Happy! Yay! I’ll let it sit for a week, then start revising, re-revising, cutting, adding, and editing.

I like the story a lot. I like my protagonist, and I like her dominant, strong lover. It was a fun one to write. There’s lots of spanks, lil’ bit of anal, some humiliation, and plenty of orgasms.

Next on the drafting board? I’m not sure. I have a 2,000 word-a-day minimum right now, even whilst revising other stuff, so I’ll think it through and start the next book tomorrow. I so, so want it to be Rock Creek. I think the whole Rock Creek thing is daunting to me. I love Under Order and Social Service. They’re my babies, my first novels, and I feel this pressure to make sure the next book is just as good, if not better, than those.

If I go with Rock Creek, it’ll be novel-length, and if I do my 2,000 minimum, it’ll be drafted by the middle of next month. We shall see, won’t we?

The man from the beach is back in town. More on that soon, I’m sure.

Happy Father’s Day!

xoxo
Sadey

The article is about Lindsey Lohan coming out as straight last month, and how various organizations and people have had a field day with this oh-so-important info. Normally I’d file this kind of thing under ‘don’t give a fuck’, but the commentary by various folks, including Ms. Bussel, is great.

A personal anecdote:

I spent a few months living with, and dating, a male-female couple. We had about five million threesomes. The woman and I had some solo fun together on a couple of occasions, but mostly our fun involved the male third in one way or another.

I told a friend of mine about this experience. Later, when referring to another woman, he said, “She’s bi, like you.”

“I’m not bi,” I replied.

“Uh, yeah you are.”

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Well you must be at least partly bi.”

“Not really, no.”

“But you said you dated a couple.”

“Yeah. I did that.”

He shrugged, and moved on. I’m not sure exactly what his take-away was with that conversation. I was surprised by his assumption, though I don’t know why. Of course he’d assume that, given my history.

But to me, having fun with girls doesn’t equal bisexual. On FetLife and other forums, I label myself as ‘heteroflexible’. That is, I’m het, but I can have a good time with women, given the right circumstances.

My general thought on the matter is: Who the fuck cares? These labels, to me, exist for practical purposes only. As in, when I’m perving away online, I can see if a dude would be into me based on a number of factors, including being straight or bi. Other than the meat-market value of the labels, I can’t figure out a good reason why anyone should care, one way or another, whether a person is straight, bi, or gay.

That, and we’re allowed to change our identities. Lohan can be straight today, bisexual five years from now, a lesbian for some weeks in between, and it doesn’t really matter. Looking at sexuality as a static thing–as in, we always remain the same, no matter what–is all well and good for some, but for others, it’s dynamic. It changes, moves around, depends on relationships and experiences, and that’s okay. Someone can be born with their sexuality. Another person can develop theirs as time goes by.

Well, Ms. Bussel puts it more eloquently than I. From the article:

Language and labels and community are wonderful, but they can’t be forced on other people, and human emotions and sexuality are often more complex than a label and all its attendant baggage can handle. I’d like to think that embracing bisexuality also means embracing those who don’t want to put labels on their sexuality for whatever reason as well as working to create a world where everyone is free to explore their desires, both physically and mentally, without feeling ashamed or concerned about not fitting in to someone else’s preconceived ideas.

Give it a read, it’s interesting.

Happy Friday! I’m looking forward to a relaxing, simple weekend. I’m finishing up a new domestic discipline novella (not David and Rachel, this time), and I’m excited to see how it turns out. I think it’s hot. Lots of sex, lots of spankings, lots of dominance and submission and fun.

xoxo
Sadey

Be sure to play the video on that article. The two goofballs can barely say B, D, S, and M without giggling. #eyeroll.

Okay, so this is good news. Not because the study is conclusive (it isn’t) or even good science, but because it’s about time the scientific community starts tackling BDSM in a mainstream way.

Depending on which survey, 5-25% of Americans are in some way interested in BDSM. Even on the low end of that estimate, that’s more than enough to make ‘kinky’ something that isn’t abnormal. Being kinky isn’t wrong. It’s not even unusual.

I live a bit of an isolated life. I don’t surround myself with bigots, or judgmental people. Most of my friends are sex-positive, lots of them are kinky, and all of them are open-minded. So, I forget that we’re still, as a society, working on lots of phobias and ‘isms’: Racism, sexism, and homophobia are huge issues.

Yet even in my circles of friends, while racism, sexism, and homophobia are taboo, looking down on BDSM practitioners or labeling them as freaks is still socially okay.

