Axe Murderers, Bugs, and Bears... Oh My!

Our latest fetish adventure was had about a month ago. Shakeshift rented us a cabin in the middle of the woods to shoot our latest customs. This trip in particular was very special because it was the first shoot where I was the most experienced fetish model. It's such a strange feeling for me to almost be a mentor to another model. After 3 years of being the newest model I got used to being the most inexperienced model. It's really a different kind of pressure put on you when your new vs.being a veteran. 

On our drive to the middle of no where axe murderer infested woods Shakeshift and I stopped at a cute store called the fruit bowl. This store was full of candy! Crazy candies like I've never seen before and old candy that has not been seen in years.

They even had the Spice Girl lollipops from the 90s. 

In addition to the nostalgia lollies I also bought a giant lollipop, which gave Shakeshift and I the idea to break another fetish cherry of mine that I've been dying to try! Tantrum fetish! Shakeshift had a great idea to film me licking the lollipop then have the other model take it and spank me with it. 

I don't know why but I always had a feeling that  tantrum fetish would be something I'd be good at doing. Maybe because when I was a kid I never really had tantrums so now I'm making up for lost time? Or maybe because my big eyes can convey child like emotion? I don't know. 

Among the pile of lollies I also found this weird tube of flavored marshmallow stuff. It looked like a strange science experiment gone wrong and tasted even worst. I looooove marshmallows. And am a master at Chubby Bunny.

For those of you who are like Shakeshift and do not know what Chubby Bunny is, it is a game where you take turns adding one marshmallow into your mouth and say the words "Chubby Bunny" after each marshmallow. Who ever is the last one to spit out the marshmallows or choke wins the game. It's the best game of near death choking you'll ever have. 

When I get my own store I totally wanna make a Chubby Bunny video to see how many marshmallows I can fit into my mouth. Who knows maybe well have a little contest to see who can guess the correct number of marshmallows I can fit in my mouth and the winner gets a nice prize. 

After the Fruit bowl we hit the road. It took another long 5 hours and a few wrong turns for us to reach the cabin where the new model Jennifer Blaze eagerly awaited our arrival. 

To send me a super amazing gift to help me build up my new store or to thank me for my hard work visit my amazon wish list. Every gift is deeply appreciated and each generous giver will receive photos of myself and their gift! 

If you have yet to vote or nominate YOUR favorite model for the Bondage Awards please vote/ nominate HERE!

Don't forget to check out these Clip4Sale stores to see my work described in this blog:

League of Amazing Women and
Shakeshift's Superheroine Adventures by Dawnstar Productions

When White Chicks Try to Be Asian

On our final morning in Tampa I specifically remember showering. Inside the shower was a window that was at the perfect height for me to lean my arms on it and enjoy the cool Tampa breeze in contrast to the warm water coming from the shower head.

Shakeshift and I spent the rest of the day driving through military bases and getting lost in the most dead end places scattered throughout the east coast. Finally by 8 pm we arrived in North Carolina just in time to meet Vivian and a bunch of her friends at a very fancy restaurant for Vivian's birthday. 

 

After our lovely time we all returned to Vivian's home and crashed on the couch.

The next morning the lovely Vivian made an amazing home made breakfast for Shakeshift and I. Something I haven't had since grade school. Then we quickly got started on our final shoot of our trip.

In this shoot I played an Asian woman who secretly has been kidnapping women for human trafficing. Vivian played the US Marshial who busted my operation. This video had plenty of bondage kink and is one of the few were I play a villain. Throughout the video Shakeshift kept making fun of my "ingrish" accent. Which consisted of a mash of German, Spanish, Russian, and Asian accents. It was pretty awful, but for some reason many of the fans love it.

Shooting was so fun but we were on a time crunch so once our 4 hours were up Shakeshift and I had to hit the road and head back north.

With a few hours left in our trip Shakeshift took me to a surprise restaurant to celebrate St. Patrick's day. I was so appreciative because this was the first St. Partick's day I am able to drink! In Richmond there is a jazzy little French restaurant called Cancan. They have amazing burgers and it's were I had my first milk beer.

As we arrived closer and closer back home I could feel the magic start to fade and everything turn back into pumpkins. It's as if you return to normal and it's almost like nothing ever happened. I had an amazing time and would jump at the chance to work another trip for Mike, Vesta, Jessica, Vivian, and of course Shakeshift. I thank everyone who gives me the chance to model and make others happy with my mix of odd and random talents.

To send me a super amazing gift to help me build up my new store or to thank me for my hard work visit my amazon wish list. Every gift is deeply appreciated and each generous giver will receive photos of myself and their gift! 

