But i believe in whatever you do, and i’ll do anything to see it through

So, i went to LA recently and had the kinkiest most wonderful time of my life and then i came home and my kink filled life here seemed awfully vanilla. And i got depressed, and agitated, and annoyed. And i have realized that when my life is not a constant hurricane of cocks and cum and kink and sex then i start overthinking and i start listening to these voices from my old life that i usually brush off. And these voices aid in my frustration, and then i take that anger and misplace it on those who don’t deserve it. And this is not good slave mannerisms. This is not who i want to be. But today i realized something….if you want to be degraded and used by men, you have to let them know. If you want to live a kinky life, you have to go out and find that kink. Humans are so simple, and most of them, almost all the time, want to cum. Being a fucktoy, or discovering any kink, is as easy as you let it. But you have to tell the people in your life. Nobody can read your mind. You have to tell the people that you want to fuck that you want to fuck them, they can’t just figure it out by you thinking really hard in their direction.  You have to get out there and experience it.  i mean, if what you’re after is to be the kind of woman (or man) who fucks anybody who wants to fuck her, you kind of have to fuck anyone who wants to fuck you.  Do it for the fun of it, for the experience, whatever.  Don’t take everything so seriously all the time.  This is a lesson that i keep forgetting i have already learned; sex doesn’t have to be so serious all of the time.

i remember when i first started to explore my kink and look into becoming more sexually adventures, when i first started working and communicating with guys about meeting up and playing. And most of the guys assumed i was a man, or a liar, or trying to trick them into something, some just wanted to talk without ever meeting up, some were freaked out when they realized i was serious. Some were mean and made fun of me.  But some of them took me up on it.  Some of the sex felt good and some of it hurt and some of it was boring.  Some was uncomfortable or awkward.  Some of it was weird.  Some of the guys were actually dominant and some were just pretending and some were just trying it out to see if they liked it. Some of them were big, some were small. Some of them smelled bad and some of them were delicious. None of that was the point, though.  The point was that i wanted to explore different sexual scenes and play with other people, i wanted to become someone for men to use, so i went out and became one.  It didn’t just come to me.  And i forget that if i tell men that i want to be a fucktoy then i will get used like such, it’s that simple. But they can’t read my mind. And i forgot how easy this was, i forgot how fulfilling it was. i forgot how much i love and thrive in this lifestyle. And so i stopped for a little, without realizing it i was getting frustrated at the fact that i wasn’t being used when i was the one preventing myself from being used. Because of these stupid voices.

So, this is for all those fuckhole wanna be wonderful fantastic sluts out there, or really for anyone who is on the fence about exploring a certain kink of theirs….there are a lot of messages women get in this world trying to scare them away from going after what they want sexually.  Most women are shamed for even trying to figure out what they enjoy, whether or not they even do anything about it.  The idea that you can just go out and ask for what you want is something the whole world doesn’t want you to know.  But the truth is, you can do what you want.  You can go after your fantasies. You can be called a slut or a whore and take pride in it. You can get off on misogyny and still be a decent human being. It won’t be perfect every time and that’s okay.  Maybe you’ll regret it, but so what?  You regretted trying to dye your hair ash blonde, too, but regret’s not going to kill you.  Maybe some guy will hurt you, oh, they tell you that all the time.  Don’t you dare meet up with a man you meet on the evil internet or he’ll rape and murder you.  Mostly, no, he won’t.  Mostly, the guys you meet will just be average guys who are horny or lonely or curious.  Mostly the guys you meet won’t be right for you, or you won’t be right for them.  So what?  If you want to get fucked, go out and get fucked.  It’s not the end of the world.  You can have no strings attached sex and the world won’t end.  You can go out and explicitly look for men to treat you like you’re worthless, and you can wake up the next morning with your self esteem intact. That’s allowed to happen.