A few things happened recently, reminding me we’ve still got some work to do. More studies will help. More talking. More education. More of us, when we’re able, should come out of the closet with our kinks.

I’m privileged, because I don’t have a job to risk if I’m ‘out’ as a kinkster. I have open-minded friends who, on hearing that I’m kinky, kind of shrug and move on, unless they’re super curious, and then we talk and it’s fine. I’m able to say, “Shush, I’m kinky, it’s not a big deal. Yeah, that’s right, I don’t wear leather, I appear completely normal, but in the bedroom? I love getting tied up, beaten, and called a dirty slut.”

I’m able to do this because the potential negative consequences for me are so minimal, it’s just not an issue at all.

We don’t all have that freedom. A lot of kinksters must keep their proclivities a secret, or risk getting fired, being ostracized by their friends, or getting disowned by their families/losing their kids. In some countries, it’s illegal, which is…well, it’s silly. And sad.

Some anecdotes from my own experiences ‘coming out’:

• A blog I follow about homesteading posted a photo of a woman with “SLAVE” tattooed on her back. Under the photo, they wrote a terrible caption, something to the order of, “These are the kind of people we find at the local Wal-Mart.”
  Which is wrong on many levels. I commented, under Sadey Quinn:
  “I normally comment on your blog using a different name. I’m not usually one to quote scripture, but…Judge not lest ye be judged.”
  They removed the photo immediately. But, wow. These are people who are open-minded and alternative. They’re Burners, therefore almost certainly have friends who are into BDSM. Yet they were still squicked, and felt the urge to ridicule this woman for her tattoo.
• I was having a beer with some friends at a local pub. By pure coincidence, a group of kinksters were having a meeting at the same time, same bar. The guy I was seeing at the time kept quiet–he’s ‘vanilla’, but knew about my interests. Others at our table? Not so quiet, no. Among several rude things they said, one of them actually suggested that we all join the kink-group, kind of like spectators at a zoo. To observe the freaks in their natural habitat.
  I told them I was kinky and I’d probably go to the next meeting. They shut up, though two of them did continue giggling and eventually went to perform their zoo-experiment.
• At brunch with girlfriends, one of the women mentioned that her boyfriend wanted to dominate her. She wouldn’t mention exactly what he wanted to do to her, but instead weaved this long storyline about how uncomfortable she felt doing the unnamed thing. It actually took her about five times more words to describe the issue, simply because she wasn’t willing to bring up explicitly what the issue was.
  All of us were empathetic (it sounded like a fairly typical unawareness of boundaries on her dude’s part), and at one point another woman said, “God, I’d never wear a collar or leash in public.”
  “I have,” I said. “Not a leash. But a collar, yeah.”
  Some of the women at the brunch may now think I’m weird, but coming out as kinky showed them all that kink isn’t something isolated, away from our normal lives. Your friends are kinky, your co-workers, maybe even your sisters or brothers. It’s not unusual. And it’s not a sin.

  Coming out as a kinky person can open minds of our already open-minded friends.

  Coming out as a kinky person does not mean we need to (or should) share explicit details of our kinks. 

Some thoughts on mainstream media and science-y stuff:

• In the 1980s, the American Psychiatric Association stopped labeling BDSM as a mental illness. However, it wasn’t until the latest edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders that us kinksters got completely off the hook. Now, it’s only a disorder if you’re unhappy about your interest. So…that’s good-ish.
• Fifty Shades! As much as many people hate the book for the poor writing, lack of editing, and lack of a decent storyline, Fifty Shades has been a mostly-good thing for the BDSM community. Not because E.L. James went to any lengths to make sure her characters weren’t practicing BDSM as a result of mental health issues–they were–but because Fifty Shades gave people an excuse to try kinky sex. It pushed kink into mainstream. That’s a good thing.
• But! Mainstream media’s portrayal of BDSM, more often than not, includes characters who are suffering from mental health problems. I watched Secretary last night with a friend of mine. I’d forgotten just how messed up Lee and Mr. Grey were.
  Let me be very clear here: Creating media (books, movies, etc) does not come with a condition that one must be fair, portray certain people in a positive light, or take on any moral agenda.

  Creators of fiction have no inherent obligation to take on these issues or fight for human rights, anti-bigotry, or anything else. Fiction is fiction, a story is a story.

