Pee Smoothies

Don’t you hate it when you’re peeing into a guy’s mouth and he starts puking? GOD, fucking amateurs.

Yesterday Mistress Dee and I were peeing on a guy, as per usual. Dee has been giving golden showers for years now and is famous within the scene for being able to piss for over two minutes straight. (She can control it so it comes out at a steady, medium-to-light flow.) But yesterday she had to go really bad, so she asked me to time her on her iPhone while she pissed into the sub’s mouth, to see if she could break her record of 2 minutes and 20 seconds. So the guy laid on his back on the floor and Dee stood over his face and pissed for a solid (I kid you not) 2 minutes and 59 seconds. It was INSANE. And the guy drank nearly every drop of it. He just opened up his throat and was straight-up chugging her piss. It was pretty amazing to watch.

Then it was my turn. I knew my performance was going to pale in comparison to Mistress Dee’s, but by that time the guy was already burping up gross piss burps and complaining of being “full” (eww) so I figured it didn’t matter too much. Plus, I recently learned this new trick where I can keep one foot on the ground for balance, and put my other foot on the sub’s throat so that I can literally choke him while pissing into his face, so at least I had that little gem to offer. (That doesn’t sound like it would be hard but it actually is–you try pissing while balancing on one foot.) So anyway, I started doing my thing and a few seconds into it the guy started vomiting! Lying on his back, vomiting up mouthfuls of pee and then swallowing the regurgitated urine again because he didn’t want to waste any of it. I was like “Uggghghh dude, get yourself together actually.” It was kind of gross. Then I made a joke about how if he was too full to drink my pee now that I could bottle it up and he could have it as a snack later–maybe even mix it with a banana or something and have a pee smoothie. And then Mistress Dee shouted, “Oh my god, pee smoothie! That’s genius!” and I was like “What do you mean?” and she was like “We should make pee smoothies and sell them for $100,” and I was like “Wow, that is a great idea, you are so smart for thinking of that!” and she was like “Thanks, you are so smart too!” and then we laughed in slow motion.

So… this summer Dee and I will be selling smoothies with our combined urine and two fruits of your choice for $100. Order in advance and then come over and get a fresh glass! Email to order. No time wasters.


Photo by Nobuyoshi Araki

Meaningful Conversations

Photo by Nan Goldin

Do you miss me when we’re not together?


No seriously, do you? Because I miss you all the time.


Even if it’s just for one day?

I miss you when I’m not looking directly at you.

Come on, I’m being serious.

That’s why my eyes water in my sleep–I’m crying because I can’t see you.

I hate you, actually. I was trying to be serious, for once.

I am being serious.

Whatever, you’ve ruined the moment.

I didn’t realize this was a moment.

Well it is. All moments are potential “moments” and you’ve ruined this one.

Well, OK then.

Actually, it annoys me how much of a robot you are. You are an emotionless, condescending robot with no friends. People call you an awkward, arrogant asshole behind your back.

Well now you’re just being a bitch.

Who cares, you’re mean to me all the time.

When am I mean to you?

You were mean to me this morning, you told me that I don’t know anything about anything.

Well it’s not my fault that I can’t reference anything about the current state of the world without you having no idea what I’m talking about. It’s like you live under a rock. You didn’t know about the oil spill until two weeks after it happened. I don’t even know how that’s humanly possible.

OK, I admit not knowing about that oil spill thing was bad, but that was a weird period for me. I wasn’t leaving the house much.

Wasn’t leaving the house? It’s called the internet. It’s called being curious about the world around you and having an interest in things other than your own vagina.

God, you’re such a self righteous prick, I can’t stand to be around you. Just looking at you makes me want to die.

Well that’s unfortunate because I find you so pleasant.



I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. What I said was horrible.

I accept your apology.

Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry too?

For what?

For being an asshole to me! For talking down to me, like you always do.

I did not talk down to you. You wish I did. You are just foaming at the mouth, waiting for me to say something mean to you so that you can be offended and become hysterical.

That’s not true. I find arguing very emotionally draining, actually.

It would seem that you thrive on it.

Well I take back my apology, I’m not sorry.

So that’s why you were apologizing? Just to get me to apologize?

No, I meant it, in that moment. But I expected you to be nice to me in return. That’s normally how arguments work: one person takes the high road and says they’re sorry, and then the other person follows suit.

Well I’m sorry if you, in being overly sensitive, were offended by what I said. But I am not sorry for what I said.

OK well I stand by everything that I said, too–I think you are a condescending robot–however I’m sorry that I said it out loud. That was rude of me.

I’m fine with that.