Today i finally remembered, if you want to be a fucktoy, you have to go out and be a fucktoy. If you want to be dominated, you have to go out and meet dominants. If you want to play with feet, you have to go out and find feet. Whatever your kink is, you’ve got to go discover it. It’s not going to fall into your lap.  The next time some guy asks if you want to go back to his place, say yes.  The next time some guy wants to touch your boobs, let him.  Nothing will happen to you except for how you’ll have just gotten your boobs touched.  Encourage the men who get an intrigued spark in their eye and ask, “Um…how rough are you talking, exactly?”  You’re allowed to tell him, and you’re allowed to let him use you. And more importantly, you’re allowed to like it. Just do it.  Do what you want. Be what feels right for you. You have the right to explore.

xoxo

Harper

** this is taken off of my Fetlife profile, but is tamed down a bit for vanilla followers. To read the full version just visit my profile**

 

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i’m captivated by you baby like a fireworks show

This is a story that i have been wanting to tell for a long long time. And i think it’s finally time that i share it.

How i met N. 

Oh my gosh. Well, let me just start this by saying that this will forever be my favorite story to ever tell anyone. ever. And that it’s magic and sunshine and total chance and that it makes me cry when i think about how lucky i got. But anyways, here we go. So, roughly 1 year ago today i was smoking pot in my roommates closet contemplating the big questions in life like pizza toppings and whether or not silver and gold jewelry can be worn together when she started showing me her tumblr feed. Thinking about it now, i am pretty sure she was looking to show me a joke about vodka and what it does to aid in dance skills, but that’s irrelevant. So, she’s showing me her feed and she scrolls past a picture of a rosy butt cheek getting spanked and i was literally like, “What the hell is this?” and she was like oh, that’s just some porn that i follow. Now, for you to understand why this was so significant to me, i must take this time to fill you in on the world in which i come from.

i grew up in a little bitty town in the middle of cornfields somewhere in the southern (i think) parts of PA. i was raised by my father and his wife and have one sister and two brothers, i am the oldest. My mom’s side of the family is mennonite and my fathers side of the family is just a mess. So when my father married his second wife, we all got to adopt her religion which means that i had the lucky fortune of growing up in a family that was filled with both abysmal roman catholics and constrictive old fashioned mennonites. i wasn’t allowed to wear make up, have a cell phone, hang out with boys, go to any birthday parties, stay up bast 8:30, or pretty much participate in life until i went to college. i used to hide a whole separate wardrobe in my locker at school so i could change outfits during homeroom. i didn’t have my first kiss until fall of my senior year and i didn’t have sex until my freshman year of college. i didn’t even know that there was a world were anything more than missionary sex in the dark after dinner existed. So, finding out that my best friend/roommate/fellow raised-mennonite rebel was following a porn blog literally blew my mind. And intrigued me.

Later that night, i remember making a tumblr for myself and i started following porn blogs specifically, under the ruse of curiosity. i felt so ashamed but also a little bit giddy, i kept telling myself that i “just wanted to see what she was looking at, i didn’t want to actually look at it for myself.” But before i knew it i was entranced in this whole new world of BDSM and i couldn’t look away. i no longer just wanted to see, i wanted to feel it and experience it and live it and know it. i immediately knew that i wanted it, for real life, not as a fantasy that sated me before bed. And there was one blog in particular that was my all time favorite; every time i looked at it i ended up playing with myself, longing to live a life that was depicted in the pictures. It took what felt like forever but was probably really just a week or two for me to get drunk enough to message the person who ran the blog. i kept typing messages out trying to introduce myself and then feeling stupid and deleting them, but finally i sent one and i am pretty positive it will go down in history as THE lamest and most unoriginal message to have ever been written by anyone. Ever. Butttt He replied, so i responded with another equally lame message back. And this happened for a long time. Him being all gentlemanly and polite and put together and charming with me being lame and horny and a totally awkward mess.

