For the past week, I’ve felt like a coward. There’s been a lot of rumor and allegation going around, and I’ve chosen to stay quiet, afraid of backlash. There are too many things I’m not allowed to say.
I’m not allowed to say that I’m ashamed this is all we can talk about. I’m ashamed that I feel like I can’t say these things. I’m ashamed of the bandwagon.
I’m not allowed to say that I’m impressed by how quickly we’ve reacted, and that some important issues are being talked about, only because I also don’t believe in the court of public opinion.
I’m not allowed to say that I believe in supporting those who have been violated, and of course sex workers can be raped. I believe in speaking out, and that rapists should be punished. But I don’t believe in defamation.
I’m not allowed to say that sometimes women make shit up, as much as it kills my feminist heart.
I’m not allowed to say that I know this isn’t the first time she’s cried rape.
I’m not allowed to say that my heart is breaking for James Deen.
I’m not allowed to say that I know his breakup with Stoya was tumultuous to say the least, and he is taking the high road staying silent. But I also know the fight isn’t fair, and I will support him if it gets ugly.
I’m not allowed to say that I’ve seen a video, directed by Stoya, shot a month after they broke up, in which she breaks character, says, “stop,” and he immediately stops.
I’m not allowed to say that ostracizing every male performer who’s crossed the line with a female performer would lead to a business with no male talent. I’ve lost track of my own stories.
I’m not allowed to say that James, however, has only ever treated me with the utmost respect. He is one of the few people I still trust to top me for a rough scene, and I’m very picky now.
I’m not allowed to say that I will continue to work with him, continue to request him, continue to be excited when I hear he’s my scene partner.
I’m not allowed to say that, sure, James has done some fucked up shit. Quite a few directors have let him, even encouraged him, to be extra rough. And I know his proclivities in private life. But just because someone slaps someone, or scares them, doesn’t make them a rapist. He has a dark side, but he’s not this monster.
I’m not allowed to say that James Deen is my friend.
I’m not allowed to say that I’m not allowed to say these things.
I selfishly just want this all to go away, but it doesn’t seem like that’s happening anytime soon. I guess it doesn’t matter. I can’t say anything.
Except I just did.
For further reading, I suggest: http://therealpornwikileaks.com/industry-vet-gives-his-thoughts-on-james-deen-as-well-as-deens-accusers-updated/ and http://www.theguardian.com/culture/2015/dec/04/how-stoya-took-on-james-deen-and-broke-the-porn-industrys-silence
Dec 5th, 2:04pm EDIT: re: statement about male performers crossing the line: When I’m on set, it’s my responsibility to speak up if I am not comfortable. If I choose not to, that’s on me. Porn is a full contact sport. And yes, sometimes guys get carried away. That makes them shitty people, not abusers or rapists. There is a difference.
More than anything else, I get asked about dating — how I date, who I date, etc. This one came from Adult DVD Talk.
I would be very interested in how far you would go on a first date with a person you have a great chemistry from the beginning on. I mean which kind of sexual passions, fetishes, whatever you wanna call it would you share with this person if mentioned or is this something you prefer to discover during the sex? Or do you for instance wait until the sex with somebody who is obviously not informed yet about your love for anal and let him that find out or is it a must for you to tell him that beforehand?
I guess, maybe, in the real world, I’m weird. But I grew up in the fetish community, and I approach dating from that perspective.
If I meet you at a bar, or really, anywhere outside of a kink event, I will flirt with you, yes. But I will never go out on a date with you, and I will never sleep with you. Why? My number one most important thing in a relationship is sexual compatibility, and I’m never going to find that in the real world. Does that make me cynical? Sure. Does that mean I’m saying there is no possibility for kinky people to connect in the real world? No.
I’m a conoissuer, a snob. I’m very picky. I’ve played with the best people in the world, and I no longer have patience for a relationship with someone who isn’t of that caliber.
But, let’s say I am on a first date with someone from the community, and we have great chemistry. Before we even get naked, we have discussed every single sexual thing we might do, in depth. We have talked about likes, dislikes, hard limits. Talked about boundaries and defined our relationship. And the first time we play, there will almost certainly be no fluid exchange. That requires an entirely separate negotiation, one that is complicated by my job, and I’m not gonna go through all that with someone I just met.
Yes, it’s not sexy, and yes, it’s not spontaneous. And yes, if I’m going to have sex with someone, they know beforehand that I enjoy anal. But that doesn’t mean they are ever gonna stick it in my butt.
