to fuck me, use me, take out his stresses on me.

You might be wondering what I would get out of fulfilling a fantasy I wouldn’t even be mentally present for. It would thrill me and please me, in retrospect, to feel the signs of having been consensually used without having a clear memory of what exactly was done to me. But the abyss of trance is its own pleasure, in a way. Imagine times you’ve zoned out while staring out a car window or waiting in line; perhaps you couldn’t fully remember, once you came back, where you’d been or what you’d been thinking about – because, quite likely, it was nothing at all. That blank state, when accessed with purpose and care, can feel like a warm blanket thrown over your brain: safe, cozy, and lovely in and of itself.

And since my partner has a massive hypnosis fetish, and gets off on seeing me in trance, the vacant look in my eyes would make me an even better sex toy for him.

 

Thanks so much to the folks at SexDolls.com for sponsoring this post!

Love and Lust: The Universal Language?

Kate Sloan
At the top of the Palatino in Rome.

Where did the fantasy first arise in my life of having sex with someone who doesn’t speak English and whose language I do not speak? Was it the Love Actually subplot where a British befuddled Colin Firth has an awkward-yet-romantic dalliance with his Portuguese housekeeper Aurélia? Was it the lesbian erotica story I read in some anthology whose name has been lost to time, where an English-speaking tourist meets and seduces an exclusively Spanish-speaking woman at a nightclub while on vacation? Did I see it in porn somewhere and internalize it? How did this become one of my formative ideas of the magical heights of romance?

Though the lingual disconnect is played for laughs in Love Actually and spun into lusty wonder in the erotica story, it obviously poses many real-life logistical issues that could prove unsurmountable. These romanticizing tales want us to believe love (or lust) is the ultimate human “language,” that it can overcome cultural barriers and connect us even in the face of communication obstacles. This narrative erases and harms asexual and aromantic people, and it isn’t even accurate. Humans developed language for a reason: we need it. Sex and romance are nebulous enough already, even when you do speak the same language, because often these feelings are difficult to put into words, even for yourself. Being reduced to gestures and facial expressions when trying to explain your feelings to someone seems like hell, especially for someone like me who thrives on words of affirmation.

Not to mention: in our recent (and less recent) cultural conversations about consent, it’s become clear that verbal consent is the gold standard for ensuring a sexual encounter is on the up-and-up. There are certainly ways to acquire and give consent non-verbally, and arguably most consent is given and gotten in this way, but I think it only works because it’s usually combined with some verbal element. Sure, you can read someone’s body terrifically, but at some point you’re probably gonna ask, “Is this okay?” or “You like that?” or “You want more?” and it’s hard for me to imagine navigating sex safely and responsibly without the ability to even do that.

That said, I’d be lying if I claimed this fantasy never crosses my mind anymore. Like many fantasies, it’s unfettered by logistical considerations when I ponder it in private moments. I can imagine that me and this other person can read each other’s bodies perfectly, almost like we’re reading each other’s minds, without needing a common language to know each other’s most intimate wishes. Afflicted by anxiety, my brain often floods with worrying words during sex – the very activity that’s said to steal your words away and quiet your mind – so it’s, in some ways, a comfort to consider sex wholly without words. Who would I be, and what would I feel, if I could quiet my mind and focus only on my body and someone else’s?

I think another movie, Before Sunrise, fanned the flames of this fantasy for me. In it, two travelers – who are from different continents but both speak English – have a chance meeting on a train zooming through Europe and embark on an impulsive all-night adventure in Vienna. I’ve longed to go to Vienna since seeing this film; the landscapes and locations strike me as achingly romantic. And because I’m a perv, I imagine that if I met an attractive German-speaking local there, we’d somehow flirt non-verbally, kiss under an Austrian sunset, and wander into a sex shop or Fleshlight store together to look at the “mini vibratoren” that we would then use in a majestically-lit hotel room later on.

Verbal communication is pretty much the only type I’m good at – and sometimes not even that – but somehow, in my fantasy, I get by just fine without it. And there’s a lot of kissing and orgasms and maybe some giggling atop a giant Ferris wheel.

