A Man With Hats | Smutober Day 19

Men Man With Hats

There Are No Pictures Of Michael Doing the Safety Dance

Back when I was younger, Mom used to say I was a “man of many hats”. She didn’t mean it literally.

She didn’t mean it literally, although I do have an admitted penchant for wearing hats. Instead, she meant that I had a lot of different titles and duties. I was Chief of Staff, Campaign Manager, Press Secretary, community organizer, political activist, and I held an elected position within the Democratic Party.

I don’t have the responsibilities I used to carry. I walked away from that rat race. Thankfully.

But, as I mentioned, I do have a penchant these days for wearing stylish hats. It’s become part of my “look”.

hats make the man?

I don’t believe that ‘hats make the man’ any more than the old adage that ‘clothes make the man’.

Hat’s and clothes are really about first impressions. They are about image.

Those are attributes that matter to an extent, but they are also quite shallow approximations of our depth as individuals.

I never liked ‘dressing up’. I associated it with being put into uncomfortable clothes for the ubiquitous church visits on Sunday.

At least I felt that way until I discovered kink and cosplay.

However, if your hats can become a statement of personal style, as they have for me, then why not?

hats do serve a purpose

I’ve never been terribly secure about my looks. So, wearing a hat as part of my personal style helps me feel more confident. I’ve been told many times that I look good in hats, that they suit me well.

And, it doesn’t hurt that hats cover the area on top of my head where my hair has become thinner with age. I look younger and better in a nice chapeau. I feel better with a lid covering my head.

Olympic Sex | Are the Brazilians Waxed?

Sport | Smutober Day 18 | Olympic Sex Games Edition

Are the Brazilians Waxed? ~ Naked Athletics ~ Bondage Athletes

Sex Olympics

Call it Olympic Sex, or perhaps Sex Olympics…

Let’s start with a historical tidbit. Perhaps you already knew this, but competitors in the original Olympic Games were nude.

At least that’s what I’ve read about the original Grecian games. I’m getting old, but I’m not quite old enough to have witnessed them…

I wonder if the undressed state of the participants was enjoyed properly by the audience?

Still today, the sex appeal of the modern Olympics is undeniable.

Olympic Sex

Those old Olympic Games look pretty kinky to me…

I have to wonder, are the Brazilians waxed?

Some of the Olympic sports even have names that seem sexualized…

Consider weightlifting, where you will find events like the “snatch” and the “clean and jerk”. Then there are the handballers, their sport’s name is a euphemism for fisting…

Of course, the athletes competing in the Olympics have spent their whole lives developing specific skill sets to match their chosen sport.

Beyond mental toughness, they must develop a number of physical attributes. Among those skills, balance, flexibility, coordination, and strength are some of the most important.

Olympic BDSM

At this point, I can’t help seeing some parallel skill sets at work between those marvelous competitive athletes and some others…

It is good for dominants to remember that not all submissives are as flexible as the models featured at sites such as Hogtied.com. It’s just the same as everywhere else, not all women are as flexible as the world-class gymnasts competing in the Olympic Games either.

Call it the Sex Olympics, the sexy Olympics, or Olympic Sex. While I’m not arguing that some BDSM porn stars are the equivalent of Olympic Athletes, I am saying there are some shared skill sets.

Including Olympic Sex!

It’s not a big secret. Durex, a condom company, donated 130,000 of their signature product to the Olympic village.

Durex marketing dude Mark Critchley even announced, “As the official supplier of condoms and lubricants, we hope the donation will help athletes improve their achievements between the sheets.”

Matt Sussman

Sex should be an Olympic sport, Bowling Green Falcon

Olympic Sex Games

It’s like the first day of college, you’re nervous, super excited. Everyone’s meeting people and trying to hook up with someone.

Tony Azevedo

Olympic Water Polo

It’s like Vegas, you learn not to ask a lot of questions.

John Godina

Olympic Shotput

If you find somebody you like and who likes you, your world’s complete for a second, and you compete well.

Breaux Greer

Olympic Javelin

There’s a lot of sex going on.

Hope Solo

Olympic Soccer

Olympic athletes have to display an unnatural … level of self-discipline in the build-up to big competitions. How else is this going to manifest itself than with a volcanic release of pent-up hedonism?

Matthew Syed

Olympic Table Tennis

Ryan Lochte - Olympic Swimming

I’d say it’s 70 percent to 75 percent of Olympians. Hey, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Carrie Sheinberg - Olympic Skiing

Just a magical, fairy-tale place, like Alice in Wonderland, where everything is possible. You could win a gold medal and you can sleep with a really hot guy.