  Every time I hear a critique of E.L. James for her nasty portrayal of kink, I get defensive. By sitting down and writing a book, Ms. James wasn’t also signing on to address any issue that you or I might care about. She just wrote a book, and it did well, and now we can deal with and address the consequences in a rational way.
  That said, to counter the mainstream media’s ugly shadow over kinksters, it’s fantastic to see the scientific community reaching out and publishing studies that show BDSM isn’t a disease and that lots of us kinksters are mentally sound–perhaps even moreso, generally, than our vanilla friends.

I think BDSM is fascinating. I’m curious about the evolutionary psychology of kink, about what makes us tick the way we tick, and why some of us are more likely to develop kinky interests than others.

Being kinky isn’t bad or good. It’s just what it is. For some of us, it’s a choice. For others, it’s ingrained, part of our psyche, part of who we’ve always been.

So, onward, science! Onward, to kinksters coming out!

Apologies for the long and rambling post.

xoxo
Sadey

P.S. Under His Roof, a domestic discipline novella, is free through Monday!

Eek!

I tied him up.

He had to help me do this, actually, since I’ve no idea how to tie a secure knot. So, this might’ve taken away from a bit of the sexy, but onward we went.

I teased him. I like teasing people, so it was fun. Sucking his nipples, playing with his cock, hitting all his sensitive zones until he shook…very hot. I liked making him shiver with excitement.

Somehow, after lots of teases, he untied himself.

“How’d that happen?” I asked, eying his arms. I was confused. We had made a very nice knot.

“Dunno.”

I teased him more, holding his hands above his head, pushing my tits into his face, pinching him, playing with his cock. At one point, he wrapped his arms around me and held me hard. That was comfortable. A reminder that he could still overpower me.

“Wanna spank me?” he asked.

“Um, I don’t know.” I thought it through. I was way out of my zone. For whatever reasons, I relate to sex as a submissive. I was ready, at this point, to get back to normal.

“You don’t know?”

“Well…baby steps.”

He flipped over.

This guy has a great ass. I’m not an ass-girl, but if I was, wow. I mean, as a girl who isn’t an ass-girl, his ass is fucking amazing. It’s round, muscular, and…as David’s in Under His Roof (which is free, btw, so grab a copy), it’s ‘perky’.

I spanked him. I’m not sure if it hurt. He made noises. In between, I rubbed his flesh and pinched his ass cheeks.

It was hot, in an odd way. Totally out of my comfort zone, but hot, nonetheless.

“Your butt is getting red,” I said.

He turned back over, and I got on top of him. After riding him until I came, I paused.

“Will you just fuck me now?” I asked.

I wanted normal.

He obliged, shifting us so he was on top, riding me, fucking my mind away.

I don’t think I’m a switch. Not yet, anyway.

Part of the experience was unsettling, but not in a bad way. It was unsettling in a ‘I’m-not-used-to-this’ way. It was also exhausting. I’m much more empathetic to the work it takes to dominate, now, though I think it was partially exhausting for me just because of my nerves. Seriously, though, to be the one planning the course of events, making things happen, checking in, etc…wow. Not an easy job. I know many men (and women) get off on that control, but in any case, it takes work.

Any of you subs out there care to share your thoughts? Have you switched? How’d it go?

That’s all for now. Do zoom over to Amazon to download Under His Roof if you haven’t already. Free is the best price!

xoxo
Sadey

This morning, on my first call, I realized I couldn’t talk.

Like, at all. My voice didn’t work.

I hung up with the confused person on the other line, and took a long break. Guzzled a bunch of water. Tried speaking to myself. Still, no voice.

After a while, it gradually came back. It was weird, it was like the voice you’d get after attending a concert where you’re screaming and yelling the whole time. I mean, I feel fine. No cold, no other symptoms.

Then I remembered! Two nights ago, and again yesterday morning, this guy I’m seeing tried to fuck me until I couldn’t come anymore. He almost succeeded, and I was pretty much screaming and yelling the entire time.

Voice was gone. Cause was sex. I didn’t mention this to my boss.

I can speak again, though I sound like a long-time smoker who’s trying to be sexy. Sorta a throaty, coughy voice. Not the best, but it’s functional.

Other news! I’m home from a trip, and hopefully will be home for a bit. I’m happy to get back to the routine. Now? I’m off to write some sexy!

Happy June, smut-lovers.

xoxo
Sadey

Thanks, also, to Skye Warren for hosting and organizing the hop!

Several commenters gained multiple entries by following on twitter and Facebook. Out of the 38 comments, there were 72 entries. I’m excited by that–I love to connect with other readers and writers!