Our emails went on and on, back and forth, me asking questions and Him showing me more and more of wonderland. i spent my days feeling silly and skittish, jumping every time my phone alerted me that i got a message. i couldn’t explain it then and i can’t explain it now, but somehow my world quickly started centering around His replies and insights. i wanted to be a part of this world that He spoke of, the pictures He painted in His emails became a permanent fixture in my mind. He talked of scenes and parties and toys that made me equally parts embarrassed and turned on. my cheeks were constantly blushing and my cunt was constantly dripping. my days were a blur of tumbling and googling things that He mentioned or introduced to me. i wanted this so bad. i wanted a relationship that was built on so much vulnerability and trust and love, things that had been absent from any of my other relationships in life. Finally, f i n a l l y, He gave me His phone number and asked if we could talk on the phone. i remember getting off of work that night and literally hyperventilating on my way home because i was so nervous. He texted me saying He would call in 15 minutes and i aptly chugged 3/4 a bottle of wine while simultaneously jumping on my best friends bed screaming my head off. No chill was present. He called me and we talked and i fell in love. Immediately. i was overwhelmed and mesmerized and helplessly smitten. After that i can only explain the next few months by saying it literally felt like i had fallen down a rabbit hole. i was confused, and ecstatic, and overwhelmed, and shaken, and in awe, and excited….i felt every feeling with such extreme intensity it left me breathless. He introduced me to my mentor and i am telling you if it wasn’t for her i wouldn’t be here. N showed me a whole world that rebuffed everything i had ever known. my whole life started looking like a lie, it looked sad and pathetic and colorless. But His life, well His life was full of glitter and adventure and excitement and neon colors. In N’s world i had meaning, i had worth, life had a meaning that ran deeper than the lessons i had been taught.  We talked on the phone a few nights a week and continued emailing but i wanted more. And just when i thought i couldn’t want Him anymore, i met Him in person.

The first time i met N……i almost didn’t. i don’t even know where to find the words to explain my life that night. On my way to meet Him, i turned my car around 4 different times deciding once and for all that there’s no way He would ever like me and that i was just going to disappoint Him. i was on the phone with my mentor (slavegirlalex) and to be honest, i still don’t know how she talked me into following through with it, i honestly have no idea. But miracle of miracles, i finally got to the bar and parked and started walking in and my legs were shaking so bad that i literally collapsed. On the sidewalk. In front of lots of people, my knees just gave out completely. It was horrifying. i just couldn’t get it together, i wanted it so bad. i wanted Him and His life and His ideas, He was unlike anyone i had ever met before and i just wanted Him to like me so much. In order for you to understand how much this meant for me you need to know how much i dreamed about this. Growing up in a loveless home left me aching and dreaming about the idea of having someone like me enough to one day love me. All i have ever wanted in life is to be loved for who i am, and i was about to meet the one man that i wanted to love me for the rest of my life.  So i went in and i met Him and i did everything i could possibly think of to be impressive. i ordered a martini and i crossed my legs and i kept my back straight and i tried to use big words but all i could think about was everything that i wanted Him to do to me back at His room. We spent that weekend together and it was pure magic. i don’t know when it clicked for N that He wanted me in His life but for me it was that first night. If He had asked me to leave with Him that Monday morning i would have, without a second glance back. i was His; before He even decided if He wanted me, before He showed any interest in me being around after that weekend, before i think He even knew if He liked me, i was His. As corny as this sounds, it’s true. With N i see everything that i can be, everything that i never even let myself dream that i could be. He made me feel confident and powerful and sexy and like someone people might want. i was hooked.

