You Have Been Weighed, Measured, and Found Wanting

What we do matters. Period. We are also human and will make mistakes. Period. I’m not judgmental when it comes to things that don’t harm others. Or when it comes to mistakes that someone takes responsibility for. But not owning your mistakes? I’ll judge. Blaming others, projecting your hatred, bigotry, and so forth, and I’ll judge. Because that’s what judgment is for. It’s for looking some abusive bully in the face and passing judgment.

I’ve been protecting abusive people my whole life. And most of the time, it was expected. “So and so is family…” “He just has anger issues.” “If you’d told me what I said was offensive before I said it, I’d not have said it.” “I’m not sexist. I just don’t think women should make as much money.” “I’m not racist, but people from China don’t have a soul.” Yeah… I’ve heard it all… And I’ve been expected to ‘put up’ with it because it’s a co-worker, or a relative, or someone in the industry, or some complete stranger at the grocery store that I am still expected to respect because that’s good etiquette.


Even now, I sit here pissed as fuck at dumbshits that are so fucking stupid that they think a women’s only podcast is somehow women hating men. This person has chosen to label any woman that wants nothing to do with him a ‘mean girl’. And tonight, I’m dealing with someone telling me I should buy a book with a known bigot in it because there are non-bigots in it too. And I shouldn’t blame the editor for publishing a bigot.


I will not take part in anything that makes me compromise my morals or my integrity. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for that. I don’t owe anyone my money.

I don’t owe racist, misogynistic, women hating, man hating, trans hating, gender hating, gay hating, bi hating, religion hating, disable bodied hating, class hating, mental disability shaming, abusive bullies an explanation for why I pass judgment on them. I don’t owe them my time or my energy. It is not my responsibility to teach you assholes why you’re fucking up. That’s your job to figure out.

Accountability. Responsibility. Have some.

Part of abuse is that abusers will convince the abused that what happened is somehow their fault. They build this expectation of ‘you should have done this instead’ or ‘said this instead of that’ or ‘if you loved me you’d know that I meant it this way’. I could go on for hours here. It’s all deflection. It’s all blaming others for their poor behavior.

We are responsible for our actions. We are responsible for what we say and do. Even when we aren’t abusive per se, but just fucked up–made a mistake–we’re still responsible.

D has often told me that I can be prideful as fuck. And ohhhh so stubborn. But when I’m wrong, I own it. I apologize. I try hard to make it right. This doesn’t have to be an intentional thing. Sometimes I don’t know something and when I learn that what I’ve said is offensive, I work hard to shift my narrative and get the hurtful speech out.

Even recently, with all my hard work to understand privilege and intersectionality, I say things that are racist or misogynistic. I don’t mean to, but it’s been all around me. So sometimes things slip out and I catch it and apologize. I acknowledge that what I said was wrong and why, then I shift my speech. It’s not hard. In fact, every time this has happened, no one even shamed me for it. The difference between this kind of thing and what the abusive types do has everything to do with accountability.

If I can own my mistakes, so can others.

But that means they’d have to let go of their pride and accept that they fucked up. That they were ‘gasp’ wrong. It means admitting that they didn’t have knowledge of a thing and therefore, said something stupid.

And this is how I can tell someone who is trying from someone that is abusive.

Abusive people want you to take the blame for not educating them enough. Abusive people never admit they’re wrong unless by admitting it, it’s serving some other agenda that is currently more important to them. Abusive people lie about and deny their part. Abusive people twist words to deflect responsibility.

I used to think that if I just explained it right, the asshole telling me that I am a man-hating feminazi would realize I don’t hate men. That I just want equality. That I care just as much and fight daily for men’s rights to be stay at home dads. For men’s right to feel emotions and show them without being shamed. For dad’s rights to get half custody of their kids, or full custody if that’s best. I’m a feminist because I fight for equality. And that’s not just for the gender conforming. It’s for all of us.

It was so ingrained into my head by people and even society, that I still try to take responsibility for not educating assholes enough. But I don’t owe abusive people anything but my judgment and loathing.

If you abusive types want to be better people, then fucking google these social issues. Volunteer to feed hungry kids. Or tutor them. Take a job one day a week caring for a disabled person. Study other cultures. Make friends with folks of other faiths, but not to ‘prove’ you can, do it because they are amazing people that will bring joy to you and you to them.

There are some people I don’t mind educating. There are also folks that haven’t minded educating me. But put the research in first. Get a lot of knowledge, then ask if you need more. Do your homework first so you aren’t expecting others to give a free education. I can’t tell you how fucking tired I get of people asking me to explain sex-trafficking and how that’s different from child prostitution. That’s traumatic enough without having to educate others about it. I do when I choose to, but so many ask me and it’s not because they really want to know. It’s because they want to shove it back on me and make me explain why it’s so traumatic.