I’m Casey Calvert, boner killer. But negotiation turns ME on.
Hi Casey, I’m curious to know if your fans would ever get the chance to meet you. Would you ever run a contest where the prize was to meet you in person?
That would be a pretty shitty contest. Meeting me isn’t a prize.
But it’s not you, baby, it’s me. Well, it’s also kinda you. But explaining it is just gonna make both of us feel bad, so…
Gustave Flaubert in Madame Bovary said it best: “Never touch your idol; the gilding will stick to your fingers.”
As a rebuttal to “filthy,” When did you stop caring about what other people thought of your sexuality, and started to love yourself unashamedly?
I will cop to the fact that my answer to “filthy” was a bit snarky. Ok, a lot snarky.
Snarky is fun.
But this question, this one is actually really important. The way I love myself now is something that I’ve very proud of, because it was such a struggle for me to get here. The short answer to your question is somewhere around 21.5 years old.
The long answer, well, the long answer you can find in my essay in Coming Out Like a Porn Star: Essays on Pornography, Protection, and Privacy which you can preorder here. I think it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever written and I cannot fucking wait for the book to come out.
A Tumblr question, posed by an anonymous grey sunglass-wearing face: When did you stop studying and planning a useful career and start being a slut, being a sexual object and earning money the easy and filthy way?
Well, I started being a slut long before I started planning my career. I started being a sexual object about three quarters of the way through my studies. And I started earning money after I graduated, just like most people do. I will admit it’s easier. Less barrier to entry.
But really, is porn money filthier than mainstream film money?
I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, just, you know.
Listen, I know you published this article almost a year ago, but I just saw it for the first time the other day. It’s only because you tweeted it at me. Now, I appreciate the congrats for my XRCO award, I really do. I also appreciate you doing a feature on me.
But really, I don’t appreciate being made to sound like a stupid whore. I understand your readers might prefer that type of fare, but I prefer to be a little bit more real.
(Your words in bold. My words in straight font.)
From Science Geek to Bondage Freak
Casey Calvert has always been a bad girl. Now she’s finally being punished – and she couldn’t be happier.
Actually, I’ve always been a good girl. You could even say the good girl. I think I still am, except when it comes to sex. But I’ll give you props for a cute title.
If you’re fortunate to be on a date with the lovely Casey Calvert, be forewarned: The lady is not a particularly a good kisser. Although she’s tried smooching many times over the years, she’s never been aroused by it.
At the time of printing, this was true. At the time of now, I’ve changed my mind.
It just doesn’t feel romantic. What Casey prefers on a date is to be tied up, hands and feet bound tightly behind her like a farm animal about to be branded. Then she likes a butt plug stuck in her ass. Then she likes to be whipped. Hard. With a bare hand, paddle or leather belt.
1. No bondage on a first date. Not unless they’ve been seriously vetted.
2. I actually don’t really like butt plugs, and I HATE having anything in my ass while being spanked.
3. Yes, I enjoy being whipped. With a whip. I also enjoy being spanked with a hand, paddled with a paddle, and slapped with a leather belt. Verbs, people.
Now that’s romantic.
Bondage. S&M. Domination. Humiliation. Sexual practices that all involve restraints, ropes and ball gags in conjunction with inflicting or receiving pain as part of the experience.
I’ll leave this alone, except for saying that anyone who actually understands BDSM will know why this is so wrong.
Pushing the sexual envelope is a turn-on to a lot of folks, but to Casey it’s much more. For her it’s a lifestyle choice that’s preserved her emotional health. Getting hurt is what’s made her happy.
This is true. But god, if only it was that simple.
So how does a middle-class college coed choose to become a top XXX professional purveyor of sadomasochism?
“When I was 4 years old, I started to realize I was different,” Casey explains as I accompany her to a Southern California wilderness preserve
AKA Stoney Point
for her morning rock-climbing ritual. (It keeps her limber.)
I would kill to be able to climb every morning. That would be amazing. Instead, I have a job. Also, “it keeps [me] limber?” How about, “She was a nationally ranked competitive rock climber?”
“I wanted to be tied up. Hurt. That feeling became stronger as I got older, even though I knew it was wrong. I was always thinking bad thoughts. I wanted my parents or baby-sitters to punish me.”
