Alone, I am no one and nothing. Anxious and vulnerable and desperate for love. Insecure and needy and truly, truly foolish. Left to my own devices I would probably never make difficult decisions. Let’s face it, I might not be capable of getting out of bed. But I can do even the hardest things because I have great people beside me. My people give me superpowers: you give me superpowers.

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What I’m looking for in a vibrator depends very much on my current state of mind. Sometimes I’m after a vigorously efficient orgasm that rockets into my life and makes me feel like I’ve been run over by a sexy freight train – during those times I’d reach for my Doxy. If what I’m looking for instead is a precision wank, where all the pleasure is directed to exactly the right spot on my clit, concentrated and magnified like a shaft of sunlight that eventually bursts into flame: Zumio. If I need something guaranteed to make me come nice and hard around a dick I’m fucking, the vibe I’ll slip into my lover’s hand then press tightly against my clit is the Hot Octopuss Amo. Unfortunately for the great people at We-Vibe, when they sent me the brand new Nova 2, what I was looking for in a vibrator was something that could help me forget that I just broke up with the man I love, in the middle of a pandemic, financially fucking myself over and effectively ripping out my own heart. It had – to put it mildly – one hell of a job to do.

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In the last few weeks before I broke up with the love of my life, he expressed a vague desire to make a trifle. And oh God I was so excited. He told me that he wanted to make a trifle.

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This week’s guest blogger – the fabulous Violet Grey (@v_greyauthor) has already written two incredible posts here: on how much sex millennials are having and what it means to be a submissive feminist. I love her political posts, but I also adore her sexy writing, and you’ll understand why when you read this gorgeous femdom story about a guy being humiliated and used. Take it away Violet…

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One of my favourite pictures of myself is a fuzzy, terrible snapshot of half of my face: one black eye proudly displayed and my lips curled upwards in a filthy grin. It’s an old photo, taken on a phone that had something which could barely be described as a camera, but the picture reminds me of a very happy time.

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