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thoughts of a sakana

A place to say things whenever I have something to say.
1 month ago. Mar 29, 2020, 12:58 AM

Y'all frustrate the fuck out of me some times for SURE. But I love this crazy, occasionally dysfunctional family I'm in.


Recently I've discovered that some of my partners have WILDLY different views than I do. If I'd discovered these views before getting to know them, I probably would have never spoken to these people - and never would have had the incredible interactions that I've had. And I will probably always, until the day I die, disagree with these people on these things. But I love them. And I'm a better person for having met them. They make me question myself, and when I'm done contemplating I can be confident in myself and in the moral compass I've created. And maybe, over time, I'll be an influence on them and maybe their views will change. Or mine will. Who knows.


It's really, *really* beneficial to keep people with dissenting views in your circle, and in your community. 


People are very quick to cancel, to completely ostracize others based on their beliefs. To adopt an attitude of condescension and disrespect. After all, the other party deserves it, right? They're wrong. They attacked you, or your beliefs, or someone important to you. 

I can't say who deserves what. All I know is that the end result caused by this divisive attitude is not in line with what either party claim to want. 


I've been personally very offended by the views of some here, stuff like polyamory and collars and "the right way to do bdsm". And I do absolutely *everything* in my power to treat these people with the respect I would show any stranger on the street. Because getting defensive or resorting to insults shuts down any chance I have of them understanding how they hurt me. It gets me, and it gets the community, nowhere.


Remaining civil, avoiding the drama, it's not the easiest thing. But it's worth it to me because I don't want anyone to feel like I've felt when I've been told I was "doing it wrong". To me, a peaceful community with respectful discussion and debates are worth setting aside my pride and my desire to win an argument. It's worth resisting the urge to get defensive and personal. It's worth it to abandon the desire to "give them what they deserve". 


Because I fucking love you, and I love this, and I want it to stay this. I don't want a faux-utopia of like minded stepford people, I want discussion and passion and contemplation and self reflection and growth! I want all of you here, whether I like you or not. I want the ignorant to be given a change to learn, I want the experienced to constantly question and evolve! Cause fuck, you're all amazing for just being here, being honest with yourselves about your desires and living your truth. We don't all have to get along but we're family. We're all worth it.


Breathe deep, seek peace<3

5 months ago. Dec 4, 2019, 7:30 AM

Just feeling a bit exhibitionist-y today haha. Enjoy~


5 months ago. Nov 27, 2019, 5:40 AM

WARNING: this blog entry is fucking nasty.


filth has a twisted kind of beauty that goes unappreciated by many. 

and that’s fine - as it should be, in my opinion. it’s all part of the balance. 

from a young age i’ve been obsessed with beauty. very traditional beauty at first, but as i grow and explore and experience, my understanding of beauty is changing into something more… bespoke. recently I’ve had quite a bit of exposure to filth. i’ve started to see the beauty in it, and it keeps running my mind. so here are my thoughts.

The Boulet Brothers offered me a delightfully wicked glimpse into their world of nightmares - a place where filth, horror, and glamour converge. i watched, mesmerized, as their “uglies” ate live spiders, stood barefoot in ice, took needles through their skin, stapled money to their bodies, consumed raw organs marinated in blood, and got shocked by dog collars. i gasped at their costume reveals, at the elegant undead brides and burned corpses, vampires, witches, sideshow freaks, busty reapers and grotesque masked monsters. their artistry and passion shone through the grime, and their performances were incredible, and twisted, and sometimes even beautiful. 

i feel like i’ve begun to understand, just a bit. they said they felt drawn to the darkness because it was full of fellow outcasts and queer folk. it was a home, a tribe, and a safe space - the same purpose the kink community serves to us.

later, an offhanded cactus comment led me down a disturbing pornographic rabbit hole…. well, snake hole, i suppose. for me, the nightmares of Queen Snake were far less palatable than those of the Boulet’s. cunts full of thumbtacks, backs whipped by stinging nettles, toilet brushes being shoved where they shouldn’t. pigsluts rolling in mud. screams of pain elicited by the heat of peppers. an entire toe roughly fucking a urethra. most of these clips elicited small shrieks and big cringes from me. some provoked tears. and some got me hot - a surprise even to me.

at first, i felt like an outsider looking in. i felt like a safe, coddled thing, sheltered by the realms of light. but as i thought, i remembered quite a few brushes with filth i’ve had in my kink journey. i’ve eaten dog food from the floor. i’ve been made to roll in trash, my body covered in old food and sharp plastic and coffee grounds, dripping stinking juice from the bottom of the can. i’ve cleaned a toilet with my breasts, wetting them with water from the bowl before eagerly scrubbing the rim. i’ve defecated outside like a dog, on camera. i’ve had a bloody tampon in my mouth. i’ve fucked my ass with food then eaten it. i’ve drank my own piss.

if you had told me i’d do any of that when i was a baby sub, i would’ve laughed in your face. i’d always distanced myself from things i felt were “beneath me”, and filth was probably at the top of that list. i wanted to be beautiful and of value, and i assumed those things were at odds. but are they?

