Sponsor a Bondage Dream!

First a few notes about The Pound (that's what I'm calling my new cage). It arrived a few weeks ago. To be honest, when I first knew I was getting it (it was a surprise gift), I was a little skeptical. "What am I going to do with a puppy cage?! And where am I going to put it!?!?" I thought. Then it arrived and ...wow. Those of you who've visited since its arrival have probably been quite surprised at all the uses I've found for it. When my friend Mistress Yin saw the picture on my blog, she talked about what a difference a REAL cage does to the bottom's headspace. "It's a whole different mindfuck when they know they can't get out," she said.

OMG was she right. Talk about taking the starch out of a man. Whether you're locked in as tease. Or punishment. Or storage. Or just because that's where I want ya, dammit. The Pound is irrefutable. And SO HOT. I've stuffed a blindfolded man inside and let him think he'd been left alone. I've had 'em in there totally unfettered to just watch and wait. I've sat on the top bars and let loose a torrent of piss, only to make him soak in it until I was ready to release him.

And that's just when you're inside.

Outside, I've found it's an ideal whipping bench. He's bent over the curved top, hands cuffed and locked into place. So much prime real estate for my whip. Were I into strapon, I could totally see pounding away at him, whether he were face up or face down on that top (another reason for "The Pound").

It's just an awesome piece of gear. So much so that after receiving it, I contacted Metalbound and inquired about having more furniture built for Salon d'Orleans. Replacing my bondage bed/cage topped my wishlist, especially since now that I'd seen what a real cage could do to a man, the wooden sleeping cage I've got now is a joke.

With Corey's help (he's the owner, designer and fabricator at Metalbound), I came up with a slightly lower, aluminum-framed piece that opens from the side so to make it easier to get a fella in and out, particularly when a bodybag is involved. Once finished, the upholstered and Tempurpedic-padded surface will have a back support that can be lifted and lowered, not only for diversity in positions, but to also help the bottom stay in bondage longer. Bondage points along the upper and lower perimeters will make sure that I can employ my whole arsenal of bondage straps, belts, ropes, and other tie-downs to make sure no one's going anywhere.

I also asked Corey to build me a suspendable metal "backboard," much like the kind used to tote fallen skiiers down the slopes. Only 17" wide, this piece will allow me to do super tight, suspended mummifications. I'm so psyched.

The last item on my wish list was a bondage chair. Initially, my instructions were fairly basic and the result was something quite elegant and graceful, but definitely not something that was going to meet my needs. As I started explaining to Corey what I needed this chair to do, I realized that this could be just a valuable a piece of equipment as the bondage bed and The Pound.

The next take nearly got it: Lots of places to tether bondage, a tall back that would facilitate head bondage. Optional rods that would run underneath what would be the upholstered seat with a convenient, removable cutout so that the balls could drop and be tethered, if desired. A few bondage points on the chair bottom to keep the legs still. As soon as I got a good look at it though, I started to see where what was there just wasn't going to be enough. I called Corey again. I told him that I wanted hinged arms that can be locked into place or moved out of the way. And that I wanted MORE tie down points. Everywhere. On the back of the chair, its sides, undersides ... there can just never be too many bondage points. A few colleagues I showed the pictures to also suggested I request a padded backpad to protect the bare spine from the unforgiving rods. Last, I asked for a detachable stockade of sorts to be added to the chair.

I can't begin to tell you how excited I am about these new additions. I'm already fantasizing about the different kinds of scenes I want to do with them It's going to be awesome!!!!

The unfortunate thing is, though, is that the stuff ain't cheap and my kink got a little bigger than my wallet on this occasion. Consequently, if you're as excited about playing with this new stuff as I am and would like to contribute to the Furniture Fund, I'm currently offering an extra hour of play for every donation over $100. If you'd like information on how to donate, please send me an email and I'll be happy to give you the details. If you'd like to send something anonymously, you can do so via postal mail to: Troy Orleans, 2753 Broadway $103, New York, NY 10025. Paypal, checks and money orders are all accepted. With any luck, the furniture will be ready for delivery at the end of this month. Please help me turn this fantasy into an amazing reality! Thanks in advance.

A Definition

"It seems to me that S&M is about two things: being brave enough to play with power and realize it's moveable and malleable, and also the deire to be overwhelmed and to be overwhelming. Which is no different than any other kind of sex if it's any good."

-Maggie Gyllenhaal, 2002 as quoted in "Nerve: The First Ten Years"

Diversification

I'm looking at the tabs on my Firefox browser. Since it made me smile, I thought I'd share.