Please vote for me for Best Bondage Model for the Bondage Awards please vote HERE!

Don't forget to check out these Clip4Sale stores to see my work described in this blog:

League of Amazing Women ,
Shakeshift's Superheroine Adventures by Dawnstar Productions, 

or  Vivian Ireene Pierce's store click HERE to see some sexy adventures. 

From Behind The Camera 2: A Shakeshift Personal Story

I remember once in 2007 I had become so drunk at Fetishcon that I was incapable of walking in a straight line and had to crawl down a hallway in order to reach my hotel room.

On the evening of the Fetishcon Sunday night gala ball, it’s the final night of the convention and there’s this HUGE party in the main convention area where everyone gathers (still dressed in fetish finery, but usually more subdued than the previous three nights.)  The music is great, the performance artists are all trying to outdo one another, and there’s more emphasis on the photo-taking because everyone is leaving Monday morning and so there’s a certain amount of languid (and bittersweet) permeating the floor as many people won’t see their friends again until next year.

A friend of mine had just introduced me to the mojito mai grande the night before.  It’s different than a regular mojito in that they use two types of rum, use three different types of mint, and the cane sugar syrup is fermented for at least three months and infused with herbs.  The mojito mai grande is as far above the mojito in the evolutionary charts as themodern human being is above a caveman.  They both walk upright.  They both can scratch themselves when they itch, but that’s about where the similarities end.  The mojito mai grande is the superior version they serve in Florida, and once you’ve had it you can’t really go back to a regular mojito afterwards.  You don’t care that they’ll knock you on your ass.  You don’t care that they cost about twice as much as a regular mojito.  You just keep drinking them and drinking them until either the bartender cuts you off or your bar tab can’t possibly be paid up in full by any one human being.

So, I had about TWENTY of these while I was in Florida, most of which were consumed by

me starting at about 12 noon on Sunday and going all the way until 2am bar close.  To say that I was shit-faced is doing a great disservice to everyone who has been shit-faced at a convention party.  I was so far gone that at one point I mistook a man for a woman and asked she was wearing such an ugly tie with such a pretty blouse.

Anyway, I was drinking poolside on Sunday night.  I had about 8-10 drinks in me by that point so I was completely bombed.  At one point a friend of mine had offered me “Caribbean tire rum” from a dirty old bottle.  For those of you who don’t know, there are plenty of bootleggers from the West Indies who make their own rum by stealing sugarcane at night from all the sugarcane fields, and fermenting it with molasses, ascorbic acid, and by mixing it with activators such as yeast or pul marde’.  They usually make this bootleg rum incredibly sweet and fruity, to cover up the fact that it tastes like complete ass and to hide the fact that it’s made by boiling the sugarcane and other ingredients over a fire, usually by using the hollowed-insides of a truck tire.  Yes, I said a fucking truck tire.  Truck tires used as a makeshift caudron can retain a lot of fluid, they can be heated to high temperatures without melting, and it’s fairly inconspicuous if la polizia come by… considering that there are rotten old truck tires everywhere in Jamaica discarded on the sides of the road.

Anyway, so my friend offered me a drink of this nasty concoction that looked like ladled toilet water from a prison camp in Costa Rica.  I was so drunk at this point I no longer cared, and I took a swig without even thinking.  It tasted like death and battery acid infused with the nuance of several lemon slices and about ten pounds of sugar.  It was purely foul, followed by an aftertaste so sweet that it would kill a diabetic.  That being said, I had about four or five more swigs, just to cement my stupidity and to make sure it was a matter of public record that I no longer cared about the burden of human consciousness this drunken, wobbly Sunday night.

I’m walking back towards my hotel room an hour later, trying to stay upright at 3 a.m. (my roommate for the year, Ester Amoral, was off doing other things) and I find myself dropping onto the floor after exiting the elevator, unsure of how my once-trusty legs had failed me after abusing my liver with the power of alcohol for the last fifteen hours nonstop.  Determined to reach my room at the far end of the hallway, I try to stand up but my gyro-stabilizer in my brain has left me a nasty letter saying that it wasn’t coming back to work until I was sober.  Okay, crawling it is.  I start to crawl at a hefty pace down the hallway, singing a dirty sailor song bawdily as I’m crawling on my hands and knees.

And then one of my eyes goes dark.

