I am not a perfect victim

I am not a perfect victim. If, heaven forbid, anything ever happened to me, the new reports would not read “Rain DeGrey, wife, writer and activist, loving owner of 2 dogs and 2 cats” but rather “Rain DeGrey BDSM porn star” and that label skews everything else you might read. I would, in some way, *deserve* whatever happened to me because of my day job.

I never factored in that when I decided to become a Professional Naked Person that I would be trading in some basic rights as a result.

Most people can reasonably expect that they should not be hassled, talked down to, berated, dismissed or mocked. Oh sure, these things happen to us all. But once you throw in that I am a PNP, all of a sudden these is a distinct and distasteful undercurrent of “Well. She IS just a porn star. What does she expect?” in so very many of my interactions with other people.

I am not a perfect victim. While the fact I can be found naked on the internet is in no way the most important thing about me as a person, it is all others seem to see, and the label of “porn star” is the prism that everyone filters their interactions with me through. Go to the cops for being stalked? They would laugh me out of the station. Stand up for not being hassled and persecuted? How quickly the slurs of “Dumb whore” “Stupid porn skank” and “Go choke on a dick you cum sponge” get tossed my way.

For all that people voraciously consume what PNP produce, they seem to be unable to not look down their nose at the people making it. People love porn. LOVE LOVE LOVE it. But they also love to hate the people that make it. And I did not sign up to be a second class citizen when I decided to explore an aspect of being kinky that brings me so much joy.

I will always be an activist. I will always stand up for what I believe in. I will, to my very last breath, demand to be treated equally with my fellow human beings. You might not like it. You might wish the loud mouthed porn girl would just shut the fuck up already about nonconsensual dick photos flung her way by total strangers, you might think that I have less rights then a perfect victim.

I honestly do not care what you think. You can not slut shame me. You can not make me feel guilty about doing something I love. I will not be quiet. I will always fight for my rights. I am more then the cartoon character you carry around in your head. I am flesh and blood, I am human, and I deserve to be treated equally and reasonably.


Dick Pics: You are missing your target market

I get it. I truly do. Your dick, your special trouser snake, that joy stick of happiness, is the most magical dick in all of the land. There is no other dick like it in the entire world. Never mind that 50 percent of people on the planet have one. Never mind that for the vast bulk of women, they care more about the man that the dick is attached to then the flesh tube dangling there and occasionally getting stuck to your thigh on a hot day.

Your trouser snake is so magical that the mere sight of it when flung into stranger’s inboxes will immediately reduce them into a cock craving frenzy. They will not be able to think straight until they have their sweaty lil paws all over your manmeat.

Except not really.

Dick is somewhat lower on a woman’s priority list. They actually care more about if you have your shit together, if you have a job, if you are confident, if you have some sort of skill set, if you are a functioning human being. Few and far between are the women that are so cock obsessed that the only thing that matters is the peen. That completely discount the dude attached to the dick and only care about what you are packing.

But you know who really really likes cock shots?

Gay guys.

All over the world, your poorly lit cock shots with a tv remote thoughtfully included for size comparison are being completely ignored by women and eagerly consumed by cock craving gay guys. So by all means, keep flinging out your erect man meat photos all over the internet. But know the eyeballs appreciating them are usually not quite the target market you were aiming for…

Why I bottom

Bottoming puts me immediately in the moment. It grounds me in the now.

I am not thinking about needing to buy cat food, if my cell phone bill is paid, what that rude person said to me the other day, all the hundred different things you have to be on top of on a daily basis to just function on this planet.

I am never more aware of my body then when I bottom, and I seek total destruction. I seek to be pushed into a sweating, drooling, unable to sit up or get my eyes uncrossed state. I want to be unable to remember my own name. I want to be pushed into the realms of lights and colors and altered realties that a good session can provide.

We are not crazy people over here. There is a science, an art, to what we do. There is a REASON for what we do. The things we do dump a truckload of endorphins, adrenaline and natural pain killing opiates into our brainmeat and I get so blasted that I can not walk in a straight line. And I adore it with every fiber of my being.

And perhaps most importantly to me, bottoming is empowering as fuck. As a woman, I have been told from birth to be careful, don’t go outside at night, things are not safe, people can HURT you. The constant relentless message is that you are weak and fragile wears you down like you wouldn’t believe. There is nothing more empowering than getting the stuffing knocked out of you and realizing that you are so much tougher than you thought. I feel like Wonder Woman when I bottom. It makes me feel incredibly strong.