I’ve never been one for violence and part of this post was spawned because of all the comments I see about punching Nazis. I know that much of this abusive behavior comes from fear, but it doesn’t matter. Abuse is abuse. Nazis are Nazis. Hate is hate. I’m finally reaching a point where I understand what punching a Nazi in the face means.

It’s not about me physically doing it—unless I really want to go there or am defending myself or others—it’s about me punching them in the gut however I can. For me, that’s with words. Other times with actions. It’s me refusing to buy a book with a known bigot in it. It’s me refusing to sit idly by while someone spouts racist jokes. It’s me telling someone to fuck off when they are bullying someone else and it’s me being able to call them out on it. It’s me telling a woman-hating dipshit that they’re sexist.

I know most people aren’t like these abusive types I’m talking about. So many folks amaze me daily.

Last November, I began my publishing company with a focus on shifting rape culture. This includes equality. No matter someone’s sex, gender, orientation, race, religion, body type or ability, or mental health. Because rape culture is fed by inequality. It’s fed by oppressing and shaming. And this affects ALL of us.

So I opened the company, put out my first call, and what I got back still makes me cry. Even the stories that didn’t work for whatever reason, still illustrated that people get it. All sexes get it. All genders get it. All orientations get it. All body types get it. All races get it. I’ve even read some of the hottest pieces from some very religious folks.

The bottom line? We all want to be seen and heard. And while there are some hugely abusive asshats in the limelight right now, I get to read and publish these beautiful people that do get it. People that want equality and are willing to work at it and learn if they aren’t getting something.

Abusive people get a lot of attention because their hatred is so loud and appalling. But we can punch those bullies in the face. No matter what that means to us. We can shut them up by not giving their hatred a voice. We don’t owe hateful people anything but our healthy judgment of their horrid behavior.

I don’t owe abusive people anything and I never have. I only wish I’d realized this sooner. Better late than never I suppose!

So abusive assholes, this is what I think of you:

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Fuck, Fetish, and Happiness Articles Up!

I have a bunch of articles up on various websites. Enjoy!

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Beginners Guide to Group Sex

Group sex is something that many folks fantasize about. But is having a cock in every hole all it’s cracked up to be? asked author Sienna Saint-Cyr to share some first orgy experiences. Read more…

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Top Online Sex Shops

When it comes to online sex shops, finding one that has a wide selection, quality products, good reviews and great pricing isn’t easy. put author Sienna Saint-Cyr to the task of finding the top five online sex stores. Read more…

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Take My Breath Away – A Breathplay Guide

Breathplay can literally take your breath away, but what is it? What are some important safety matters to consider? Author Sienna Saint-Cyr shares her thoughts with on this popular edge play topic. Read more…

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Yoga For Happiness 3 of 3 – Yoga for Mood Swings

As I ventured into Part Three of this yoga series, I began to see something pop up again and again… The mood is vital to our living a happy life. Psych CentralThe Journal of Depression and AnxietyPsychologist World and many more agree that happy people live healthier lives and make better decisions. Read more…

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Embracing My Inner Schoolgirl

beauty-157044_1280I’m a little wired right now. Despite today being one of the busiest days (weeks really) I’ve had all summer. I should be worn out and earlier tonight I even was, but much has happened since then. Things that helped me open myself to experiencing sex in a way I’ve not before. And it all started with a schoolgirl fantasy of being instructed by my Professor.

To back up a bit, I’ve had schoolgirl fantasies since I was very young. It’s kind of a thing… so much so that when a lot of my old gal pals wanted to spice things up, they’d go shopping for knee-high socks, a pleated skirt, and a very white blouse (that they’d often pop buttons off of for extra sexiness). And many of my male friends owned schoolgirl porn. This fantasy goes back to my early teen years but until recently, I’ve not acted it out.

I think part of the reason for my suppressing it was that I didn’t realize it could be so powerful. It also seemed far more playful than anything else I’d taken part in, and I really wasn’t interested in being playful. I wanted things hard and rough and intense. Silly me… I had no idea how all of these things could also play out while I was being Professor’s giggly, slutty, teenager.

Because that’s what I feel like when I embrace my schoolgirl side. A teen. A slutty teen.

I think I also held back because of all the fetishes, that one just seems so cliché. So naturally, I put judgment on it. I’m glad I’m learning to reserve my judging for things that actually need to be judged. Being a slutty teen isn’t one of those things. Especially since I’m a grown, enthusiastically consenting adult.