I stop, unsure of myself.  I blink several times, trying to clear the issue.  Nope.  My right eye

has gone completely dark, even with the eyelid wide open.  There are no blurs, no fuzziness, nothing at all except inky (and total) darkness.  A guy walks by me (dressed like a sexy pirate) and I mumble out loud “I’ve gone blind in one eye.” And he looks at me and peers down and says, “Oh yeah, your right eye is all milky white, I can barely even see the pupil.”  So I do what every rational person does in a situation like this, I curse for about thirty or forty straight minutes while flopping around on the floor like a cuttlefish on the deck of a fishing boat.  I flop this way across the carpet, and then the other way.  I throw in a string of venomous curses for no apparent reason.  I bump into a wall, and then another, and finally after a while a nice couple (dressed like sexy nuns) helps me to my feet and brings me down to my room.  They even make sure I’m safely inside before leaving.

Somehow, in defiance of all logic, I manage to pee into the toilet, and I even smell the acrid scent of fresh urea as I’m doing so and a few seconds later I am regurgitating $200 worth of alcohol into the toilet as well.  I am living proof that some people just can’t be trusted to hold their liquor.  Somewhere after vomiting but before divine inspiration I lose all consciousness and pass out on the floor at the foot of my bed.

In the morning, I wake up, and it’s about 12:30 in the afternoon.  I can now see out of both eyes (albeit one of them rather dimly) and I thank god that the blindness wasn’t temporary.  I feel like a new man.  Nine hours of sleep and the purging of my stomach seems to have saved me.  That, and the two giant bottles of mineral water I drank sometime during the night (their empty plastic carcasses are right next to me.)

I thank myself for surviving the night.  I thank myself for being one step ahead of the game. I thank myself for all of my good fortune.

I look over at the clock.  It says 12:49pm in bright red numerals.

I look over at my airline ticket.  My ticket says my flight back to Richmond leaves on Monday at 12:45pm.  Non-refundable.

Fuck.

To send me a super amazing gift to help me build up my new store or to thank me for my hard work visit my amazon wish list. Every gift is deeply appreciated and each generous giver will receive photos of myself and their gift! 

If you have yet to vote for  YOUR favorite model for the Bondage Awards please vote for me HERE! Every vote is deeply appreciated. Lets see if we can get me into the finals!

Don't forget to check out these Clip4Sale stores to see my work described in this blog:

League of Amazing Women and
Shakeshift's Superheroine Adventures by Dawnstar Productions

SWAT

For our last day of our time in Florida we shot with Miss Whitney Morgan and Mia Vallis. I had not been told much about these girls other than Mia is an LA model and Whitney has done every fetish under the sun.

To start off the morning Shakeshift went out again and bought me another breakfast of champions: OATMEAL! With two flavors. When he bought the oatmeal at the drive through he ordered it plan, then they ask you what flavor you want to add to it. He told me he ordered both and they were like "...what". I guess that's an uncommon thing to do in Florida.

But right after breakfast things started to get worrisome. Mia had called Mike the day before to inform him that she was still in LA, but was getting an overnight flight to

make it here on time. Mike and Shakeshift (mostly Shakeshift) were so nervous.

Mia and her man finally arrived two hours late, but that was fine. Whitney, Mike, Vesta, Shakeshift, and I all got to hang outside by the beautiful pool until she arrived.

The first shoot we did I played Miss Whitney's assistant who is skeptical of her bosses work. Whitney, a secret fembot, planned to destroy Wonder Mia.

For most of this shoot I was sitting on the couch while they were in the bedroom filming. Just waiting for my turn. After what felt like forever of waiting Mike told me to come outside and join Vesta, Mias man, and him. When I did not ten minutes later did we have our nightmare come true....

At the beginning of this trip Shakeshift told me stories of the last time they rented a house to shoot in. Mike,
Shakeshift, Caroline Pierce, and VIP were all sitting down to dinner after a long day of shooting. When suddenly Mike hears an odd faint clicking noise near the front door. Mike gets up and opens the front door and to his surprise a SWAT team tumbles into the house. The SWAT team begins to search the house for any child sized objects, towels, candy, anything that would indicate a child being present. The SWAT team pulls everyone outside of the house, models in full Wonder Woman attire. As soon as VIP and Caroline come out of the house all the male SWAT members flock towards them getting photos with the models while Mike and Shakeshift are handcuffed and manhandled overtop a SWAT car. Apparently an elderly neighbor, who had nothing better to do with his time, had been curious the whole weekend about what was going on inside the house. He would be sneaking around the property and once he realized the girls were dressed up the elderly man chose to call the SWAT team claiming there was child pornography being filmed.

... While we were on the patio Mike looked over and saw the homeowner peering in through the front doors glass window. Right in front of the door was a table full of ropes, ball gags, and a fake gun. Vesta quickly got up and swiftly removed everything off the table while Shakeshift answered the door.

What will become of our models and photographers? Will we get kicked out of the house? Tune in next
week to find out!