i could never call those experiences “pleasant”, but even so i couldn’t be happier with them. those were fairly sizable hurdles for me, all of which i overcame. i’ve started to discover just how deep my need to please runs. and there’s a level of catharsis that comes with the memories. it’s invigorating to let go, to not have to be perfect or beautiful or clean. to reconcile your ego. 

the realm of filth runs deep, and the deeper you go the harder it is to find the beauty. i know there’s much worse out there, i do. and the *truly* heinous, the evil, the place infested with fear and malice and death is not a place i ever want to see.

but here, just beneath the topsoil, it can be… tantalizing. 


i sink into the cool, damp muck, millimeters at a time. the pungent decay of rot and fungus and shit fills my nose. earthworms slink across my stomach, flies suck the moisture from my eyes. spiders scuttle through the hair under my arms, dozens of tiny black eyes alert for prey to sink their fangs into. maggots squirm against my tongue, beneath my permanent, feverish grin. the screams and laughter, the guttural, metallic, cacophonous music has faded, leaving a looming, ringing silence. i am a Dionysian casualty, succumbed to the throes of madness....


even now, i don’t see filth as “my place”. i still feel most myself in the clouds, surrounded by beauty and light. 

it’s just nice to dip my toes in the sludge every now and again.



i’m dedicating this to the Two i served who gave me my first real taste of filth. i thank you, deeply; You’ve both done more for me than You probably know.

6 months ago. Nov 13, 2019, 8:51 AM

I'm a hedonist, I get off on this shit.


You have no idea, the parties, the excess....


Pleasure transcends sex. I feel it in so may ways. In food, in music, in conversation, in travel, in discovery, in new experiences, in substances, in submission, in pain, in beauty. Pleasure is my raison d'etre. the brain chemicals, it's really as simple as that. whatever makes me feel this fucking good....


I lose my goddam mind. When I'm on the rail, breaking my neck to a filthy bassdrop. When I'm getting fucked stupid, when I meet a complete stranger on the street and engage with them like I've known them a lifetime, when I'm in a sex club getting used like the object I am. Puppy space, object space, slut space, rope space, rave space, gourmet space, all of it. Ugh. Wherever. I'm too deep in my own realities. It's entirely unreal, makes you question everything. And then nothing, because you don't need to think.


Just drown. Just revel. Dionysus and the gods of chaos await. And giving in feels so sweet.

Reveling in madness, giving in to the most primal desires..... 


I do this as often as I can. I want it all the time, I can't pass it up. I love it, during and after. The high is surreal. After, my body will be aching and sore, and every painful movement reminds me of how alive I am and how incredible my pleasure is. 


And maybe someday I'll actually pay for it. But until that day I'll continue to indulge.

6 months ago. Nov 11, 2019, 8:18 PM

Just leaving this here. I just found this and I really like his perspective on safety and safewords.



I don't really ever use my safewords - or at least I haven't in the past. I don't want to disappoint my partners, I want to push myself, and I really reeeeally don't want to end a scene. But having a stoplight system in place, and double checking, is a really good thing, because you can more closely monitor what's actually going on. Green and yellow should be used to steer the scene in the right direction, so that red doesn't have to get called.

And I definitely agree with there being personal responsibility. A dom can check in and ask how their sub's doing, but can't effectively manage the situation if they aren't given truthful information.


So that's something I can work on personally, communicating more effectively through a safeword system during scenes.


....just some thoughts. Have a great day, y'all. ^^ <3

6 months ago. Nov 8, 2019, 6:50 PM

My Mistress needed a vase. Her boyfriend had sent her flowers.


She had that sexy lip-bite smile and twinkle in her eye that I love. She said she wanted to do something nice for her husband, for when he came home from work. So considerate.


She ordered me onto the coffee table. Yes, Your Grace. The wood was cold against my bare arms and knees. My ass was facing her front door, and I felt deliciously exposed. She ran a hand up my back as she walked around me.  I gasped as I felt the first cold, rough stem scrape my cunt. She slowly slid them in, on after the other, and I remained still on the table as a good vase should. She came around and kissed me, her eyes filled with delight. 

Such a pretty vase.

Thank you, Your Grace.


It didn't take long for him to come home from work. I heard him stop, but couldn't see his face. He exclaimed, I heard them kiss, he took pictures and they admired me as I was still on the table. It was hard not to beam. I love making them happy. 

7 months ago. Oct 7, 2019, 7:51 AM

To say "I dodged a bullet" would be wildly inaccurate. The gun decided not to fire.


Why do I wish it had?


I met him by chance. Not many girls in that seedy corner of the internet have self esteem and standards, and so I intrigued him. As we conversed he weaved beautifully disturbing fantasies with his silken voice... Perhaps he would happen upon me in an ally and fuck me senseless without so much as asking my name. Perhaps he'd send his friends to join. And if he took a liking to me, maybe he'd keep me in his basement and sell me, to god knows how many men. My existence reduced to a sex toy. My only worth in how much pleasure they could squeeze from my body.




No, his. His body.


