Customize Consent Preferences

We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.

The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ... 

Always Active

Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.

No cookies to display.

Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.

No cookies to display.

Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

No cookies to display.

Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.

No cookies to display.

Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.

No cookies to display.

Degrees of Zero

…And nothing hurt: Masochist Musings

Zero

Cozy/sexy/cute

I like lingerie – I like wearing things that make me feel sexy and slutty, and I also like wearing sports bras and boxers and feeling tough, cool, lightly masculine. My favourite kinds of loungewear, however, are roomy pyjama bottoms, brushed flannel, too-big t-shirts belonging to my partner that I hide before he leaves.

Chained

The first time I ever touched them I was wearing more clothes than I’d ever worn to do aerial before, and when I eventually performed on the chains it was with as much bare skin as possible. I was obsessed with the dichotomy of flesh and metal, of dancing with something so fraught with harm.

Listen

I’m chained and kneeling in the corner of the room when the doorbell goes. He put me there – naked but for the collar around my neck, chain lead attached to the wardrobe to keep me in place. I’m on my knees, legs a little splayed, bright red cane marks striping my thighs from earlier when I voiced my disagreement about this proposed treatment.