Bottoms do not get the credit for what they bring to the table. Subs are not “less than” Doms. They are both sides of the same coin, and one doesn’t work without the other. And most Doms would crumble under what they can easily dish out. Bottoms, you are tough cookies. Don’t you ever forget that.

Why I Top

I crave the control.

The feeling of absolute power when someone willing submits to you, puts themselves trustingly into your hands, is like honey and electricity on my tongue. My heart beats faster, every sense is sharpened. I want to maul their tender flesh and leave my mark behind. Every whimper, every moan, every response as I play their body like an instrument is like music to my ears.

When someone trusts you enough to hand their body over to you, it is the most beautiful thing in the word. I want to guide and mold them, protect them, help them, keep them safe. I want to be the buffer between them and a cold and cruel world.

Even if that “protection” takes the form of beating them with a Russian rubber riot police baton until my biceps ache. What can I say? I am a giver like that…

Why men find wooing so difficult

Unless you have been living under a rock your entire life, at some point you will of heard at least a hint of a whisper of the derp women face on a regular basis. And it is bad. It really is. Women have been self reporting on this on a consistent basis, but these reports regularly seem to get dismissed as exaggerations or women making a big deal out of little things and being dramatic.

Occasionally, a guy will get curious and go try a female profile before coming back wide eyed saying “Holy shiiiiiit they were NOT exaggerating in the slightest!!”

So why is it that men find wooing so hard?

Because they have never needed to before.

Throughout most of human history, women were second class citizens at best, if they were not property outright, to be transferred from father to husband. Marriages were mainly business arrangements and two people marrying for love or desire was unusual. When you could not own property, vote or have a job, you took the husband that came along and made do.

Women have been labeled “high strung ” and “hysterical ” throughout the ages, but if you were essentially living in solitary confinement with no job, money or options with some stranger you were married off to that probably didn’t even know what a clitoris was, is it any wonder women would occasionally go a little twitchy?

Those mouth breathing basement dwellers firing off the endless “heyyyy bb, wanna fuk??” emails that clog inboxes the world over would have had women back in the day, usually through arranged marriages. It didn’t matter your lack of social skills or game, you could get a companion. But now women can have jobs and own property and have options outside of getting a ring on the ringer and settling down to cooking and churning out babies. And men haven’t quite adapted to the new order of things yet.

I get that asking out someone is hard, and endless rejection starts to grate and wear down one’s self esteem after a while. But who exactly are you doing the asking to?

I have picked up my courage plenty of times and asked and gotten turned down flat. It stings. But you pick yourself up and ask someone else, hopefully under more successful circumstances. The *DIFFERENCE* is that men will overlook the rather obvious clues of “head down, no eye contact, walking away rapidly, a profile saying not interested, not single and not looking” and ask anyway, then get frustrated at their lack of progress. All women quickly get lumped into the “stuck up cunts” category, whereas if they had stopped thinking with their dick for 30 seconds they could of seen that the asking was futile as the woman is clearly saying “not interested, not going to happen.”

So for the first time in history, men actually have to woo women. And as it turns out, they tend to not be very good at it. They haven’t had much practice.

Lies we tell ourselves

We all have that voice. That nagging negative voice that never shuts up. That voice that keeps telling you how everyone is judging you, that they don’t like you, that they are thinking poorly of you. It can be so bad that simply walking down the street can be a miserable experience. Because certainly everyone is looking at your stupid outfit, your messed up hair and dirty shoes and thinking about what a dumb ugly loser you are.

Let me clue you in on a little secret my friends. No they aren’t.

That is your ego talking. How big is your ego that you think that people are busy thinking about you? That people are taking time out of their busy lives to even bother having you ever cross their mind? People are not judging your hair, outfit or face when you walk down the street because they never even get around to thinking about you in the first place.

Don’t believe me?

Try getting six inches cut off your hair and changing the color. Not even your best friend or husband notices. Ever had someone bemoan the “huge giant Mt. Everest sized zit” on their face that is ruining their entire day? A zit that with a magnifying glass, perfect vision and a finger helpfully pointing to the exact location you can maybe kinda see if you squint really hard? What you think is blindingly obvious about your personage is not even remotely noticeable to others around you.

