the intro...

Hello and welcome to my blog! I’m your hostess, Ladyface.

I'm a 27 year old queer femme sex worker. Between my fancypants day job and my super sexy side gig I spend a lot of time being an attentive, diplomatic Ladyface so this blog is where I’ll let my hair down...I might even curse. Though I curse like a kitten sneezes, which is too say it's infrequent and harmless and still shocks me more than anyone.

I am a sex positive lady and will write candidly about my kinks, my history, my exploits and my daily life (but only the good stuff). And so that I can write as openly as possibe, I'm keeping this space anonymous. All characters are real people in my life but all names are pseudonyms and always will be.




P.S. you can now follow me on Twitter! @1ladyface

Sunday, January 8, 2012


Update: the new years resolution is going strong!  Four days of no sugar and no orgasms.  But it’s no fun to talk about the delicious sex and chocolate cake I'm not having, so todays post will be about something else entirely.

Here are a few excerpts from a journal entry I wrote the night of my very first foot fetish party 5 years ago when I was a baby ladyface.  Enjoy! 

Alejandro is a nondescript middle-aged Asian man.  He’s also evidence that it isn’t just the women who use pseudonyms when they play.  The session with “Alejandro” started out pretty simple with the two of us sitting on the couch with my feet in his face as he licked/sucked and kissed all over them.
Sometimes he’d close his eyes and leave his mouth squished up and his tongue slightly out and have me move my toes flirtatiously over that little oral anemone.  It looked ridiculous and tickled like crazy but I got the impression that “Alejandro” is the kinda guy who wouldn’t appreciate humor in a session. 
I moaned instead.

Arthur is a 60 year old, clean-cut East Coast academic. He was the first of the guys to really worship.  He touched, kissed and licked my feet as if they were fragile. By the end of our two consecutive sessions I was running my hand through his hair while he sucked on my toes and stared longingly at me.  Whenever my toes weren’t in his mouth he was murmuring compliments.  I laid back and enjoyed his vocabulary.  Apparently I am a “resplendent seraphim” with “tantalizing” toes and “luminous” eyes.  I should have been paying him for the GRE prep. 

My last session of the evening was with a 26 year old grad student from Prague named Dillon.  He was well-dressed and kinda cute for a boy.  Since he was more into tickling than oral play we got to talk throughout the session. And…I broke one of my boundaries with Dillon.  (already!  Oh geez.) 
He asked if I ever do footplay with boyfriends.  I said no and he was shocked.  He kept inquiring and after a moment of consideration I told him simply “I don’t date boys.” He got all excited, stuttered, recovered and said in his cute Prague-y accent: “Oh!  So you understand!  I like feet and you like girls.”  Luckily he was tickling me or I might have had to explain my laughter at his equating my queerness with his distinctive fetish.  The correct analogy would have been "I like feet like you like fisting" but I didn't go there.  I don’t regret outing myself to Dillon but I expect that it will become harder to negotiate to what extent my work persona resembles actual me and where her truth ends.

In conclusion, the only nervousness I experienced in the course of the evening was my concern that the teeth of a toe-nibbling client might chip my toenail polish, but as far as occupational hazards go that one is rather benign.  And I came home feeling sexy, powerful, at home in my body and untouchable.  (I recognize the irony of that last bit)  I’m glad I made the decision to do this for myself.  Go me.  

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