Yes, I probably said something close enough to this (minus the parents part, cause that’s weird) that it’s passable being in quotes even though it technically shouldn’t be. But I know I followed it up with the caveat of, “I didn’t really want them to punish me. It was all fantasy.”
But nobody did “punish” little Casey, and she kept her deep, dark desires bottled up inside her, growing up a moody child in South Florida with few friends.
1. Pretty sure not a single person, including myself, would describe me as “moody.”
2. North Florida
Her only comfort was school;
she loved, in her words, the “dependability” of science and math. Then, as fate would have it, an incident happened to Casey at the age of 12 that changed her life: A classmate showed her some gay porn on the Internet.
“It was bondage porn,” she recalls with a fond smile.
“It was not bondage porn,” she recalls with an irritated smile. “It was very vanilla, very soft, gay porn.”
“I was stunned. I thought to myself, There are actually people out there like me. Maybe I am not so weird after all.”
For several months Casey explored the various BDSM sites on the family computer,
Or the one in my room…
learning about potential outlets for her secret dirty thoughts.
That “I was stunned…” quote? That should go here. After I started looking at spanking sites. I really wasn’t into BDSM then. I was 100% spanko.
That’s when she got the idea of becoming a star in adult movies; it was the only profession, she reasoned, where she could get paid to be herself.
This is the only phrase in here that I actually like. At the time, the thought was more “the only safe way I can ever do this is by doing porn,” but, like I said, getting paid to be myself sounds nice.
adolescent had discovered a life plan that seemed to make sense.
And then everything went to hell. Her parents found out about her adult Web-cruising and freaked out. They took away Casey’s computer, scared the shit out of her by pointing out to her that she was breaking the law by viewing porn as a minor and dragged her ass (regrettably to her, still unbruised) to a shrink.
1. They didn’t take away my computer. I was just too ashamed to continue surfing.
2. I was told simply “porn is illegal”
3. It super squicks me out to think about my parents bruising my ass. That’s a sex thing for me. Saying this is no different than saying, “regrettably to her, still unfucked by her dad.” Sorry.
“I was made to think there was something wrong with me,” she says, shaking her head. “So I tried to ignore who I really was. I’d listen to my friends in school talk about their crushes on boys and try not to think about my fantasies about my teachers tying me up and punishing me.”
Oh no, I thought about those fantasies. Every. Single. Night.
Repressed and confused, Casey waited until college before she experimented with boys herself. “I did some heavy petting” she confesses.“It was out of curiosity and boredom. I got nothing out of it. It made me feel more alone than ever.”
What I am curious about is WTF is heavy petting? What I wasn’t curious about was boys. I knew I wasn’t interested. I also certainly wasn’t bored, and I take actual offense at the thought that I would experiment with sexual behavior out of boredom. That is SO not me.
Also, I did get something out of the one kiss I had that fits here on the timeline of this story. I got mono.
Then fate intervened again when Casey took a first amendment class at the University of Florida. There she learned for the second time
in her life that porn was not only acceptable; it was also an unalienable right – freedom of the press, protected under the Constitution. She went back online and never looked back.
“I finished the class just before my 21st birthday,” she explains with a smile. “It taught me that I had a choice. I could go out and get drunk like any other coed, or I could do something that was meaningful to me. I decided to give myself a meaningful present.”
After some online research, Casey gave herself a professional spanking for her 21st birthday – and loved it. “The experience validated everything I felt was different about myself. My need to be punished, my desires for punishment to stimulate me sexually, my dream of being an adult star to act out my fantasies, my whole life finally made sense to me.”
That quote is kinda, sorta, not really at all it. But thanks for the oversimplification. I’ll use that any time I want to tell a complete bs version of this story.
Casey quit college (she was a chemistry major headed to med school)
The diploma hanging on my wall right now, the one with the shiny gold magna cum laude seal? Yeah, it begs to differ. Also, film major. I did take a bunch of chemistry classes, I did do the pre-med track as well as minor in anthropology and zoology, and I do understand why chemistry major sounds better for your article… But is this necessary? Come on now.
and got a job as a porn performer, with an emphasis on bondage roles.
You left out the whole “started fetish modeling as a junior, didn’t start doing porn until months after graduation,” part, but whatev.
Sex became fun, and Casey became more relaxed as a person. She started developing more friendships and, most importantly, started walking around with a smile on her face. Her parents, both middle-class college professors,
Again, confused about why the lie is necessary.
wanted to disapprove of her new career, but they just couldn’t bring themselves to do it. Their daughter, who had forever seemed troubled,
suddenly seemed so damned happy.