People are not judging you because they never get around to thinking about you in the first place. And this realization was one of the most liberating realizations I have ever had in my entire life. I am completely free to be me. I do not have to live my life for others. The freedom and relaxation that I get to wallow in due to this revelation is an incredible feeling and I recommend it highly.

Once you realize that nobody is judging you or thinking about you, that the universe that is “You” never even blips across other people’s consciousness, you learn that the voice in your head is lying to you. That negative nagging voice in your head? It is full of shit. Kick it to the curb. The day I learned that voice was a liar was the day I was reborn. It was like struggling to walk in a heavy soaking wet winter coat that I suddenly realized I could take off and feel sunshine on my flesh. And I have been reveling in the sunshine ever since.

Be you. Be the true you. You are free. Nobody is judging you. Nobody is thinking about you. Go out and be the very best you that you can possibly be while you are on this planet. And tell that stupid lying voice in the back of your brain to suck your dick, it is certainly not doing you any favors.


But nobody reads anymore…

Nobody reads these days they say. Reading is a dying art. Everyone is on the computers, high tech, wired for sound, surfing on that digital highway. Who bothers with READING?!

Well, except for the small fact that all everyone is doing on computers is reading. Computers are words everywhere. You can’t get online and log into a website without being at least moderately literate.

Which is why getting messages riddled with text speak and abbreviations like “hru bb?” drive me right up a wall. There is no excuse. “Baby” is only 4 letters. What are you doing with your time that is so precious that you need to abbreviate it down to “bb?” Are you busy discovering the cure for cancer? Probably not. Add the damn “a” and “y.” Or when (and this has happened to me so many times that I lost count) someone messages you about something that is right on your profile and when you point out that the info is contained on your profile, they respond with “I don’t have *time* to read profiles.”

Um. Do you have ANY idea how someone that can’t be bothered to write to you in full sentences or read your profile comes across as someone that would be absolute crap in bed? If you can’t bother to spell out “How are you?”and just fling a “hru?” in my general direction you are not exactly coming across as someone who cares if I ever end up cumming or not.

Think about it. This is the message you are sending: “I can’t be bothered to read your profile, and I can’t take the time to use real words with you, but I promise I am going to rock your world!!”

I get it. I really do. You have taken the time and crafted out careful emails, thoughtful emails, put effort and energy into it, and you get back nothing. So you develop a severe case of “fuckititis” and just start slinging out the copy pasta. And that is when your chances go down from slim to none. When you put in zero effort in contacting someone, what you are really saying is “I need a body. Any body will do. As long as it is warm. YOU! You will do! How about it bb?” Your serving of copy pasta that you are flinging out to every person in a 100 mile radius? Not getting a lot of responses on it, are you?

You are going to say you are playing the odds. That you can’t be bothered with effort anymore and are just casting a wide net. *Something* will land it in. But think about it. The woman that can be wooed with an email reading “lookn fiiiine lil mama!! Wanna fuk? 3====D ” and is willing to meet up and part legs based on that well crafted Shakespearean sonnet would be so riddled with diseases that I wouldn’t risk touching her with a full body condom on. And I bet your wallet would be missing after she left.

You get out what you put in. And when you are just randomly flinging cold copy pasta at every warm body that comes into your view, you are not putting in very much. Think about it.

But hey, what do I know? Keep doing what works for you. If it is working so well for you, by all means keep it up….

I’m gonna give her a compliment. Bitches love compliments!

Your intentions are good. I get it. Here you are attracted to someone of the female persuasion. What to do about it? The ladies love being told they are hot. Chicks dig that sort of thing, am I right? So you do the logical thing: tell her just how sexy that ass happens to be.

You: “Damn, you are HOT!”

or “I love your eyes” (hair, lips, etc etc)

or “Your tits are the best tits I have ever seen!!”

Bitches love being told how attractive they are. This is a done deal. You sit by your inbox waiting for the responses that are due to come rolling in and you get…nada. Zip. Zilch. What could of gone wrong?

Let me break it down for you. Women get told they are hot on an almost daily basis. It is a useless compliment in the end. You are attracted to the meat envelope I happen to lugging around? Dandy. You like my body. A body that is 100% guaranteed to shift, fade and change. If the contact we have is you being one of many to admire my meat envelope, the honest truth is that it isn’t going to make much of an impression.

So how CAN you pay a compliment to a woman? Why do we make this stuff so HARD? You are just trying to be *nice* here!