Emily Brydon - Olympic Skiing

What happens at Olympic Village stays at Olympic village. There’s a lot of stress pent up over the week, so it’s safe to say that some good times happen.

I’m running a friggin’ brothel in the Olympic Village! I’ve never witnessed so much debauchery in my entire life.

Josh Lakatos

Olympic Target Shooting

Hope Solo

Hope Solo - Olympic Soccer

Unlike at a bar, it’s not awkward to strike up a conversation because you have something in common. It starts with, ‘What sport do you play?’ All of a sudden, you’re fist-bumping.

The entire women’s 4×100 relay team of some Scandinavian-looking country walks out of the house, followed by boys from our side. And I’m just going, ‘Holy crap, we’d watched these girls run the night before.’

Josh Lakatos

Olympic Target Shooter

I am often asked if the Olympic village is the sex-fest it is cracked up to be. My answer is: too right it is. My first games was Barcelona in 1992, and I got laid more often in those two and a half weeks than in the rest of my life up to that point.

Matthew Syed

Olympic Table Tennis

Brandi Chastain - Olympic soccer

When I walked in for the first time in Atlanta, there were loud cheers. So we look over and see two French handballers dressed only in socks, shoes, jockstraps, neckties and hats on top of a dining table, feeding one another lunch. We’re like, ‘Holy cow, what is this place?

We’d graze over our food for hours watching all the eye candy, wondering why I got married.

Julie Foudy

Olympic Soccer

Olympic Sex Alicia Sacramone

Alicia Sacramone - Olympic Gymnast.

As far as best bodies, it’s swimmers and water polo players, because that’s an insane workout. And the track guys, they’re sneaky-cute. Very serious, but when they lighten up, you’re like, ‘Oh, you’re kind of adorable.

Carrie Sheinberg - Olympic Alpine Skiing

Olympians are adventurers. They look for a challenge, like having sex with someone who doesn’t speak their language.

Breaux Greer - Olympic Javelin

The girls are in skimpy panties and bras, the dudes in underwear, so you see what everybody is working with from the jump. Even if their face is a 7, their body is a 20.

Hope Solo - Olympic Soccer

With a once-in-a-lifetime experience, you want to build memories, whether it’s sexual, partying or on the field. I’ve seen people having sex right out in the open. On the grass, between buildings, people are getting down and dirty.

revised and updated for MichaelSamadhi.com

from material originally posted at SpiritualBDSM.com

Geekdom or Geek Dom? | Smutober Sex Geek

Yes, I’m a Sex Geek | Smutober Day 17

Geekdom or Geek Dom? Both?

when owning just one neon wand just isn’t enough… #gearfetish

A good number of folks into BDSM could also be called sex geeks.

And really, what’s geekier than electrical play?

Being a geek is a great thing. I think we’re all geeks. Being a geek means you’re passionate about something and that defines your uniqueness. I would rather be passionate about something than be apathetic about everything.

Masi Oka

Happy, Baby Won’t You Keep Me… Happy | Smutober

Smutober Day 16 | Baby Won’t You Keep Me… Happy

never kept a dollar past sunset, it always burned a hole in my pants

Sinnjara, Tricia, Michael (left to right)


Baby Won’t You Keep Me… Happy

We all want to be happy. Well perhaps most want to be happy, I’m not so sure about Baudelaire. Sometimes I think he reveled in being tortured. Then I think to myself, he was human too, he wanted what we all want.

But how much is your happiness worth? Is it ever worth the cost of other’s happiness? Is happiness like love? Poly people like to use the analogy of love and children. It’s the belief that we have the capacity to love many, just as we have the capacity to love more than one child. I think that’s true. Well, most days I think it’s true.

If that were true, it would seem there’s plenty of love and happiness in the world to go around. We all know that’s not true on the grand scale of things. The world needs more love. Most of us could use more happiness too. I’d like to believe that our own happiness enriches the world. Most days I know that to be fact. Todays is a day, however, full of creeping doubt.

As I learn and grow, that growth sometimes leads me in new directions. I’m not exactly the same person I was five years ago, My Mother’s death changed me. I’m certainly not the person I was 10 years ago, my divorce from Bliss changed me too. Just under twenty years ago, my Father abandoned my Mother for another woman after 40 years of marriage, leaving me to be Mom’s caregiver. No doubt that changed me as well.

Anytime I change, anytime I reach for my own happiness, it leaves destruction in its wake. When I change and grow, it seems to hurt others around me. They still cling to the Michael they loved, adored, or served. When that same exact Michael is no longer there, it hurts them.

I don’t want to sound egotistical. It’s not that I’m such a great man that I ever really deserved the love and adoration they gifted upon me. It’s just that I seem to have a great ability to create co-dependent relationships. And that codependency, I think, leads to great disruption as I go through the stages of life we all navigate.