Engaging in these types of fantasies with someone I'd just met is, I know, a huge red flag. But being across the pond (and very, very trusting when I'm subby) I risked indulging. I mean, how could I help it? In a matter of hours this stranger had recounted scenes I'd lived a thousand times before in my head, without ever having heard them. He wanted to use me in the ways I wanted to be used. He was terrifying, animalistic, charming, sexy. Almost perfect.


He wanted to break me. Take all my limits and crush them with his bare hands. He commanded me to do something foul, unthinkable. I refused. He was convinced that I'd give into him and let him do whatever he wanted with me. I refused. He came anyway, three times, fantasizing about my sacrificing my morals and humanity to please him. I listened, horrified. Horrified at his pleasure, and horrified at how turned on it made me.


He ghosted me, and we haven't spoken since that night. But I fantasize about him often. He fits so perfectly into that shadow in my fantasies that's sat empty for so long. I pleasure myself imagining him raping me, then tossing my exhausted body to his friends to use, smirking down at me as I babble incoherently from sensory overload. Reaching my breaking point, begging them to stop, then breaking completely and begging for more. It's made me come countless times since we've spoken. 


I spoke to a friend about the situation after it happened. Their response was "your submission is worth more than that."


I know. I do. But even so, if he reached out to me again, I'd probably give in. I'm very lucky he hasn't.

*sigh*. I know better. I do. But a sub can dream. 

10 months ago. Jul 19, 2019, 2:09 AM



I'd never met anyone with a pierced hood before. Never given much thought to it, until that weekend. And god, what a weekend. The four of us (plus the occasional guest) indulging in pleasure and debauchery for three straight days. The ladies both had theirs done. I can close my eyes and picture it. They were so beautiful, with those little jewels glistening above their lips. The metal clicked against my teeth as I pleasured them. Their moans and wetness got me hot.


It was sexy as fuck, and it got me thinking. I'd always disliked being eaten out, and I realized that was primarily because I was self conscious of my body. I decided it was stupid to be so paranoid of what others would think of my vagina, and that I was being rude to myself for treating it like something to be ashamed of. 

I thought, and I wanted to change. I wanted to get my cunt pierced. 

I told them, and we went the next day. I haven't gotten anything pierced since I was a kid and I was scared as hell, but in the end it barely hurt and I couldn't be happier with the results.


Jewelry is a decoration, a form of self expression and a way to accentuate one's appearance. To have my cunt literally dripping jewels is such a beautiful way to express my sexuality, and to appreciate my body for the pleasure it gives me.

I really love showing it off, so I hope you enjoy. :)



1 year ago. Apr 16, 2019, 8:48 PM

{this blog is different from what I normally post; if you don't like sexually explicit stuff then this one is not for you. this is NOT fiction - I just had a really awesome night and felt like blogging about it. ^^}


He didn't fuck me last night. I loved every second of it.


I was just leaving work last night when I got his text. "Do you want to come watch tonight?"

Immediate response. "Yes please Sir. Thank you!"

"This will be very service oriented. You'll massage her and watch us. You probably won't get much of me, is that okay?"

"Completely fine, thank you Sir."


I went to his at 1:30am. There was a beautiful girl I'd never met in his apartment, her nipples and bellybutton pierced, her skin covered in ink. I gave her a coconut oil massage and watched as she sucked his cock. I was permitted to use my mouth on her, and eagerly did so, kissing and sucking and licking her cunt as she continued to pleasure him. He told her I was very obedient and that she could use me as she liked, which made me very happy. 

Then he fucked her. I laid beside them and played with her nipples, her hands grasping at me as she moaned beneath him.  He had me lay on my back beneath her as he fucked her from behind. I licked her pussy as he did, his balls slapping my face. I caught snippets of little nothings they'd murmur to each other, watched them kiss passionately. She rode him, and I licked her tight little ass.

He decided to take a break from fucking her, and we both cleaned his cock at the same time. We'd share his shaft, then she would take him deep while I turned my tongue to his balls. His moans told me we were doing well. I was euphoric; I wouldn't be surprised if I was enjoying it more than he was. 

We spent hours in his bed - the two of them, and the fucktoy they used. He covered her back in cum and I got to clean her up with my mouth. We dried off with a towel and then I just laid with her for a bit, snuggling, stupidly happy. 

They moved to the couch and I sat naked on the floor (personal preference - he makes fun of me for it), and we chatted for a while. Then he told me to dress and escorted me to the door. 


Guys.... fuuuuuuck. Honestly when he first brought up the concept of me watching him fuck someone, I wasn't sure how I'd like it. But I love being used by him so I assumed it would be fine, and I wanted to try it.

And now I know. Being a voyeur is awesome. Being a sex toy accessory to someone else's hot fuck is awesome. And I knew this already, but goddamn I love eating ass.


Hmm. Maybe I should not get fucked more often. 

1 year ago. Apr 8, 2019, 4:29 AM

...........why do we feminize 'dom'? Is the word 'dominant' so intrinsically masculine that it's necessary to add an 'me' to it when using it to refer to a woman?




'cause I think that's dumb. But I'll keep doing it anyway for the sake of inclusivity I guess.... *pouts*