The Bucket List: Wet and Messy

Read time: 10 minutes. Audio available with a subscription on Substack.

I believe that everyone should keep an active, kinky bucket list with a few, fresh, exciting goals to work towards. Throughout my sexual journey, I’ve collected some amazing experiences, ticking off many items from that list along the way. Kinks that once seemed bizarre and salacious are now a regular occurrence for me and over time, I’ve happily replaced them with ever-increasingly uncommon kink goals.

I’ll be honest, in pursuit of my personal bucket list, sometimes I add kinks to my service list simply because I want to try them, not because they are actually in demand. Things like wedgie fetish, ABDL and tickle torture have sat there for months collecting digital dust as people request more popular kinks like bondage and facesitting. I used to lament this process but now I relish (pun intended) every moment of it! I slip on my little patience pants and wait quietly for the freaks to hear my call.

Eventually I always get my day in the sun. Just when I start thinking that I should just remove that kink from my list, a request will quietly make its way through. At first, it blends in with all the other emails and as my eyes quickly scan it, everything looks entirely standard. I peruse the information; length of consult requested, experience level, how the person identifies and lastly, kinky interests. This is when my eyes widen and I double check that I’ve read this correctly. The words Wet and Messy jump out. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

I never let myself get too excited at this stage because a large chunk of the requests I get do not materialize into actual sessions. I quel my initial excitement and scan the request again. It seems legit. WAM is not mixed in with a bunch of other interests, it’s not a box that has been mistakenly checked, this is a true fetishist who is describing their fantasy and genuinely seems interested in making it a reality. I respond and tuck my piqued interest away for the night.

I grab my coffee the next morning and sit down to do my ritualistic, inbox-clearing ceremony at my kitchen table. Standing out like a bucket of neon green slime is the confirmation for the WAM request. As I process it, I realize that this is real. After almost a year of waiting, I might finally get my kinky wish. Again, I quel my excitement because I know that many people simply ghost on the day of their session. Nerves and shame get the best of many people and until I actually see the person walk through my door, I always keep a “we’ll see” attitude. 

The arrangements begin and everything continues to seem legit. No flakey vibes, just straight forward planning and polite communication. As I proceed to prepare the scene on my end, it dawns on me what a huge amount of time and energy this will take to, not only set up, but also to clean up afterwards. I’ve had this feeling of overwhelm many times with more complicated scenes. I don’t shy away from high-prep sessions but I do realize that if this person doesn’t show up on the day of, there is a very real possibility that I will be left standing in my kitchen alone with a giant bucket of homemade green slime and a bunch of pie crusts filled with shaving cream. All dressed up and nowhere to throw.

But hey, no risk, no reward - right? So I keep chugging along, step by step, getting everything ready as if it will all go off without a hitch.

I get the confirmation email and, finally, a text on the day of the session. He’s here, parked and ready whenever I am. The familiar butterflies take flight in my stomach and I run through my set up one last time, mental checklist is complete and I know the rest is out of my hands. I close the bathroom door where my tarps and slime and balloons are all set up.

Like any relationship, subby and Domme vibes are heavily reliant on natural chemistry. There are people who walk through my door and I instantly have a feeling of kinship with them. This little PieFace was one of those people. We instantly start chatting and gushing about the scene we’re about to do. We share a few drinks and it honestly feels like I’m catching up with an old friend. I thoroughly pick his brain about this very specific and fantastical fetish, loading my kink gun with the ammo I’ll need to nail this session.

The meeting of the chatty-cathys eventually segues into the roleplay idea that I came up with. I propose that I am a rich, bratty lady who has been gifted a clown for my birthday. I can do as I please with this guy, his time (and dignity) have been pre-paid for and I can make a total mess of him, if I so choose. PieFace is (shockingly!) down (to clown) and so we begin!

As soon as I present the scene I have prepared, PieFace becomes visibly aroused and I am just beyond delighted. A brand new, empty pool sits atop the queen size mattress that lives on the studio floor. Above is my jungle gym, draped with plastic tarp. I’ve created a little incubator for my little PieFace. Exempt from messiness on the outside, I can easily dole out slimes and watch the sloppiness take full effect.

The thing is, the less I understand a kink, the more fascinated with it I become. It’s like a sexy, ridiculous puzzle to me, like kinky Candy Crush, no matter how many games I win, I want to keep playing, give me another one, make it harder, give me more! 

As a Domme who was taught entirely by subs, I love the process of learning a new person’s kink. Each move I learn is a step closer to me being able to outmaneuver them at their own game. I’ve become quicker and quicker with time and testing out my abilities in a totally unfamiliar kink is always a thrill - the more absurd, the better.

I tell him to strip down and get in the pool. He asks what my slime is made of and as I tell him the recipe he starts playing with himself. This is what I’ve been waiting for! It’s finally real! Not only is this his true, deep, actual fetish but he’s left room for me to play too. There’s no script, no rigid storyline for me to squeeze myself into, just a person jerking off with pudding and shaving cream and little old me, swirling in disbelief that this is my life!