Alas, He didn’t ask me to come home with Him that Monday morning so back to my boring home i went. And life went on. And our conversations got longer, and deeper, and the word future started to look like something that would maybe have His name in it, and i was out of my mind in love. And then it happened. i think it’s splendid that when we wake up in the morning we have no idea whether or not that day will be the best day of our lives, i think that it’s one of the greater gifts in this world. The day that N asked me to be His started out just like any other, but then, just like that, it became the single most important day in all of my life. i was sitting on my kitchen counter talking to Him about the frivolous things that run through my mind and He looked at me and gave me the most romantic speech to ever grace the ears of a girl in love. And the whole world stopped and i remember trying to be cool and adult like and keep my shit together but i couldn’t. i was sitting there crying and smiling all at the same time and it was a feeling of contentment that i had never known before. It was official. And my life changed forever. i was Owned. Me; simple, erratic, broken me, was Owned. i had spent my whole life being forgotten and pushed aside and over looked and being a back up option to people whose hands i had once placed all of my worth in. They had led me to believe that i was a burden, a mistake, a waste of time. That there was nothing in me worthy of love. i had grown to never even let myself imagine being loved, let alone having someone actively want me. But N did. N wanted me, He loved me, He chose me. N loves me. And that’s the secret to all of this. To how i can be so depraved and disgusting and deviant, because no matter how revulsive the sex act or how dark and deep into the hole i decide to crawl, i will be loved. And not loved despite this side of me, but loved because of this side of me. In this world, where i get to be my true self, i am loved. And cherished, and desired, and these are things that i never knew i would get to experience. And that’s the most enchanting truth i have ever known.

And right there where we stood was holy ground.

i went to the Museum of Fine Arts the other week and standing there, staring at beautiful works of art was inspiring and breathtaking and it made my fingers itch to write and to create and to leave a part of myself there. And so i wrote:

Laughter is coming from around the corner. A grandmother and her two grandchildren are poking fun at something on the wall. Wood panels on the floor whine under the feet of strangers, and i know someone is coming. i’m sitting on a worn, leather couch, listening to children ramble in the other room while a tour guide asks them what they think about a piece of art. There’s a couple a few paintings down from me; he’s spinning her, and her hair is a black cloud of something new and hopeful.
my mind jumps to you for the first time today. 

They call us “The Concretion,” the painting that hangs in front of me. “A solidified mass formed by the accumulation of matter… A fitting title for this rendering of hard-edged geometric shapes colliding into a mass of abstract form.” Did you know they hung us up and called us high art? 

Still, i study the history on the walls, and i do not think of you: i wonder who broke these artists’ hearts.
What wrecked them.
What made them want to scream and cry and laugh, and make people nod in understanding.
What tore their insides up and made them want to build something that children would study and couples would fall in love around.
The Great Depression.
The rise of technological innovation.
Their jobs and womanhood and people having to go on strike for their rights.

And as the floor whines under the weight of strangers passing by, i pray that this is what my life might be: this speaking about the things left unsaid, this heart hanging on walls as passerbys nod and think, “Look at this one, this heart that ached for things bigger than herself.”
Frame the words i’ve written about the things that unsettle my heart.
Hang the poetry about injustice.
Put it on display.
And i hope they fall down onto a leather couch in tears and wonder what it must have been like when i painted my story because the silence was more terrifying than never getting the boy back or moving into the house in that foreign state with that foreign man.
Give these words sharp sculpted edges and put them on pedestals in hallways; i hope that when the paint dries, crowds break into outrage. Let this be the kind of high art my hands make.

Even so, a part of me shrinks back and watches couples dancing a few paintings down, thinking about “Concretion,” and all the ways i could make our different pieces collide together so abstractly that they’d hang our story on a wall one day. And couples could dance around it.

Why do you gotta be so mean?

Recently i have been on the receiving end of a lot of criticism and judgement and just mean mean words and i’ve watched this person just tear apart everything about me and it was really painful for a long time until i was able to step away from everything and look at things. And i have come to realize that this person is being so mean because he’s so broken and hurt on the inside and i think that that is how this pain thing works, hurt people hurt people. And it’s so sad, it’s so so so tragic, and i want this cycle to end with me. i don’t want to the hurt in my heart to be the reason that someone else’s heart starts hurting.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