My very first girlfriend showed up a few years ago, it had been 30 years since I’d had any contact. She said that she still loved me, that breaking up with me was the worst mistake she’d ever made. Bliss, my second wife, still feels she was pushed aside by Serafina. Now, Serafina feels pushed aside by Sinnjara.

How did this happen? I never wanted a monogamous relationship. I always wanted a big happy polyamorous family. But, there’s no doubt that poly relationships are more difficult to navigate than mono. They say communication is the key to poly. I’m told I’m a great communicator. I have special expertise there, I’ve served as a Press Secretary and spokesperson after all. In relationships, I’m also told I sometimes communicate too much. Go figure, right?

In the end, we all want to be happy. We all want the fulfilled life of our dreams. But, how does a person justify seeking happiness if it always has to come at a cost?

Sinnjara, Michael, Serafina

Well I never kept a dollar past sunset,
It always burned a hole in my pants.
Never made a school mama happy,
Never blew a second chance, oh no

I need a love to keep me happy,
I need a love to keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.

Always took candy from strangers,
Didn’t wanna get me no trade.
Never want to be like papa,
Working for the boss ev’ry night and day.

I need a love to keep me happy,
I need a love, baby won’t ya keep me happy.
Baby, won’t ya keep me happy.
Baby, please keep me

I need a love to keep me happy,
I need a love to keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.

Never got a flash out of cocktails,
When I got some flesh off the bone.
Never got a lift out of Lear jets,
When I can fly way back home.

I need a love to keep me happy,
I need a love to keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.
Baby, baby keep me happy.

Happy, baby won’t you keep me
Happy, baby won’t you keep me…

Rolling Stones

Happy, Mick Jagger / Keith Richards

A Steamy Shower Silhouette  | Smutober Day 15

Steaming The Glass Ceiling Shower

a peek at some very steamy shower play

Today, I’m sharing an image from my favorite steamy shower.

It’s not in my home. In fact, the entire main floor bathroom here, in the modest abode we call Chateau Samadhi, might fit within the confines of this luxurious shower.

Of course, my dear reader, I’m not going to actually show the whole shower…

How I love all of you! Do you feel me wrap you
Up with myself and my warmth, like a flame round the wick?…

D.H. Lawrence


The original image (above) as seen by the camera, is unadulterated, no filter or effect.

One of my regular commenters recently called me a tease.
On that count, I hope this image delivers!
~ Michael 10/15/2017

p.s. – In case the quote (or your dirty mind) were not clues enough for you, my dear reader… Sinnjara (not the model) suggested I add another picture (right) to help give better “context” to the main image.

I hope you enjoyed the tease…

Charles Baudelaire – Key to Pointing Michael’s Way

Portrait of Charles Baudelaire | art by Michael Samadhi | adapted from photograph by Etienne Carjat (circa 1866)

Épater la bourgeoisie! | Wicked Wednesday | Smutober Day 14

Poet, Philosopher, Visionary… | Charles Baudelaire (1821 – 1867)

I’ve always been fascinated by Charles Baudelaire – his life, philosophy, and poetry. An undeniably brilliant man, it seems without a doubt that he lived a truly dissolute life.

It’s said that Charles Baudelaire was lazy, self-indulgent, and emotionally unstable. At the same time, he was also a brilliant visionary. Baudelaire’s indolence was matched by insight. His instability far out-shadowed by his influence.

In writing this, I’ve had more than my share of realizations, stirred by youthful memories. I feel a certain kinship with Baudelaire. His writing and life, his philosophy, influenced me in ways I hadn’t realized. In many respects, he provided keys to unlock parts of my own mind I had not known. Baudelaire pointed me towards Michael’s Way…

I hope you enjoy the collected artwork, as well as the images I’ve edited/created. Along with my own thoughts interspersed throughout, you’ll find a variety of insights into Charles Baudelaire from his own writing. Finally, I’ve included a variety of commentary about Baudelaire by those who have reviewed his writing and studied his life. I think Paul Valéry’s quote (near the end) will sum up some of Baudelaire’s philosophical appeal to a Dominant quite well…

Nature is a temple where living columns
Let slip from time to time uncertain words;
Man finds his way through forests of symbols
Which regard him with familiar gazes.