Prom Stories

photo by William Eggleston /

To my first prom, my junior prom, I brought a freshman. It was a last minute thing, as I didn’t have a date and didn’t want to go on my own, for obvious reasons. The freshman, Sam, was in my art class, and we were going to prom “just as friends”, although I still kind of wanted to fuck him. Why not?, I thought. He wasn’t that cute but he was really funny, and I liked the way his bony chest looked through his thin white T-shirts. I imagined he was probably a virgin because he was only fifteen. Maybe even fourteen. Fourteen would be better, I thought.

About twenty minutes after arriving at prom, after the cheesy photoshoot, Sam asked me if I minded if he danced with another girl—a girl called Annie who was in his class, who had come as the date of some gay musical theatre guy. I said I didn’t mind even though I kind of did. As I watched them slow dance and make out, I wondered if they had planned this whole thing—if he had agreed to come with me because he knew she would be there.

Even though he made out with Annie most of the night, he still came to my friend’s after prom party with me, because he felt obligated. I did not feel guilty for dragging him away from Annie to the party with me against his will, although the whole thing did seem mildly pathetic. When we got there I kept making him shots, trying to get him drunk enough that he would want to have sex with me. At one point he said, “Are you trying to get me drunk so that I’ll have sex with you?” I shrugged, like, maybe. Soon after that his mom picked him up.

A few months later, when we came back to school after summer break, Sam and Annie were officially dating. He lost his virginity to me while they were together. After we fucked, lying in his single bed, he told me that he really loved Annie and respected that she wanted to wait, but that he wanted to have sex with me for practice first, so that when Annie was finally ready he would be, “ya know, like, good at it… or at least not bad at it.” I said that was very thoughtful of him. We continued fucking for the next few months. Mainly in my car, or sometimes in his shower, if his parents were at work. By the end he was pretty good at it. My mom saw Sam in the grocery store recently and told me that he was in medical school.

For my senior prom I didn’t have a date, either. Although this time I cared less because a few of my girlfriends were going solo too, so we planned to just all go together because, ya know “boys suck, we don’t need them, we’re feminists, blah blah whatever.” On the evening of the prom I was feeling super teen-angsty and bad about myself. I had recently dyed my hair dark brown in an attempt to look “exotic”, but accidentally just ended up looking, paradoxically, like tan goth. Also, there had been an eyeliner disaster or two while getting ready, which resulted in some tears and subsequent puffy eyes.

As a joke, one of the popular jock boys in my grade came to prom with a fat blow up doll as his date. Everyone thought that was really funny. “Ha ha, Aaron brought a fat blow up doll in a dress to prom, that’s so funny,” etc. My recent ex-boyfriend was there with his new girlfriend. They both worked at McDonalds. As I sat drinking non-alcoholic punch I wondered if they had been fucking while we were together, in a storage closet at McDonalds during their breaks, or up against a refrigerator full of frozen hamburgers or something. It made me feel nauseous to think about it, although I had also cheated on him multiple times, to be fair. I went to the bathroom and drunk a bottle of cough syrup with my friend Amber.

At an after party Aaron wrote my name on the forehead of his fat blow up doll, held it up and shouted, “Karley, it’s feeding time at the zoo!” Everyone thought that was really funny, too. I wasn’t even fat, although I did have quite large, muscular thighs. I was an athlete. Aaron has yet to leave the small town we grew up in.

Cum Slut Tells a Story

I asked my new slave, who I’ve nicknamed Cum Slut (because if you remember he likes to be forced to eat his own and others’ cum and be called names like “freaky bukkake cumfaced target”–LOL) to write a little story for you all, explaining what happened during our last Domme session together. See, Cum Slut wants to be famous, and he got all excited the last time I posted an email from him (he gets off on the idea that all of you think he’s pathetic and repulsive and laugh at him behind his back) so he asked me if I would be into posting his emails and photos as an ongoing series. I said I’d think about it. Here’s the email he sent me describing our last session, as well as some pics. I have to admit, the pics are good. He definitely ate what’s in that spoon, by the way. The email could have been more detailed, and I would have appreciated more compliments, TBH.

Dream Lover: Behind the Scenes

Remember the video I made with Stacey Mark for Purple TV  back in March? The one where I fucked a magazine? Well, here it is again if you forgot. So… I thought you might like to see some behind the scenes pics from the shoot, to give you a glimpse of the “movie magic”. #lol

Stacey Mark, the director, looking cool and mysterious in the dark.

Important props

Some eerie photos I took of myself to test if the Polaroid camera worked. Twin Peaks vibes?

Stacey’s wall, full of scans and Xeroxes of her photographs, and some random inspirational stuff.

She shot that amazing Jacques cover!

Here’s the storyboard Stacey drew before the shoot. TBH I was semi offended that she drew me as a giant blob.


And this I randomly found on Tumblr! So funny! Thanks !!