After her climb, I offhandedly mention that Casey looked like a giant, graceful spider scurrying across the rocks. She grins mischievously and asks if I’d like to accompany her back to her apartment so I can observe how limber and athletic she truly is.
God, that sounds like a bad pickup line. I always use bad pickup lines on interviewers.
It turns out she’s getting ready to star in a series of adult bondage films, a remake of the Story of O,
And again, apparently we really don’t care about getting actual hard facts right. It was a 50 Shades of Grey story, the Bound by Desire trilogy from Smash Pictures.
and regularly practices with a professional bondage artist to make sure her body’s ready for the role. Luckily for me, today’s a rope-rehearsal day.
We head back to Casey’s apartment, and I meet Ms. Nikki Nefarious, who – according to her business card – is also a bondage educator. For a fee, Nikki will “teach you the dos and don’ts of tying up your loved one”—before you smack them around, of course.
I wish you could just let rope be rope for rope’s sake. Yes, some people like to combine bondage and impact play. Some people don’t.
I watch Nikki efficiently tie Casey up with heavy rope
AKA 8mm white nylon
worthy of mooring a sailboat, twisting Casey’s body into pretzel-like contortions. Casey seems unfazed.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“Just fine,” Casey replies, as casual as if she were getting her nails done.
Actually, I was much more fine then than I ever am getting my nails done. I hate that shit.
Nikki pulls the ropes tighter and takes out a whip. She begins lashing Casey across the buttocks.
I think it was a paddle or maybe a crop. Certainly not a whip. Not in that tiny little apartment. No way. She would have broken my TV.
“How about now?” I inquire, although I’m already sure of her response.
“Oh, I’m great” Casey grins as she turns back to Nikki. “You can hit me much harder than that.”
When Casey is done with her “rehearsal,” I ask her where she imagines herself in ten years. The lady doesn’t hesitate with her reply. Now that she’s happy, her future seems clear.
“I still love science,” she tells me. “When I’m too old to do porn, I’m thinking I might go to med school.”
At the time of printing, this was true. At the time of now, I’ve changed my mind.
“But what about bondage?” I inquire. “It’s such an important part of your life.”
Yes, because doctors just can’t also be into BDSM. That’s impossible!
“Oh, that’ll never change,” Casey says. “If I get married, become a mom, a doctor, whatever, bondage and S&M will always be part of who I am. After all, I want to stay happy.”
I practice BDSM because it’s a part of who I am, and being true to myself makes me happy.So, kinda what you said. Kinda.
I love you Hustler, I really do. You’ve published some fantastic photosets of me (and an awesome interview) in Taboo.
And I’m not mad at you. I’m entertained, greatly, by what you think you need to publish to get people to read your magazine. I laughed out loud the first time I read this, and every subsequent time after that. It’s funny.
I’m just not cool with biographical fiction. I hope you don’t mind the couple of clarifications I made.
P.S. Thanks to Doug for transcribing this article for me, since Hustler has it up as a jpeg and I couldn’t copy and paste. You’re the best, Doug!
P.P.S. Dear reader, want to hear this story in my own words? Check out Coming Out Like a Porn Star an anthology from Jiz Lee, coming later this year.
P.P.P.S. The Hustler article originally posted here.
The other day, I got an email about a custom video with the subject line, “nothing too weird for you?” It turns out it’s not too weird for me at all, and it’ll be a fun video to make. It got me thinking.
I don’t just do the weird stuff. I like to do the weird stuff.
Here’s the thing: Although I don’t have a fetish myself, I understand it. I spent a very long time uncomfortable and unwilling to share my unusual sexuality with others, and I admire people who are out about their fetish. I feel, for lack of a better way to say it, proud of them.
Tangent: There is difference between a fetish and a kink, and it’s a huge pet peeve of mine when people misuse the words. A kink is something outside of the norm that turns you on. You have a fetish when you absolutely can’t get aroused unless the subject of your fetish is present.
Sex is such an important human function, whether society wants to admit it or not. And when your sexuality is different than what society deems acceptable, it can be crippling. My sexuality used to be my biggest secret. It used to be a weight I carried around with me. And mine’s not even, insert air quotes here, that bad.
So… I love making fetish videos, especially custom fetish videos. I admire the balls it takes to write to me about something that I might write back and say, “what the fuck? You are crazy!”