Charles Baudelaire

Lament Of An Icarus

The paramours of courtesans
Are well and satisfied, content.
But as for me my limbs are rent
Because I clasped the clouds as mine.
I owe it to the peerless stars
Which flame in the remotest sky
That I see only with spent eyes
Remembered suns I knew before.
In vain I had at heart to find
The center and the end of space.
Beneath some burning, unknown gaze
I feel my very wings unpinned
And, burned because I beauty loved,
I shall not know the highest bliss,
And give my name to the abyss
Which waits to claim me as its own.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

The Lament for Icarus by Herbert James Draper (1898)

He could be said to have been the first modern poet: TS Eliot thought so, saying he was “the greatest exemplar in modern poetry in any language”.

It is as much a matter of his state of mind as anything else. Baudelaire was given to reverie and despair in more or less equal parts or, as he put it, “Spleen et Idéal”. He was very conscious of the way his mind was elsewhere, unsuited to quotidian existence. The idea of the poet who is scornful or terrified of everyday life pretty much begins with him.

Nicholas Lezard

The Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire review – the essence of a genius, The Guardian

I took a lot of French in High School, and some in College. I was advanced enough to earn membership in the National French Honor Society. But, I’ll be damned if I could ever understand Charles Baudelaire in his native tongue.

My French was just good enough to attempt to understand poetry like Baudelaire’s, to read the words (mostly) but miss the concepts. I did better with Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

I’ve read that Baudelaire made exquisite use of the French language. It really escaped me. I relied on translations. That’s less than ideal, I know. For instance, there’s another translation of Lament Of An Icarius that reads significantly differently than the one I shared earlier in the post.

As a small child, I felt in my heart two contradictory feelings, the horror of life and the ecstasy of life. Charles Baudelaire

Lament Of An Icarus

Lovers of whores don’t care,
happy, calm and replete:
But my arms are incomplete,
grasping the empty air.
Thanks to stars, incomparable ones,
that blaze in the depths of the skies,
all my destroyed eyes
see, are the memories of suns.
I look, in vain, for beginning and end
of the heavens’ slow revolve:
Under an unknown eye of fire, I ascend
feeling my wings dissolve.
And, scorched by desire for the beautiful,
I will not know the bliss,
of giving my name to that abyss,
that knows my tomb and funeral.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

Portrait of Charles Baudelaire painted in 1844 by Emile Deroy

Baudelaire was a contrarian: a well-dressed dandy who delighted in the company of the back-street bars and bordellos, a purist in pursuit of artistic beauty who would spend his nights dazed with alcohol and drugs. Thus it was entirely in character that he should bestow the status of mistress on a barely literate mixed-race woman who seemingly had little to offer but her fleshly charms. James MacManus

Baudelaire’s Femme Fatale Muse, The Daily Beast

Charles Baudelaire was a complex man. He was a tortured soul.

The number of words written about Baudelaire vastly outnumbers his own quite meager production. His life was like the proverbial train wreck – we want to look away but cannot, our eyes drawn unceasingly to the disaster.

It’s easy to be frustrated with Baudelaire. It could be argued that he wasted his talent. His disparate life is as difficult to understand as the man himself. If he didn’t invent the model for the crazy visionary artist, he certainly refined it for the modern era.

How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering. Charles Baudelaire

An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all deformities and all disproportion.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

To handle a language skillfully is to practice a kind of evocative sorcery.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

Sexuality is the lyricism of the masses.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

A few years ago I heard a sharp critic ask a poet what animated his work, what were his poetic concerns? “The city,” said the poet, pausing. “And boredom.” “More than a century later,” the critic said, “and we’re still catching up to Baudelaire.”

So goes Charles Baudelaire’s reputation for seeing such matters early. He’s the first modern man. Or at least the first modern poet — obscure, impoverished and suppressed in his lifetime. A sort of Goth dandy (“We’re all celebrating some burial or other,” he wrote), he completed only two full books of poetry. The first, “Flowers of Evil,” was prosecuted on its 1857 release as an affront to the public morals, as was “Madame Bovary.” Flaubert’s novel was vindicated; “Flowers of Evil” vanished, returning after four years with six poems excised, numerous others added. Six dissolute years later the poet was dead at age 46.

Joshua Clover

Invitation to the Voyage, NY Times

Before I became a Buddhist (discovering I’m a Pagan came recently) I had a very fatalistic outlook on life. While I was influenced by the Transcendentalism of Walt Whitman and David Thoreau, I also felt a certain kinship to the Decadents.

Much like Baudelaire, I’ve lived a life of excesses. My experimentation with drugs has included a wide enough range of mind-altering substances that I consider myself to be a psychonaut. I’ve experienced my share of lovers, and have left few stones unturned. There are very few of my own sexual fantasies I haven’t already fulfilled.

