A Bitch Named Blog

I’m lost in the game of blogging. I have ideas pouring out of me, 24/7. My problem is my inability to feel satisfied with anything I write. The perfectionist in me views blogging as that bitch I hate, lol. In large part, because I loathe reading what I create. When I sit my ass down and commit to writing a blog, everything feels like it flows from me with zero effort. It’s like I’m in “the zone.” But something happens when I start doing the clean-up on a blog; it starts looking like a hot steaming pile of trash, and everything that made sense no longer makes sense. I mean… look, I know I’m not competing for the Pulitzer, but excuse me for wanting my blog to be hot.

The bottom line is I hate everything I’ve ever written, and I’m going to hate everything I write. My goal is to read the trash that I write and not arrest myself for being corny as fuck. It’s most definitely a challenge, but one I’m determined to take on. Hell, I want to make my words feel real to you and me. I must admit I have serious doubts about the power of a filthy blog, even one written by a boastful, sexy motherfucker like me, but y’all swear you give a fuck about a blog, so here you go.

                        Blogging is a Substitute for a Substitute

I know I have big “if you say so” energy for blogging, but I’m not convinced most people give a fuck about a blog entry. In all seriousness, phone-fucking, phone-cuckolding, and all the freaky stuff we talk about online is a substitute for in-person femdom sessions and dick appointments. So if we’re using the same logic, blogging about these subjects is a substitute for talking about it, which is a substitute for doing it. The challenge for me is making a substitute for a substitute sound and feel… real. And writing about myself, about the work I do and how it impacts you, the customer fucks with me in the worst way. In large part, because I’m a perfectionist who finds it hard to flex my natural creativity without nit-picking and stripping it down to some boring unseasoned… blah. I mean… if we’re keepin’ it a buck, can a phone-fuck blog be “art?” Like… can my slick-talking be a way for me to competently express my love for what I do? I don’t know, but I’m determined to, at the very least, try to create something that feels real to me.

                               In Search of the Bad Bitch Within

My love for femdom is deep! I mean, this work has tapped into something in me that was unknown to me, the best part of me was lying dormant waiting for a bitch to breathe life into me; and I was THAT bitch! My inner bad bitch was breathing life into me, telling me the truth, which I’d spent too long ignoring. The (God)dess within me refused to be silenced, pushing me to step into my sublime pussy power. She implored me to own, embrace, and cherish the loud, arrogant bitch that I am. (God)dess made it clear that Camilla will never apologize or shrink when challenged. Whatever I feel or think is the only thing that matters to me, and that’s the way it should be. My pussy is my business, and my business is valuable. And lastly, fuck what you heard! Talking to me is a privilege and should be treated as such.

We all have an inner bad bitch, but we don’t all listen to her. 

In my not-so-humble opinion, no one is more confident than a short-dicked man criticizing women. Men need to spend all that time they reserve for mansplaining womanhood on holding a convention on how to properly wipe their ass, but I digress…

Many dope women have fallen prey to basic bitch logic. We’re currently experiencing an uptick in women embracing basic bitchdom as their ministry, and I find this quite troubling. I want women to know that there is no reward for being a clown on behalf of mouth-breathers who think their tiny dick is a gift to your pussy. Now, if they have a big dick, they might be a good fuck, but other than that, you receive nothing for cosigning basic-bitch logic in support of corny-ass dudes.

                                                        Goddess Life

In closing, I guess I’m trying to tell y’all that this (God)dess life is all me. I write what I feel, and I give you as much of myself as I can; uncut, unrefined, and sucka free.