People with a fetish know what they want, and I love giving it to them. I figure, having a fetish makes things complicated enough, the least I can do is make them an awesome video. I know it’s going to be appreciated. It’s not pity, it’s appreciation and curiosity. I love learning about what turns someone on, and why. After all, it’s true what they say about psychologists – they study what they wish to understand in themselves.
And now, Captain Hammer… (click to play)
aka TRPAMAQOTANIAI One
When I set up my Tumblr (which you can find here), I added one of those “ask me anything” buttons, out of sheer curiosity. Mostly I’ve gotten stupidity, but it’s the internet, so what can you really expect? But I’ve also gotten a few interesting questions. So, from now on, everything month, I’m going to answer one of the good ones. So, send them in via the button on Tumblr. Here is the first:
“I have a friend that has been a stripper for three years. She is burned out to a point where she just can’t handle another hard cock around her and has had more hands on her than she should in three slutty lifetimes. She finds that her sex drive is zero, level of interest is below zero and worries that long term trauma has been done while making a little money. Do you feel that any of these issues are pending for you? Have you heard similar and does it concern you?”
There is a difference between being a stripper and being a porn star. As a stripper, you have to play the game to get paid. You have to flirt, and be seductive, and interact directly with those lusting after you. If you don’t, you don’t get paid. As a porn star, yes you have to play the game with the fans, but it doesn’t impact your paycheck. A girl who ignores her fans on twitter may not receive many gifts from her wishlist in the mail, but companies are still going to hire her for shoots. She will still get paid.
And playing the game is exhausting. Some girls are excellent at it; I am not one of them. It’s the kind of thing that just wears me down. It’s why I can’t fathom myself as a stripper or a hooker.
Also, when it comes right down to it, I don’t really have very many hard cocks around me. When I go to work, it is an average of one, maybe two cocks, vying for my attention. And, for the most part, they are very professional cocks, who only want my attention when the camera is rolling. It’s not like a strip club, where every man in there has a boner, and the girl has to pay attention to all of them, all the time.
I do have to admit that this was a concern of mine before getting in to porn – that I would start to hate sex. But it no longer concerns me.
I have a bit of a skewed point of view on intimacy, I think. The act of putting a penis in a vagina (or a mouth or a butthole) by itself doesn’t mean anything emotionally to me. There are so many things that two people can do that are way more intimate than just having sex.
And a lot of the things that I find more intimate are the things that I don’t have do at work, the things that strippers and hookers have to do to keep their clients.
That’s why I’m not afraid of porn causing me to start hating sex. Because, sure, after a long week of working, I don’t want to have a dick inside me. But there are other things I still want to do, other things I still crave. It’s those other things that are important to me.
Those other things are my sex drive. Porn can’t take them away.
Today is March 17th. It is my 24th birthday. It is also the third anniversary of the day my life changed.
When I was turning 21, I knew I wanted to do something special. I didn’t just want to go out and get trashed with my friends. I wanted to get myself a gift, and I wanted to get myself the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the entire world. So I did.
I got myself a spanking.
I’ve had a spanking fetish my entire life. I fantasized about it before I even knew what the act was called. And once I did learn the word, looking it up in the dictionary was as titillating for me as watching porn was for my friends. And once I did start watching porn, spanking videos were the first thing I looked up.
I never got spanked as a child, and I honestly thought all I needed was one spanking and it would be out of my system, and I could go back to being a shy, celibate, nerdy student who was afraid of the world. Boy, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
On March 17th, 2011, I spent a few hours in the back of a truck parked at a rest stop off of I-75. I arrived as one girl, and I left as another.
I’ve gone from a scared little girl to a confident one. I’ve gone from someone who was afraid of sex to someone who is an AVN nominated pornstar.
Three years ago, I never could have imagined where I am today. I couldn’t even have come up with the idea of some of the things I’ve done.
I’ve been tied up at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. I’ve been gangbanged, twice. I’ve been fisted, one in my pussy, and too many times to count in my ass. I’ve had my naked picture, and some clothed ones too, published in countless magazines. I’ve had sex with over 100 different men.
I’ve met real friends, not just the friends of convenience I had during school. I’ve met friends I’ll have forever. And I’ve loved. I’ve lost loves, and hurt loves, and experienced love more deeply than I ever thought was possible.
There’s so much more to do.
Three years ago today, I started living my life. And I’m not ever going to stop.