Oh how i wish that childhood chant was true. i want so much to take those words and go over them with every power tool i can find until they scream truth. i don’t know about you, but i can’t remember one time that i had a stick or a stone thrown at me and have it destroy me the way a careless thought or opinion did. For the life of me i cannot recall ever being told i wasn’t good enough and then walk away thinking, “those are just words, they don’t mean anything.” Words can turn into weapons if shot off the wrong tongue. They can crawl inside the deepest part of your heart and make a meal out of the insecurities that are festering inside.

i want to know when it became okay for people to judge and to criticize and to point their fingers and tear others down without a second thought. When did it become acceptable to turn people into outcasts, into rejects, into freaks? When did we, as a society, deem ourselves good enough and honorable enough to judge and convict our neighbors? Why are we so mean? When are we going to realize that none of it benefits us at all? Not. One. Little. Bit. We are not making this world a better place by categorizing the strangers we see on the street. We are not spreading love when we choose to judge and to hurt instead of to love and accept. How can we possibly expect to fix or heal anything if we’re spending our spare time and words to destroy? i don’t understand why anybody would choose to wound when healing is a choice. Society needs to realize that you don’t actually have the right to stand beside someone and tell them they’re not worth it. You don’t get to determine what does or does not make a person brave, or lovely, or worthy, or good. That’s not your calling.

i grew up in an environment where words were used recklessly and thoughtlessly, day in and day out. i lived in a home that was filled with criticism and judgment instead of adoration and approval. i have spent my whole life letting callous syllables keep me from living life and from loving myself. And just because i walked away and left doesn’t mean that those voices stopped haunting me. i had to fight to change the thoughts that would slink into my mind unsolicited every time i would even consider myself to have a degree of worth behind my name. It’s a relentless battle that makes a soul weary and hopeless. And even now, i have days that are so dark they scare me, and it takes a lot of love from N and a lot of reflection for me to get over these dark times and remember that my life isn’t like that anymore. i am not that person.

And i used to feel so sorry for myself and i used to go around and let my insecurities darken my life and the life of those around me. i have learned that there’s another outlet for the pain and confusion and hurt. You can use those words of destruction as guidelines and you can start healing those around you that have been broken apart by the choruses of hate. There’s too much negativity in this world for anybody to feel a need to add more. i don’t know about you, but i like the idea of everyone loving each other. Of us choosing to build up one another instead of rip each other to shreds. Words might have the ability to be a weapon but they can just as easily become the balm on the wounds that we have caused. And they can heal. We can use our words to spread faith and affection; it takes the same amount of effort. And i just think this is the most beautiful idea.

So today i wanted to take the time to break the chain and remind you that you, my darling, you are flawless. And you are worthy. You. Are. So. Worthy. And i am unbelievably sorry if nobody thought to pull you aside and remind you of your beauty. i’m sorry if society got to you and smothered out the light that is meant to shine from every fiber of your being. If nobody ever thought to remind you of everything that has been crammed inside that delightful heart of yours. i am sorry that nobody thought to seek you out and let you know that you are special just as you are. Just as you are. That sentence alone puts more worth behind your name than any other sentence i could ever try and type out with these desperate little fingers of mine. You are made exactly how you need to be to fulfill your purpose here on Earth. You don’t need to be thinner or prettier or stronger or funnier. You don’t need to be wearing the latest styles or have so much money that the whole world knows your name. You just need to be you, and you need to love without conditions or hesitations. And once we, as a society can learn that simple truth, then this world will finally finally be the place that it was always meant to be.