Do you have any fantasies that you know wouldn’t work in reality?

 

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

5 Myths About Sex Work

Kate Sloan

It’s disheartening that sex work is still so stigmatized in 2018, even after the groundbreaking work of so many sex workers’ rights advocates throughout history. Whorephobic language is commonplace in our media and even our everyday conversations. Stigma against sex workers literally endangers their livelihood and their lives. This has to stop!

I’m not a sex worker (more on that later in the post), but my friends and internet acquaintances in the industry seem to encounter a lot of the same frustrations over and over again. I’ve quoted some of them here, since they would know better than I would, obviously! Here are some common myths about sex work that really need to be busted…

Sex workers are “selling their bodies.”

I mean, in a sense, we’re all “selling our bodies” – or at least renting them out – because our bodies are involved in the labor we do. Coal miners, retail workers, teachers, lawyers, doctors… All of these people use their bodies to do their work. I’m using mine right now, typing this! Sexual labor is labor; there is no moral law that somehow makes sex work worse than any other kind of work.

Sex work is inherently demeaning.

Someone like Marx might argue that all work is inherently demeaning, since you’re exchanging your labor for the human-invented construct that is money… In any case, people who choose sex work often have excellent (and even empowering) reasons for doing so, not that their reasoning is anyone else’s business anyway! If you don’t think working construction or retail (for example) are demeaning, then it doesn’t make any sense to think that about sex work, either. There’s no reason a brothel would necessarily be a worse workplace than, say, McDonald’s or the Gap. And if you do think those other kinds of work are demeaning, maybe your problem is with work in general, in which case you should go lobby for better employment rights and/or basic income instead of yelling at sex workers!

“Cleos on Nile in Brisbane, the capitol of Queensland, is very pro-sex workers’ rights. They provide everything for the ladies to work independently within the venue. The women work for themselves (no pimping) and can refuse service to any client they like. The venue provides everything for the service providers to work in comfort, from cable TV and internet to food and private smoking areas. Condoms, etc. are also provided free of charge, as only safe sex practices are permitted for everyone’s safety. The brothel is owned by an ex-worker who worked for herself for 25 years before saving enough to buy what has become the most successful brothel in the state.” –Lynette Black, owner of Cleos On Nile

Sex work is easy money.

Hahaha, no. I’ve barely dipped my toe into sex work and even I know this one is bullshit. As with any kind of work that relies on building a clientele, maintaining a career in sex work can take a lot of time and energy. Whether you’re crafting and posting ads for your services, filming and editing content for a clip store, promoting the hell out of yourself on social media, or perhaps all three and more, there’s no doubt that sex work is an effortful enterprise. That effort deserves to be recognized and acknowledged!

There’s only one way to do it.

A lot of different activities can be classified as sex work, not just full-service work like what goes on at Brisbane brothels. Cam performers, dominatrixes, phone sex operators, strippers, and porn performers are just a few examples of different types of sex workers. The World Health Organization defines sex work as “the provision of sexual services for money or goods,” which, of course, covers a broad range of transactions. While I have done certain forms of sex work – camming, selling nudes, selling panties, paid sexting and phone sex, and being a sugar baby – I don’t typically call myself a sex worker because I don’t experience sex work-related stigma or oppression to the same degree as many people who do this work on a more full-time basis and/or for survival. All this to say: sex work takes many forms and all of them come with their own challenges.

All sex workers have STIs.

Oh my god, so much to unpack here. So, first of all, having an STI isn’t something we should stigmatize. Many, many, many people have STIs, and many of those people prioritize disclosure, treatment/management, and transmission prevention. But on top of that, remember: sex workers’ sexual health is their livelihood, so of course they take it seriously, and some research has even found sex workers have lower STI rates than the general population (makes sense, if you ask me!). This is particularly true in places where sex work is decriminalized or legalized (just ask escorts in Brisbane) – demonstrating that making something illegal and/or difficult to do just makes it more difficult to do safely and healthily.

What myths about sex work do you wish would just go away?

 

Heads up: this post was sponsored; however, as always, I support and agree with all of the sentiments therein!