While I certainly have the intellect and ability to have pursued a career in medicine or law. I chose instead a life of near poverty as an activist and community organizer. Some might count my days as wasted, but I was too busy cracking open the bones of life, sucking out the marrow, to have noticed. I’ve lived life deep, full, and (mostly) on my own terms.


I am fair, O mortals! like a dream carved in stone,
And my breast where each one in turn has bruised himself
Is made to inspire in the poet a love
As eternal and silent as matter.
On a throne in the sky, a mysterious sphinx,
I join a heart of snow to the whiteness of swans;
I hate movement for it displaces lines,
And never do I weep and never do I laugh.
Poets, before my grandiose poses,
Which I seem to assume from the proudest statues,
Will consume their lives in austere study;
For I have, to enchant those submissive lovers,
Pure mirrors that make all things more beautiful:
My eyes, my large, wide eyes of eternal brightness!

Charles Baudelaire

If rape or arson, poison or the knife
Has wove no pleasing patterns in the stuff
Of this drab canvas we accept as life—
It is because we are not bold enough!

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

It would be difficult for me not to conclude that the most perfect type of masculine beauty is Satan, as portrayed by Milton. 

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

Portrait de Charles Baudelaire by Franz Kupka

T.S. Eliot spoke of seeing Baudelaire as “something more than the author of the Fleurs du Mal.” “He is in fact a greater man than was imagined, though perhaps not such a perfect poet.” This is an odd view, but Eliot was, by 1930, tired of what he called Baudelaire’s machinery (“prostitutes, mulattoes, Jewesses, serpents, cats, corpses”) and anxious to register signs of spiritual struggle wherever he could find them. Baudelaire “attracted pain to himself,” was able to “study his suffering.”

Some seventeen years later Sartre made a passing reference to “Baudelaire’s greatness as a man” but generally saw him as something less than the author of the Fleurs du Mal, as someone who hid in the skirts of a religion he might have rejected, who chose not to choose his vertiginous freedom and converted his life into a lingering figurative suicide. “A hundred removals and not a single voyage”; “he elected to confuse the satisfaction of desire with its unsatisfied exasperation.”

Of course there is no great distance between these pictures of the poet. Only the evaluations differ. What is greatness for Eliot is evasion for Sartre. And the pictures are curiously alike in their unwillingness to focus on Baudelaire’s masterpiece. Les Fleurs du Mal is so disturbing a book, so spectacular and so patchy, so atrocious as Baudelaire himself said, that readers have always been tempted to avert their eyes from it—to prefer the prose poems, for example, or the intimate journals, or to bury themselves in the wretched, posturing letters in which Baudelaire, early and late, tried to persuade his mother that he really was the little boy she had always wanted, “that he was working hard,” as F. W. J. Hemmings nicely puts it, “and would shortly be at the top of the class.”

Michael Wood

Beautiful and Damned, The New York Review of Books

Nearly all our originality comes from the stamp that time impresses upon our sensibility.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

The lover of life makes the whole world into his family, just as the lover of the fair sex creates his from all the lovely women he has found, from those that could be found, and those who are impossible to find.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

An artist is only an artist on condition that he neglects no aspect of his dual nature. This dualism is the power of being oneself and someone else at one and the same time.

   ~ Charles Baudelaire

Perhaps we truly are little more than the sum of our influences.

We learn a snippet here, a verse there. And then, over time, they become a part of our existence. Perhaps you were most influenced by your parents, most folks probably are. My family was dysfunctional, so I deliberately looked elsewhere.

It could be argued I choose poorly in my influences. I’ve certainly heard that said by more than just family. But, the individuals who pointed my way had vision and originality. While those individual influences may have disagreed on many details, I believe they all felt that a man must, in the end, seek and fulfill his own vision.

Like the Transcendentalists, the Decadent Movement gave me keys to unlocking the recesses of my own mind. They were critical elements in my self-discovery. In that sense, Charles Baudelaire, like many others, helped to point me towards the man, the lover, the dominant, and ultimately the Master I’ve become.

Épater la bourgeoisie!

Delacroix, Wagner, Baudelaire—all great theorists, bent on dominating other souls by sensorial means. Their one dream was to create the irresistible effect—to intoxicate, or overwhelm. They looked to analysis to provide them with the keyboard on which to play, with certainty, on man’s emotions, and they sought in abstract meditation the key to absolutely certain action upon their subject—man’s nervous and psychic being. . . . [It was] the ambition of such violent and tormented minds, anxious to reach and as it were possess (in the diabolical sense of the term) that tender and hidden region of the soul by which it can be held and controlled entire, through the indirect path of the entrails and organic depths of being. They wish to enslave . . . and to bring us into bondage.