The three winners were randomly selected, and have been notified by e-mail.

More soon, I’ve some news to share. Some of it’s sexy.

xoxo
Sadey

Summer is close. So close, I can almost feel it. Here in Austin, the cool nights have given way to warmth, and I’m fearfully anticipating the summer heat. Just how hot will it get?

I’ve been warned. It will get really really hot.

But hot days mean time in air-conditioned cafes, writing spicy fiction, spinning naughty tales. Austin has a humongous natural spring, too–the water kind of spring, not the season–and Austinites flock to the cool water, getting relief from the heat. I’m looking forward to afternoons there, taking quick dips, soaking up the sun. Yum.

This hop is filled with fantastic prizes. One lucky commenter will win a $100 gift certificate to Victoria’s Secret. Second prize is a digital gift basket of five sexy books.

On top of the grand prizes, every participating writer is having a giveaway of their own. On my blog, I’ll be choosing three winners! The prize: a digital copy of one of my books, winner’s choice.

To enter on my blog, and to be entered to win one of the grand prizes, simply leave a comment below. I’ll grant additional entries into my personal raffle for any readers who follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and/or subscribe to my blog. Be sure to mention in your comment if you’ve followed (or you’re already following) me on a social network.

(For winners who already own my collection–and I mostly know who you are–I’ll send ya a print copy of your choice: Social Service, Under Order, or Spanktastic. Signed and sent by moi)

Be sure to cruise around to the other participating blogs for more prizes and more opportunities to win that Vikki’s card!

xoxo
Sadey

SQUEEEEE!!!

Sometimes when I’m excited, scared, or surprised, I make a super high pitched noise. Examples, eh…let’s see…

When I’m riding in a car and the driver makes a sudden move, or swerves. I squeak.

When the air popper-of-popcorn goes crazy, and shoots out kernels, seemingly aimed directly at me. I squeak. I did this in front of my roommate the other night, who said, “That was weird. And really cute.”

When a package arrives! Oooh that’s the best. Squeak squeak.

And, when I [finally] publish a book I’ve been sitting on for nearly a year: SQUEAK SQUEAK FUCKING SQUEAKERY SQUEAKING!

Odyssey for Passion is available for the Amazon Kindle. I’ll be putting this baby into print soon, too, and of course distributing to other venues (Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and AllRomanceEbooks). For now, it’s exclusively on Amazon. I haven’t decided on the perfect excerpt yet, but when I do, I’ll post it.

For now, just couldn’t wait one more minute to say: IT’S DONE. And it’s fabulous.

*Hair-toss*

xoxo
Sadey

The funny thing about sex dreams is that sometimes pleasure comes from the unexpected.

Once, and only once, I orgasmed in my dream. A crazy, amazing orgasm that woke me up. Wow. What’s strange is how I achieved this sexy sleep-climax. I was making out with a crush. He was this fair-skinned ginger, broad shoulders, an incredible body. He swam for the college swim team, and looked the part.

Things were getting hot. Very hot. Then, suddenly, he snaked his tongue into my ear and licked. Boom. Beautiful climax.

I forgot about this dream of mine until recently, when a guy licked my ear. Suddenly the memory crashed back! Ear orgasms! Are they possible? Does an act that kinda grosses me out–wet willies are the worst–actually turn me on?

Experimentation will be necessary.

Other news! I’m done with my Chicago trip. It was a blast. Family, friends, sex, and kink, all wrapped up in two weeks in the Midwest (but definitely wrapped in separate packages). I’ll share a story or two soon of the sexy sides. So, I’m Austin-bound today. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m heading home. It’s a good feeling.

xoxo
Sadey

BUT.

Fucking fuck fuck! Apparently the chick who hit me has the worst insurance in the world, and my lawyers *just now* realized this, so medical costs from this ridiculous ordeal will partly come from my pocket. Which is like…the stupidest bullshit fucking shit fuck ever. It means no more physical therapy, no more doctors appointments unless there’s alarming necessity.

And hooray, there’s a 50% chance I’ll need another surgery! WHEE!! I’ll zoom down to Mexico to have it done, if necessary, so I don’t fall deep into debt.

Taking deep breaths. This isn’t the end of the world, just a speed bump. A rather large, seemingly unsurmountable speed bump. I’m mostly annoyed because it affects this project I’m working on, and was hoping to finish up this fall.

I need a goddamn mother fucking hug.

I will post a happier update soon. Things are okay! Some things are actually really great. Just this particular thing…is very unideal.

xoxo
Sadey