To send me a super amazing gift to help me build up my new store or to thank me for my hard work visit my amazon wish list. Every gift is deeply appreciated and each generous giver will receive photos of myself and their gift! 

If you have yet to vote or nominate YOUR favorite model for the Bondage Awards please vote/ nominate HERE!

Don't forget to check out these Clip4Sale stores to see my work:

League of Amazing Women and
Shakeshift's Superheroine Adventures by Dawnstar Productions

From Behind the Camera: Shakeshift's Personal Story

I can remember once in 2009, we were coming back from a photoshoot in Clearwater (near the beach) and we were trying to cross over back into Tampa.  At one point there was a bridge that was all the way up in order to allow a few ships to cross the channel.  There was a long line of cars waiting at the base of the bridge and it was murderously hot that sunny afternoon because you could see the shimmering waves of heat coming off the blacktop highway.  At the time it was myself, two of the models, and my friend Joe.  Joe is a nice guy and had agreed to be our driver for the day (mostly to meet the two models, that's kind of how Joe was back in those days) and since Joe had a big air-conditioned truck that could carry all of our photography equipment with ease I was glad to have him around on days like today.

We were waiting for about fifteen minutes and the bridge had not yet went down.  I was trying to figure out what the holdup was when Joe craned his neck, turned to me and said, "There's a sailboat that's stalled under the bridge, it can't go back down until the sailboat either moves forward or back." and I remember thinking that a sailboat with a stalled motor was the silliest thing I had ever heard of.  It's a SAILBOAT.  You don't need motors when you're a sailboat.  Of course he hadn't been using the sails today, he was just taking it out for a short ride in the channel for whatever reason using the tiny motor in back for navigation and the engine stalled right as he was under the bridge.

So we're waiting, and after a while Joe cuts the engine because we're using gas like crazy.  It starts to get hot in the truck and the bridge STILL hasn't come down.  The models are starting to sweat in the back and Joe turns to me with a look of horror on his face.

"I have to take a shit."

I tell Joe that we'll stop at a gas station after the bridge crossing and it'll all be good.

"No man, I have to take a shit and I have to take it NOW."

He starts the engine and we try to do a U-turn, but we're right at the on-ramp for the bridge so we can't go forwards or back because of cars, and we can't go off the road because one side is a median divider and the other side is a ten foot dirt drop-off into a marsh-bank.  We're completely stuck.

Joe starts to squirm.  The models of course are horrified by everything that we've been through.  Also, their makeup is starting to run down their faces from all the sweating we've done for the past fifteen minutes and so even though the A/C is back on the girls now look like drunken raccoons crying in the back of Joe's truck.

"Joe!  There's NOWHERE we can go!  Hold it in!" I yell at him.

"I have to take a shit, dude!  I can't wait any more!" Joe complains.

We can't go forward in the truck, and we can't go back.  Joe is now squirming in his seat like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, except that tantrum is with the three pounds of feces in his bowels now howling to get out of his body.  Joe's macabre dance in the driver's seat of his truck resembles something Zulu warriors did right before they charged off into battle.  Lots of wriggling and grunting, eyes closed tight in anticipation of the battle to come.

The models start to cry.

Suddenly, without any warning, the fecund smell of freshly-made crap fills the whole truck.  It hits me like an invisible fist in the face, involuntarily slamming my head to the side as the raw stench of crap (with the undeniable floral hint of Taco Bell wafting underneath the smell of feces) drops me like a seasoned pro.  My eyes water, my head swims, the whole world seems to take on a weird surreal quality as the awful stench gets endlessly recycled through the air-filtration system back into our faces again and again like a badly-skipping record.

Joe has just officially shit his pants.

Joe dives out of the truck and runs down the earthen bank towards the reeds and the marsh, muttering some sort of apology as he dashes away, the whole backside of his khakis with this nightmarish yellow wet stain on it like a huge failure-circle across his entire ass.  There's no sign of anything in the truck left behind from this feco-disaster.  No wet stains on the seat, no residue on the back of the door.  As far as we can tell it's all narrowly lodged in Joe's tighty-whities as he power-walks down the earthen bank with grim determination, drops his pants and then just lets it all shoot out of his ass into the dismal marsh in a failure-spray so epic that it would even make the Three Stooges proud.  Everybody on the on-ramp can see this guy let loose.  Joe thought he was out of sight of the other cars, but he was MAYBE fifteen feet away from us at most so everybody got a good up-close look at a big guy taking a massive pressure-sprayer projectile crap on the side of a major highway.