Paul Valéry

Portrait of Baudelaire by Gustave Courbet (1843)

On August 31, 1867, at the age of forty-six, Charles Baudelaire died in Paris. Although doctors at the time didn’t mention it, it is likely that syphilis caused his final illness.


A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors.

Charles Baudelaire

Be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked!

Wicked Wednesday Logo - old
The old Wicked Wednesday logo fit's perfect with this post's theme. Marie's beautiful rainbow logo will return next week...

Playing at the Historic Hotel Julien Dubuque | Smutober Day 11

Smutober Day 11 – Hotel

BDSM in a Historic Hotel that was once co-owned by Al Capone

So Many Hotels

What’s better than a good BDSM scene at a fine hotel? Why of course a good BDSM scene at a fine historic hotel…

For some folks, a hotel’s historic status may not matter at all. For them, the primary criteria for lodging may be its value. They simply want the best bang for their buck (figuratively and literally.) Who can blame them? Money doesn’t grow on trees after all.

Others look for their choice of hotel based on location. That’s also something that really matters when traveling, whether for business or pleasure. It makes absolutely no sense to book a room far across town from the attractions you hope to visit, or the business meetings you must attend.

I also know folks who base their lodging preferences on amenities. They value neither cost, nor location, but instead prize all the different luxuries a fine hotel may offer. Perhaps they want a spa day at the hotel, fine dining attached to the facility, or just a quality business center and conference rooms.

I understand all of those perspectives. In fact, I’ve used most of the same criteria as appropriate. But when choosing a hotel for some BDSM fun, I look for something a little different.

Hotel BDSM

I’m a bit different from the crowd (like that’s a surprise for anyone who reads this blog!) Mom sometimes swore I was a contrarian, but I’ve always considered myself to be more of an eccentric than anything. I know I’m outside the norm, and I like it that way.

One of the first things I look for when I’m seeking lodgings is a hot-tub. If you’ve been reading along, that’s something I already discussed for Sinful Sunday back at the end of last month in a post called – Hot, wet, bubbles. When traveling, long days on the road tend to make a person, not only road weary, but also road sore. A good soak in a hot tub is the perfect prescription for shaking all those aches and pains right off.

I’d hope that the reasoning behind wanting a hot tub in my room for a personal play party is mostly self-evident. Hot tubs are great icebreakers, what better way to get a party started than with a quick strip ‘n’ dip? And, I can’t think of a better place to sit and watch another’s scene than from the hot tub, perhaps with a nice mixed drink or glass of wine.

Beyond that, I really look for atmosphere. Is it a room with a view? How will the room look in the pictures I inevitably want to take? Does the room provide reasonable privacy, so that an alarmed hotel staff doesn’t come crashing through my door because of another patron’s complaints?

And finally, there among the highest priorities, is it a historic hotel?

Elegant Accommodations. Exceptional Service.

Hotel Julien Dubuque is an elegant boutique hotel that marries modern amenities with historic charm in the heart of the Old Main District. Visit us for the ultimate in relaxation and sophistication.

Historic Hotel Julien Dubuque

I live in the MidWest of the United States, not necessarily an area known for its history. Nor, to the best of my knowledge, are we especially well known for quality hotels. We are farm country. The immigrants who populated our area are primarily Protestant Germanic and Scandinavian in heritage. For the most part, we are simple folk.

The City of Dubuque is a little bit older, with a different demographic than most of the state. Located on the Upper Mississippi River, it was one of the earliest cities in Iowa to be settled. It’s first permanent settler was Quebecois pioneer Julien Dubuque, who arrived in 1785. It was subsequently settled by poor Catholic Germans and Irish.

Dubuque has an interesting historic downtown that I enjoy exploring. It’s also the home to one of my favorite places to stay and play, the historic Hotel Julien Dubuque.

Hotel Julien Dubuque has the great atmosphere I desire. Local folklore states that mobster Al Capone used it, not only as a place of escape but was also one part-owner of the establishment. With that in mind, it’s not at all difficult to imagine yourself stepping into a scene from the roaring ’20’s in the beautifully restored main lobby.

Visit during the winter, and you’ll find the hot tub rooms on the east side of the hotel have exquisite lighting at sunrise. On a clear day, the glow from that light is absolutely awesome for photography.

The rooms are generously sized. And, there are enough luggage carts that managing to keep one in the room overnight, (for my favorite nefarious use as a rolling bondage platform,) happens without raising an eyebrow from staff. For a small play party with friends, it’s just perfect.