So the other day when I was deep in a place of giggly sluttiness, I embraced my deepest most desire to be Professor’s good little slut. It was hard at first to make the word Professor leave my lips. I had to work through some stored trauma first. But it passed quickly and eventually, I was able to beg, “Please make me come, Professor!”

I kept being told to say, “Thank you, Professor,” and each time I did, I had to fight so hard not to come. Not that coming without permission didn’t cross my mind. Because part of what’s so hot for me about being a slutty teen is that I like being naughty and being punished for my naughtiness. I find it so incredibly hot that it even just writing these words is turning me on.

Tonight, I allowed myself to feel this side of me even more. I could hardly wait to be Professor’s slutty teen. I was so giggly and excited that by the time I started talking to Professor and said the word, I was already gone. No brain. Deep in subspace enjoying myself. And the more I embraced this side of me–the more D encouraged me to–the more I felt this very innocent side of me emerging.

I wrote a while back about innocence. What I’d said then was, “Innocence is about our ability to embrace both the good and bad together, choosing to keep our hearts open, being ourselves fully, being present, and loving who we are. When we honor who we are, we maintain a level of innocence that no one can take from us. Being who we are means being vulnerable, and vulnerability carries innocence.” And in many ways, I’ve felt innocent and full of joy.

But when it comes to sex itself and my sexuality, innocent isn’t something I’ve felt. Because I haven’t been innocent sexually. So finding that feeling around my sexuality didn’t seem like something that would ever happen. Even when I consciously recognized that I wanted to explore sex like someone that had never taken part. I’m not talking about some sort of revirginizing ritual. No, no… What I’m talking about is feeling pleasure with innocence. Being able to explore my body and the things that feel good with innocence. I wanted a level of sexual innocence but to achieve that, I knew I had to be vulnerable. And I wasn’t ready yet.

But I am ready now. So tonight, when I cried out with each orgasm Professor rewarded me, I got to feel so young and innocent. So vulnerable and safe in my experiencing sex and pleasure. I got to be silly and stupid and innocent and crushy and come so fucking hard, so many times, that I had to nap afterward.

I loved every second of it.

I’m finally open sexually. I’m finally feeling safe, and therefore, vulnerable enough to explore my sexuality. I feel innocent, like I’m learning how to enjoy my body and others’ bodies all over again. But this time with enthusiastic consent and no fear.

The fear in me around sex is gone. All my judgment and self-shaming gone.

None of this would have come to light if it wasn’t for D truly seeing me and being supportive of my needs and deepest desires. It’s so important that we see one another and support one another. My desires and needs weren’t bad. They weren’t violating consent. Yet I felt ashamed to embrace this wonderful part of me that has now brought me so much joy. And most importantly, innocence with my sexuality that’s leading to the purest and hottest sex.

I love who I am.

I am a silly schoolgirl, a teenage slut.

I am grateful.

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One More Light

I need to feel a lot of emotion tonight apparently. Emo days have been happening a lot lately for the reason I brought up in my last post… it’s the worst time of year for me. Tonight, as I’m thinking about difficult things and feeling things I’d rather not have to feel, I went to put on my favorite ‘go to’ for depression band. But that made things worse. I’m filled with so much sadness now. Way worse than before I put on music. Because my favorite ‘go to’ band for the last sixteen years has been Linkin Park.

While most songs I’ve been okay with since Chester Bennington committed suicide, songs I’d not heard before are coming up on my playlist now. Two specifically that hurt so much to hear tonight. The first, Leave Out All The Rest, the second, One More Light.

It might seem strange that someone I don’t even know is affecting me so much. But it feels sort of symbolic. This group—and Chester specifically—always brought me comfort when I was depressed. They gave me grounding and helped me feel like I wasn’t alone.

Their songs made my feelings less scary and isolating.

But he’s gone. He took his own life. He let his own light go out. And I’m sad and angry and yet still grateful for all he did with his words. Stranger’s deaths have affected me before, but it’s usually when that person was murdered. I’ve never had a stranger’s suicide hit me so hard before.

Since I didn’t know him and can listen to his music long past his death, this feeling of great loss is confusing. It feels like there’s some sort of crossover with my own life. Which is strange because, despite the depression and general disgust with much of our country, I’m not at a place where suicide is an option. It’s not a thought. So the crossover isn’t related to his taking his own life.

I don’t understand where this feeling of crossover is coming from.

I keep going through these deep bouts of depression that are debilitating in the amount of pain caused, but it’s not lasting. Maybe because I’m not suppressing my emotions. I’m letting them out. And that isn’t what used to happen.