The roleplay continues and this is where the kinky battle is fought. We’re in his fantasy now, I am a guest who must parse out the clues as quickly as possible. I’ve got to hold my own with the tools I’ve got until I pick up on that elusive thread. It’s here somewhere, it always is. I go along with the roleplay, knowing that this will be primarily psychological. I’ve only got so much slime and so many pies, I’ve got to hold my own psychologically in the meantime. I have no idea what I’m doing yet and I fucking love it. 

I do what I think might work, I start poking around at ideas. Throwing out a few key lines and waiting attentively for the response. A coherent, present response is fine for now but what I need to find is The Slump. It’s what I’m really after, the slump of a body that has just been filled with an amazing idea. Not just any idea, a long unspoken one, the one that I found and spoke out loud - sometimes for the first time. The Slump is the green light, and I’m speeding through them, locking each one in like a memory puzzle.

I’ve found the power dynamic here, a familiar thread that delights me. The tension that would generally be pain or gender based, is now mostly sensation based. It would be terrible for a pretty lady like myself to get so messy! Imagine if I accidentally fell into the slime?! Can you imagine? He definitely could! Like many of my sadistic sessions, I stay firmly locked into the cruel joy that I am not the recipient of this session. I genuinely detest being sticky so the sight of this man makes me smile in delight - better you than me is my kinky, life motto!

The pies and buckets of slime become the familiar feeling of a wielded paddle or a cocked fist with the added bonus of being silly and fun. With each pieing, I diligently wash my hands off - no slime for this little Domme-y! I kept pointing out how insanely pristine my outfit was still despite the fact that I could no longer identify the man standing before me. Hell, I could barely tell he was human anymore!

He loved this! I found a crevice, a little nook to exploit, another button to push.

What I love about my role is the fact that the more absurd and misunderstood a kink is to everyone else - the more I truly crave to meet its practitioners. ABDL, ballbusting, wedgies and fart fetishists are examples. These people often hold the most shame and are often confused themselves about their interests. They are like little gems for me to find throughout time. Not to mention, the balance of obscure fetishism with being respectful and open is so hard to find, in my experience, so with each, I truly huff up the experience like a little pervert taking a deep hull off a pair of stinky, used panties!

Okay - back to the session!

As I launched my first ever pie into his face, I felt that familiar, ecstatic feeling. The sadistic feeling of naughtiness I often get from my sessions. Asking him a seemingly sincere question and having him start to answer, only to be interrupted by an abrupt slam of pie to the face! As the shaving cream flies on the tarp covered walls, I watch his body buckle in ecstasy. I am utterly enthralled. 

Buckets and buckets go bye-bye, slopping down onto his head and face, gathering slowly at his feet. I notice that the oatmeal really helps make this slime stick, moving in slow motion down his whole body. Like most of my favourite kinks, just the thought of being in his position makes me shiver, which makes it all the more delightful to witness from the safety of my side line.

He eventually ends up laying in the bottom of the tub in about 6 inches of light green, foamy slop. I guess the weight of the slime has finally taken him down, he is one with the slop now, where he belongs. The green slime has melded thoroughly with the shaving cream from the pies and, I think it’s now very clear to Mr. PieFace, that I won’t be getting messy at all today despite my previous teasing that maybe we could take turns getting pied and slimed. When I tell him this, I make sure to point out how insanely clean I’ve remained this whole time.

Well, apparently, I’ve got the WAM dirty talk down to a T because just as I detailed this, I notice a small stream of white cum burst through the foamy cover, up into the air onto his barely recognizable, foam-covered belly. The sliming, the multiple pies to the face, the reduction of this totally clean, crisp, respectable gentlemen to a sloppy, sticky, unrecognizable mess was quite the experience - for both of us!

What I absolutely loved was the entirely juvenile and fun nature of it. I love that it’s also so insanely far away from what most of us consider sexual. Those kinks are always my favourite. I find it fascinating from afar but it’s utterly transfixing when in person. I think what I liked most though, was that I could use my experiences and skill from other, unrelated kinks in this situation. The commonalities start presenting themself and, with a communicative partner, you can start finding all the buttons. Once you find the buttons, you can start playing them in sequence, getting more and more adept until you understand every combination, every possibility. 

And this ladies and gentlemen is where I find my power, over and over. It’s not some specific set of actions, it’s not a predetermined formula, it’s much better than that. It’s hidden in your brain somewhere and when you invite me in, I immediately start digging. Quickly sorting through the information, chucking out the irrelevant chatter and ideas of misidentified importance, diving for buttons, over and over until I can outmaneuver you at your own mind. I don’t have to make the rules, I don’t even have to know them. A game you’ve created and played by yourself for 20 some years penetrated in just a few hours by my nosey, little brain. 

But, let’s be real, you want me to know all those little weak spots, don’t you? You want me to connect those kinky little dots. I watch and I wait patiently until I find that kinky, little string that connects us all. Those shy little buttons of yours, aching to be pounded and as I slowly start winding that string around my little finger, I make sure to point out that it’s connected to a giant bucket of sticky, green slime, slowly tipping over above your head and as you look up in shock, I give it the gentlest tug.