I’m told there’s a nice spa there too. I wouldn’t know. There’s never been time for anything but relaxing in the hot tub, photography, and hot BDSM play…

This old “Julien Hotel” survived a fire, hosted famous guests such as Abraham Lincoln, “Buffalo Bill,” Cody and Mark Twain, gained notoriety thanks to Al Capone…

Hotel Julien – Reviewed for Kinksters

Since this post is turning into a bit of a BDSM travelogue review, I should mention that the Hotel Julien Dubuque is not a 5-star hotel.

It’s probably more like 3 1/2 stars. By Midwestern standards it’s nice, but it’s not an absolutely top of the line sort of venue.

It’s located in a conservative town (even by normal bible-belt standards) of just over 50,000 souls, not exactly a normal vacation destination for the kinky crowd, even by Midwest standards.

The hotel’s service is nice, but not truly exceptional. Staff is friendly, but not as crisp and neat as might be found in larger cities at the nicer hotels.

Food is typical Midwestern fare for the most part. It’s not that I’m terribly adventurous in my culinary pursuits anyway, so it’s a decent fit for me. If I suggested a good steak, would it surprise you?

With its conservative bent and the town’s relative size, Dubuque is not exactly a hotbed of BDSM activity. While I know a good handful of dedicated kinksters from that area, it’s been hard for the region to sustain a solid BDSM group.

Historically, the Dubuque-Platteville-Galena D/s, M/s, & Power Exchange Discussion group has remained relatively small for a variety of reasons beyond population size. Many from the area prefer to play 90 miles away in the Quad Cities, where a pair of more sizeable groups currently exists.

None of the issues found in the local scene matter at all if you take your own party to the hotel. That’s what I’ve always done. And, it’s worked very well for me. I’ve never had an outrageously loud play party at the Hotel Julien Dubuque. But, the venue has hosted some fairly serious play.

My friend Alpha cut the clothes off of a bound Serafina’s there one night, we used a gag to make sure she didn’t scream. No one went out of our way to get loud and invite attention to ourselves. But, the scene did include spanking and flogging, and there were no calls or knocks on the door from staff or management.

The Hotel Julien Dubuque is perhaps a little pricey for what you get. I’ve only visited out of season on a weeknight. Call me a frugal dom, but, I also find that a less populated hotel is preferable for kinky fuckery. When I priced it for a 4th of July weekend romp, the peak holiday rate was beyond my somewhat limited means.

I’d rather have a $400 pair of matched floggers than a night’s stay in Dubuque.

The Hotel Julien became known as one of the finest hotels in the Midwest and hosted many grand banquets and famous guests. But of all the personages said to have stayed in the Hotel Julien, none has aroused more curiosity and speculation than the notorious Chicago gangster AI Capone. Local lore alleges that when things got “hot” in Chicago. Capone would travel with his entourage to Dubuque, hiding out in the Hotel Julien. He reportedly made use of a nearby underground garage to hide his cars and further conceal his presence in Dubuque. Some say he even owned the hotel at one point.

All the images in the post are from the historic Hotel Julien Dubuque. Models are Serafina and my friend Alpha, who’s doing his famous clothes cutoff scene.

A Naked Michael | Wicked Wednesday | Smutober


So You Want to See Michael Naked?

Well, for Smutober and Wicked Wednesday, here goes…

Naked – The Prompt

Today’s Smutober prompt is -naked-.

That should be an easy topic, right? For a man who literally has thousands of photos from the past few years on his hard drive, there has to be more than a few quality nudes, right?

Well, perhaps there are naked pictures of others. Not so much for me. The closest thing to a good nude of me was posted for a Sinful Sunday back in August – I was supposed to LOWER the towel?

Nearly all of the photos taken with my Nikon cameras are in action shots. I don’t do “posing”. I document scenes as they happen. While I enjoy watching a good scene, photographing one is even more fun. The pictures taken of me are the same, they are the result of my play, not of any posing or planning.

And, to be honest, I’m not partial to getting naked myself for scene play. Yes, I often have a submissive disrobe for me at the start of a scene, unless I’m planning to cut off her clothes. But my clothes usually stay on.

That’s at least partially a “power thing”. When a submissive is naked before me, and I remain clothed, it works to establish/reinforce the power exchange. I also tend to wear clothes that reinforce the power exchange. Dressing in all black, a suit and tie, in military fatigues, or perhaps in leathers, helps to establish an immediate command presence.

It’s also a “sex thing”. Just because I play with a submissive doesn’t mean I’ll also want/expect intercourse. In fact, that’s not likely to happen at all unless we are in a serious relationship. I’m complex that way. Without a serious relationship, I’m quite satisfied to keep my cock in my pants.

Real Naked

Being naked to me isn’t really about taking my clothes off. I’ve gotten naked in front of a group without hesitation. I’ve played in front of an audience so many times now it’s become a thrill. I put on a good show, clothes on or off.