As it turns out, even if a woman is posting pictures of their naked body all over the place online for the whole world to see, compliments of how nice her pussy appears to you isn’t going to make as much of an impact as you might think. Oh sure, there are some woman that crave being told how hot their tits are and stockpile up those compliments like Gollum craves that ring, but on the whole even kinky as fuck women are looking for something a little deeper than “nice ass!”

Instead, take the 30 seconds to read a profile. See what she is passionate about. See what excites her. She makes her own accessories? Tell her how good that hat she made looks. She is into animals and does rescue work? Tell her how inspiring you find that. She likes to read? As her what her favorite books are. I guarantee you will get more traction with that than with “daaaammn girl you are HOT!!”

Try it. Try approaching the people you are attracted to as a whole person, not just a series of appealing body parts. I guarantee you will have more success than your current methods…

Best of luck!

Do not blindly put your trust in Community Leaders

It is human nature, really. We love to idolize. We are so quick to hero worship, popping people up on pedestals at the slightest notice. The only thing we like more then elevating people is knocking them right back down.

When you first enter the Lifestyle, you will notice the “leaders” right away. People defer to them, they are seen everywhere, doing all the things, people hang on their every word, words that seem to carry more weight then the average kinkster’s words or thoughts. Look at their high status and how respected they are! Clearly these are people to idolize!

Yeah, I am going to call bullshit on that.

Let me tell you a little story about a “Community Leader” I met in my first few months of entering the Lifestyle.

He had written a book over twenty years ago and was still coasting on that fact. He was seen everywhere, he had opinions, ever so many opinions, that he would gladly share with you at length and in great detail. Here was a “Community Leader” in all it’s splendor.

When he focused on little ol me, I was both honored and humbled. What did this great Community Leader want with me?! He kept invited me out to lunches, ostensibly to lay on me all this great wisdom and knowledge he had at his disposal, but I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t really giving me advice so much as talking about himself. Then he brought up mentoring me. How flattering such a Community Leader wanted to mentor me! What a great honor. Except I had not been looking for a mentor nor asked for one.
I made it to the 3rd lunch with this great leader, lunches he kept arranging and setting up. He seemed very eager to be a part of my life. It was on the third date he said “Well, I have a fetish for intelligence. You are very intelligent, it was how you made it to a third date.”

A date? Say what? He had never mentioned these lunches as being dates, not once. The only reason I had been showing up for them was because of how insistent he was in arranging them. My knuckle whitened on my fork as I sat there looking at a man with a good 30 years on me, a man who knew I was already in a relationship, a man so determined to set up repeated lunches and offer his…um…mentoring to me, and I saw no Community Leader.

I just saw a man. A man like any other. Human. Not special or worthy of some sort of elevation. I got through the lunch as politely as possible and then never spoke to him again.

Are there Community Leaders out there that sacrifice much and ask for little, that put their time and energy on the line, that are great examples to the rest of us? You bet your sweet ass there are. And they deserve our gratitude and appreciation. But just because someone has some higher visibility in our community does not mean their motives are somehow more pure. They are just as fallible as the rest of us. Be careful who you idolize, as idols can fumble…

Keep it kinky my friends,

Presenting “Learn how to lick: Oral Sex 101″ at the SF Citadel

On Tuesday Nov 25th from 8 to 10 pm I am presenting my Oral Sex class “Learn how to lick” at the SF Citadel 181 Eddy St San Francisco CA. $15 in advance, $20 at the door.

Love downstairs action? Are you a fan of oral but want to to increase your skills? Afraid you suck at sucking? This is the class for you! Rain DeGrey, fan of all things oral, proudly presents “Oral Sex 101: Learn how to lick.”

Tips and techniques, covering positions, safer sex and conquering deep-throat, this class has it all. Both male and female oral sex techniques will be covered, and there will be live demos of the concepts covered.
Come prepared to learn in a fun, non-threatening environment.
This is a pansexual class open to all genders and orientations, everyone is welcome!

Rain DeGrey is a writer, educator, rigger and fetish model and has been presenting classes for the past 6 years. She is extremely passionate about the lifestyle and considers education and serving the community an important part of what being “kinky” is all about. Demystifying and encouraging the joys of BDSM is the main motto she lives by and puts into practice daily.


Education at The Citadel

Education at The Citadel