Just when I think that I can't laugh any more, I suddenly feel a huge bump throughout the truck.  It shakes me, it shakes the models in the back.  Joe is fifteen feet away spraying the Florida Everglades in a tawny-brown shower of Taco Bell residue, so I'm trying to figure out what just happened.  I look forward, and we have just accidentally rammed the teeny little 

Ford Focus five feet in front of us.

Joe had fled the truck without putting the transmission back into "park."  He had basically left it in "drive" and had been riding the brake the whole time when he dashed out to go take a shit.  Now we had idled forward and bumped the car in front of us.  Out of instinct, the Ford Focus pulled forward as much as it could, and of course Joe's truck idled forward obligingly and rammed it a second time, this time hard enough to crack the plastic bumper of the Focus with a sickening crunch.

"NO!" cries Joe, his fudge-filled khakis dangling around his ankles, looking up at the low-speed accident.  "My truck!"  He starts to hobble up the earthen bank without bothering to pull up his pants, and the sight of his shit-stained backside waddling closer and closer to the highway makes everybody honk their horns in panic.  I'll never forget it to this day.  A cacophony of terrified motorists honking their horns in panic at the crazy guy with the shit-stained backside hobbling up the embankment... completely bottomless.  They're not honking their horns to warn him of danger.  They're honking their horns to keep him away from their cars, the children, their grandsons and granddaughters.

And, at that point, one of the models in the backseat throws up in the truck.  Her internal limit has just been reached.

I wish I could tell you a happy ending to this story, but there is none.  Neither model would ever work with me again, and they both tried hitting me up for extra money for having to endure this horrible afternoon.  Joe ended up having to call his insurance agent and his $1000 deductible on the car accident made it an unforgettable afternoon in his eyes.  Joe eventually sold that big truck and by 2011 I had never heard from him again, partially because I think he blamed me for everything that had happened that night.  As his wife put it, if he hadn't gone to help a friend, none of that would have happened.

Every time I drive through the city of Clearwater though and I hit the channel bridge to go to Seminole I always think back to that day (no matter who I'm with) and it always makes me smile.  The best stories are always like that.  The great stories always make you smile, even when it's the worst possible circumstances, and even if the story is based on awful things happening to really nice people.

To send me a super amazing gift to help me build up my new store or to thank me for my hard work visit my amazon wish list. Every gift is deeply appreciated and each generous giver will receive photos of myself and their gift! 

Don't forget to check out these Clip4Sale stores to see my work:
Shakeshift's Superheroine Adventures by Dawnstar Productions

The Debut of Fatgirl

The morning of our third shoot we woke up at about 8 a.m. I got to sleep in Jessica Nova’s designated “nerd room”, a room full of collectables from Superman paraphernalia to Monster High dolls. I’m so envious of all the amazing collectables they have. That single room is how I wish to decorate my whole house. As I exited the room to take a shower their kitty cat Sebastian followed me out without my knowledge. Shakeshift, who was awake on the couch, watched as I accidentally slammed the bathroom door in the kitty’s face.

Once Jessica Nova, Bambi Buttons, Shakeshift, and I were ready Shakeshift took us models out to Chick-fil-A for a delicious breakfast of coffee and oatmeal. One our bellies were full we headed out to the Lady Julie’s home. We had plans to go to a club that had a human wheel so we could shoot a video where Batgirl gets caught by Venom Valentine and is tortured by being spun upside down on the Wheel of Misfortune. That would have been an amazing video, but I was very glad that I got to see Lady Julie, her husband, and her dozen kitties!

Once we arrived we immediately got to work. Our first shoot consisted of me as Batgirl, Lady Julie as Omega Woman, and Jessica Nova as Venom Valentine. This was the first time I got to witness the famous super-villain Shakeshift and the producers of L.A.W. have always discussed and admired. Venom’s character is a female Joker type who is nuts and wants to see the world burn for her amusement. Jessica Nova is such a great actress. She is so natural and witty with her characters, there has never been a character of hers I didn’t fall in love with.

During this shoot Venom successfully tricks Batgirl into throwing a tantrum by calling her Fatgirl. The scene was so hilarious we had to do six takes. Shakeshift found it so funny that for the rest of the trip he called me Fatgirl; this lead to confusion, concern, and a little bit of anger from other models toward Shakeshift when he jokingly called me Fatgirl in front of the models and producers.

To send me a super amazing gift to help me build up my new store or to thank me for my hard work visit my amazon wish list. Every gift is deeply appreciated and each generous giver will receive photos of myself and their gift! 

Don't forget to check out these Clip4Sale stores to see me and the lovely models I've worked with in this blog:
Jessica Nova's Harlequin's Heroes
Shakeshift's Superheroine Adventures by Dawnstar Productions