But to me being naked has nothing to do with nudity. Feeling naked is when I bare my soul. When I talk about my inner fantasies, personal demons, ambitions, faults, and insecurities. Those are the things that make me feel naked.

I can cover my body with clothes and symbols of power. But, there’s no covering up that inner core of who you have been, and what you are now. I played football and other competitive sports back when I was in school, physical pain doesn’t daunt me too much. But, risking the emotional pain of having that inner core doubted or rejected, that can mean real pain.

That’s the part of myself I protect, my psyche. That’s the part of me I hold within a shell, not my body. Question my intent, my truthfulness, or my integrity, and it hurts beyond words. I know I’m human, an imperfect man, but when my faults are brought into the light, I will likely just want to recede into the shadows.

Naked Insecurities

Let me say up front that dominants are no different than any other human, we have our share of frailties and insecurities. I think some dominants hide their own insecurities behind a domineering mask. Perhaps I might go so far as to say that’s the mask many dominants wear.

That’s not at all who I am. I will win respect with my integrity and intelligence, my knowledge and skills. If we were graded in life like we were in schools, I’d like to think those are subjects where I’d get high marks. Hell, I know those are areas I’d ace…

Yet, I remain insecure. The smallest things, inconsequential things can throw me for a loop with no warning. Something like 90% – 95% of the time I’m just fine. Then I have “one of those days”.

And when I have those kinds of days, I feel even more deficient. After all, I don’t style myself as a dominant, I see myself as being on the path of Mastery. From myself, I expect more.

Naked Depression

Since I’m baring my soul, I cannot deny that I’m also fighting long-term depression.

It goes back quite a spell, at least 10 years. I am still capable of fun and of passion, the smiles in the images shown here on my blog are sincere and real.

For the most part though, I just don’t show or talk about the bad days.

My depression has worsened in the last few years, there’s been an increase in anxiety as well. Pursuing polyamory, in addition to living a D/s and/or M/s lifestyle, has made navigating the waters of life rather hazardous. I wish it were otherwise, but it’s certainly become true.

I left politics so I could be free to be myself, to live my lifestyle without fear or shame. I was tired of feeling like I was living in hiding. When my Mom passed away in 2011, I felt I’d truly be free to live without shame. (I was “out” to my Mother about BDSM, but she vocally disapproved of my lifestyle.)

Since then, however, my depression has worsened. It’s as bad as anytime outside of working my last year in politics – at the same time as my Mother’s health became precarious. It’s been tough.

They say depression hurts, and it’s literally true. My arthritis, the diabetic neuropathy in my lower legs, none of it hurts as much when I’m feeling better mentally. When I’m depressed, it feels like I’m facing a hill I could never climb, just to get out of my chair. Sometimes thinking even hurts.

Michael Naked

So, dear reader, there you have it. I stand naked before you. Not literally, but perhaps at the same time, far more naked than if I had shot a nude picture just for this post.

While I style myself as being on the road to Mastery, I have struggles just like most other folks. I have insecurities and my share of anxieties. My depression has worsened. All those years in politics took a toll on my physical health. I’m not always the man I want to be.

At the same time, I can also guarantee you that every day I work to learn and to grow. Despite my difficulties, I’d like to think I’m still on the correct path, it just gets a little faint sometimes…

Be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked!

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Tie | Smutober Day 9


The word tie for me just instantly brings up suit porn in my mind. Then I thought rope, silk, suit porn, a tie hanging off a cock, and back to suit porn again. Alright, maybe images of suit porn will help get the creative mind working for the word tie.

Well, it got some things working or rather flowing but it certainly wasn’t my creative mind if the moisture between my thighs was any indication. After about 50 drool-worthy photos of men in suits, I was at the end of the page and I’m thinking should I click next or look for other inspiration. I can’t help but laugh right now as I’m writing this because I want to go look at suit porn some more.

So yes, I did click next, I just couldn’t stop myself.

Right at the top of the next page were these two exquisite men in suits.

Really what’s not to like … two really hot guys, in expensive suits, half dressed, with cocks that make my mouth water and my cunt drip loving and pleasing each other.

Oh, and they had on a tie! Cannot forget the tie, it’s the word that got me looking at suit porn after all. There’s only one image that takes me from sitting pretty and dry to bitch in heat instantly and that would be Master Samadhi in a suit and tie. Thinking of that made me forget to save the pic of the two guys from my searching.

I think I’ll keep the image of Master Samadhi in a suit to myself ….. for now.

My father used to say

‘Let them see you, and not the suit. 

That is secondary.’

Carey Grant

Page 1 of 3123

Pin It on Pinterest