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Mistress Arabella: A Raspberry for Your Ass

vibratordotcom:

I am not sure what led to the Ass-Berries design line by Rocks Off, but I imagine the conversation went something like this:

Boss: We should make a cute butt plug that is good for first time users, and it should also vibrate.

Underling: We should shape it like an oversized raspberry, and then call it the Ass-Berry!

And so the Ass-Berry Raspberry Vibrator came into being, and it does a great job doing exactly what it was designed to do. Thanks to Vibrator.com for sending it to me! It makes a great beginning anal toy.

I’ve Moved!

Please follow me to my new, updated site at http://bombshells-and-rockstars.com

I’m expanding my site to be your guide in sex, dating, culture, kink, playing hard & staying safe. Instead of just talking about sex toys, I’m delving into my passion where sexuality education is concerned. At Mistress Arabella’s Bombshells & Rockstars, we do all the dirty work, so you can have all the fun!

We have new contributors, new sexperts, and new reviewers on board, so add us to your feed or subscribe for email updates and come on over!

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Blissfully,
Mistress Arabella 

There is no Impurity and There is no Purity.

I write because there is so much that yearns to spill forth from me. Earlier I was in the sauciest mood, and my mind was a waterfall of things like edible body paint, rope, sex toys and whatnot. My oral fixation was completely out of control and I couldn’t stop yearning for something delicious to occupy my mouth and tongue.


I took a few seconds to stop and laugh at myself; I’m just about to ovulate and my sex-drive always goes ridiculously through the roof at this point in my cycle. It was nice to feel that part of myself again, though. It’s almost as if my inner tigress has been dormant because I haven’t had the extra energy to feed (or fan) her flames. 


And so today, I’ve felt not only this extra burst of sexual energy, but also a heightened sensitivity to my submissive side. These are the times that I would give anything to be tumbling around with you, and wrestling, if only as an appetizer to the moment that you would inevitably pin me and claim your prize.


It’s in moments like this one that my hunger for the edge grows strong and pulses intensely inside of me, my heart and cunt aligned in their appetites. I get so curious about things like pain and pleasure and limits and surpassing such limits. I think of the incredible poem by Christopher Logue:

Come to the edge,” he said.

        They said, “We are afraid.”

   “Come to the edge,” he said.


        They came.


    He pushed them…
 And they flew.
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