Okay, i am coming off my soapbox now

xoxo

Harper

And in the end in Wonderland we both went mad

Halloween was wonderful but it really gave me a lot to think about. As most of you know, i decided to go as the DC Comic Villain, Harley Quinn. In researching Harley and what she looks like i found myself becoming more and more intrigued with her and so i started studying her personality and her storyline more. And i am now more sure than ever that i want to model myself after her, i feel like i have found myself through studying her, which is kind of weird considering she’s a fictional character, but just hear me out.  i have come to a new realization these days and it’s started shaping how i am choosing to present myself to the world and how i am choosing to react to circumstances in my life. i am a lot like Harley Quinn, and i think that makes me really happy. Traits that we share are things that society has had me hiding and ashamed of but i now want them to shine. Harley is seen by some as crazy, evil, stupid, self destructive, even single minded and i would be lying if i said i haven’t been called all of these things at some point in my life. But i think she’s more complex than that; Harley is a character full of conflicting personalities and she deals with this ongoing identity crisis through obsession. Somehow she’s seen as a villain but i think, at her core, she’s a genuine and good person. Psycho for sure, but i think she is full of good intention and her heart is pure. She’s passionate, empowered, determined, and intriguing. She is a woman obsessed with life and freedom but doesn’t know how to achieve her idea of a fulfilled life. She forms these obsessions and clings to these objects or things to help her create a sense of self in her mind and uses that to define herself. Instead of allowing societal constraints and accepted norms dictate her action, Harley feels she is only free when she is allowed to do absolutely anything she wants.  And i think this is the root of what pushes her forward. And i think this is the root of what pushes me forward. Like Harley, i grew up in a chaotic household with a horrible man as a father, and like Harley, i struggle to find a life that makes sense of what i went through. And these character traits resonate on an extremely deep level with me.

Finding BDSM and N, i found something that i have since let define me and take me over. My obsession with Him is deeper and stronger than i could even begin to explain. It has been the reason behind every decision i have made in the past year, from quitting my stable job and moving out of a house i shared with my best friends, to leaving the only town and life i ever knew and now looking at plastic surgeons and partaking in gangbangs. i have shaped who i am and what my life looks like around N’s desires and preferences. He has become the focal point of my whole life. Just like Harley with the Joker, anything He says or suggests i willingly take to heart and try to make a reality (i am just really thankful that He doesn’t have a fetish for dead people). i have let my need for freedom and identity push me fast and solidly into the kink community in which i have found an escape i didn’t even know was possible. And while some may see that as reckless and single minded, i think it’s fearless and passionate. Everything Harley does, she does in extremes, without stopping to wonder if others will judge or hate her for what she’s done, and that is something that i aim to do wholeheartedly.

i am beyond fascinated with this idea of being so in love with someone that it makes you literally insane. i love the idea of doing everything in life in extremes. i find something so enthralling and romantic about giving up everything you are or you’ve known because the love that you have for someone is too strong to not to. That kind of love, that’s the kind of love that gives a life meaning i think. And maybe this goes into the whole brainwash/hypnosis fetish that i have, but i just feel like i am into it on another level. i mean i don’t want to need drugs or spirals or sparkly things to make me give it all up, i want my mad love to be enough. Harley Quinn gave up her psychology license, started killing people and committing crimes, and arguably gave up her sanity because she was so madly in love and obsessed with the Joker. And while most people see that and may think she needs help, i see it and think that there is nothing so beautiful in this world. That’s the kind of obsessed love i feel for N, the fierce loyalty that i have for His heart, and it’s something that i used to be embarrassed and ashamed of. But i don’t want to be, i want to revel in it and let it grow and get stronger. i want to be like Harley Quinn, i want to be so focused and obsessed with the object of my love and desire that He gets all the control without me even thinking about it. i have wanted this for a long time, but for some reason reading Harley Quinn’s story has given me the validation i needed to let go and accept that i have become obsessed with a darker kind of love, a powerful kind of love, and a love that has flooded my life with meaning. And that this obsession may seem unhealthy or make me seem unstable to the outside world but that i no longer care. i don’t care if people think i’m the weird one or the crazy one, or if i am left on the outside looking in. i don’t care if N ends up breaking my heart or changing His mind, i want to be defined by this obsession regardless. i want to be known as someone who, despite her upbringing and conditioning, allows herself to love someone so unconditionally and without barriers or walls that it changes lives. i want to be vulnerable and have my whole being in someone else’s hands, it gives me a rush that i find more addictive than any powered drug or liquid magic. And i am so so hooked.

xoxo,

Harper