Suppressing my emotions so I didn’t have to feel them used to lead to numbness. My whole body would shut down. It’s not now.

Granted, there have been times recently when I desperately wanted to be numb. Because… fuck… things hurt a lot sometimes. But it’s just sometimes. Not all the time.

There is a lot going on right now. Not just in my personal life, but in the world. Massive storms, Nazis, people full of rage… And it’s really bringing me down too. I don’t know how to feel about all of it. I don’t want to hate. I don’t want to take part in things that make me compromise my core beliefs. Yet the things transpiring are calling for a level of response that is hard for me.

I don’t know what to think of all of this. Of my emotions, the state of the world, of Chester and why there’s a feeling of crossover…

In fact, I keep rewriting the end of this. I can’t say what I want to and I’m not sure why. I can’t connect the dots. All I hear in my head is fuck, fuck, fuck… over and over and over and over and over.

I’m tired.

But… no matter how much it hurts or how tired I get, I won’t be another light to go out.

I won’t.

I will feel. I will stay strong. Even when I’m not strong all the way through.

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That Time of Year Again…


Every August, I start going through body memory of things that happened to me. My body aches, I grind my teeth (often breaking some), my jaw and head throb, and this unnerving fear kicks in. It consumes me, even when I know I’m perfectly safe. All of this can lead me down the road to depression and eventually, checking out.

Of course, life doesn’t always help either. I often find myself full of events during late summer, or in sudden need of a job, even the hubby’s car accident anniversary is approaching… So life adds to this feeling.

I really hoped by now that I’d be completely past this body memory/response. I’ve dealt with so much mentally and emotionally that this year has taken me by surprise. Usually, when I work through something, it doesn’t come up again. But this is different. Not only does it keep coming up, but the desires that go with the aches and depression haven’t gone away at all.

And my needs are hefty and intense this time of year.

D has some ideas about how I can prevent this from occurring next year, but for now, I’m still stuck reliving things I don’t want to relive. And not even at a conscious level. That part I have worked past.

While I’m still struggling, I have noticed this year is better. I’m not nearly as checked out as I have been in the past. Each year has offered me a little less pain and reliving of trauma. So while it’s still here, it is less.

Despite the troubling feelings, I’m still getting a lot done. I’ve got books coming out, both with my company and with others. I’m starting the second job that I’ve been so excited for this Thursday. I love my other job too. Org stuff is getting sorted. I’m doing well in so many areas. So it’s frustrating to me that I’m stuck in this one.

I don’t want to ache and hurt. I don’t want to be sad and depressed. Maybe it’s not even depression, I’m not sure. It’s been so many months since I’ve been in that deeply depressed state that I’m forgetting what it feels like. I’m used to being fully present and full of joy now. So maybe it’s depression. Maybe not. But it’s not present or joyful. That’s for sure.

I know I’ll bounce back because I always do. And this year, I have yoga, being present, and all the wonderful things going on in my life to help me.

Most of all, I have great people around me that support me, let me feel what I need to feel, and pull me up when I start to sink. I’m such a lucky girl.

It’s easy to look at my current struggle and be overwhelmed, to want to give up and give in to the icky feelings. But that’s the wrong choice. Because I know what joy feels like and that’s where I want to be.

I create my experiences. I color how I respond to the world around me. And even when I’m struggling with painful body memory, I still choose how I go about releasing it. Right now, that just so happens to be by coming like a little whore for D.

I worked out a lot today. Much through orgasm, as it’s a great way to release. So I will keep creating how I experience this ick because I can. I mean really… why wouldn’t I want to come and come and come anyway?

As tough as these last couple of weeks have been, I’m still in a much better place than I have been when these body memories appeared before. And that’s sweet, sweet progress.

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The ABCs of Body Mod via

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Body modifications—whether a simple statement about personal identity or some kinkier more fetishistic yearning—can be empowering. Sometimes such alterations are controversial and non-consensual, but we trust that any you choose to practice will be just plain fun! Read more on!

— This article was fun to write, and edit, hehem… Enjoy!

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Happiness and Fetish Articles Up

How BDSM Can Help You Find Self-Acceptance Via 

Coming to grips with being kinky when you’ve been raised in a religious or very conservative household isn’t easy. When sex is shamed, let alone any exploration outside of missionary style intercourse, finding out what’s even hot can be a challenge. Yet most of the kinkiest people I know have come from these sorts of family and societal dynamics. Many find self-acceptance through BDSM.


A Guide to Choke Play & Orgasm Control via

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Can cutting off oxygen-rich blood to the brain really make your orgasms better?! We’ve asked author Sienna Saint-Cyr to share her experiences with us on choking, asphyxiation, and orgasm control!

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