Gmail. Google Calendar. Serious Bondage.com/Fetters Inversion Rack. Eater. Serious Eats. Facebook. The Hang at Max Fisch. Gawker. Unspeakable Axe. Fleur De Sel. Malcolm Gladwell.

Extreme Constraints

Part of the reason I've loved Extreme Restraints over the years is that I've been able to find good deals on products that seem to cost much more elsewhere. It's one thing, though, to get a deal on some lube or other commercial item and quite another when the low prices are the result of ripping off an artisan's work and having it cheaply mass produced elsewhere.

Seems that's what XR's been doing lately. I do not approve.

Operation: Field Trips ... UPDATE!!!

My sister just wrote me a thank you note that she asked I pass on to all of you who contributed to "OPERATION: FIELD TRIP." You have no idea how happy it made this big sister to hear her little sister's excited voice talk about her plans for her students. Thanks to all of you who contributed. Those who still wish to donate may do so by sending cash, check, or money order to:

Operation: Field Trip
P.O. Box 93973
Atlanta, GA 30377

If you're writing a check or money order, make it payable to: "CIE" and in the memo put "CC Field Trip Fund." I suggest cash be sent with a delivery confirmation.

I cannot begin to tell you how (let me take it back 80’s style) “totally awesome” this year is going to be. After putting into place the concept of "Project: Outdoor Classroom," I thought all summer about ways to best put your donations to use. I came up with a socially conscious theme of caring outside of our own understanding. As a class this year we are going to pen pal with students at the International Community School here in our state. This charter school has been established for the past ten years and its mission is to bring together refugee, immigrant, and native-born children to nurture them in an academic setting. The school brings out their gifts and talents and assists in the healing of the deep physical and spiritual wounds of war. This joining of forces will help bridge the gap between two worlds, promote world knowledge, and create life long friendships.

Our other fieldtrip plans for the year include journeys to the CNN Center, The Fernbank Museum of Nature and Science, the Center for Puppetry Arts, and the Fabulous Fox Theater to see The Alvin Ailey Dance Theatre of Harlem. The end of the year trip has me fired up! I have been fortunate enough to see Alvin Ailey every year for the past 23 years. Of my most recent tours, I can remember wishing that my students had the opportunity to see the talented troupe. With tickets, starting at $17.00 per person that hope was unquestionably out of reach. With the state of Georgia on the cusp of canceling all non-athletic related field trips due to budget cuts, the idea of taking my students to see a dance ensemble is not high on the priority list for the school board. With private funding, I am able to expose my students to the arts, the world, and education all while having a blast!

Your donations are benefiting my students in a way that I could never imagine. The county limits each grade level to two field trips per year, this year, and none next year. With your help, I will be able to take my students on a trip every month. As of right now, the final trip will require that the students pay a portion of their ticket price to Fox Theatre. I am incredibly thankful for all of the scholarships you have provided. My students are in for the year of their lives, and I have you to thank. I will make sure to send pictures and journal entries to keep you posted. On behalf of my students, I want to say thanks for the opportunity to see the world through a new lens.

Yours Truly,
The Open Air Classroom

Sidebar Updates Explained!

While I was traveling, I kept having these little observations or ideas that weren't substantive enough for postcards or blog posts but weren't things I wanted to go unacknowledged, either. (e.g. Rome is covered in graffitti. My favorite tag? "ZEU$")

Consequently, I've decided to join Twitter. You should see my "Tweets" over there to the left. I'm not 100% sure about this little application -- from how it works to how much I'll use it -- but I'm going to try it for a while and I encourage you to follow me. For a NYTimesian perspective on Twitter and "ambient awareness" click here. (I was particularly swayed by the line, "Follow [someone's Twitter posts] for a day, though, and it begins to feel like a short story; follow it for a month, and it’s a novel.")

We'll see. Let me know what you think about Twittering, too.

******

I finally got a resy at Ko, thanks to The Headliner's gracious, geeky tenacity. I went with a dear, long time friend who eats and drinks professionally. Our dinner was delicious, though more memorable for the road getting there than for what was served. Or maybe it'd just been too long since I'd seen my friend. While I certainly would go again if given the opportunity or as part of an OE, my free session offer is no longer available.

And, Headliner? I owe you. Big time. Just name it.

******

One of the things my vacation made me realize is that ... well, I needed one! In an effort to manage my schedule better, rather than close the door to all new clients, I've decided to implement some additional qualifiers. First, I am not seeing any novices. You must have some professional BDSM experience in order to receive an appointment. While I do get a distinct pleasure out of molding a newbie, I'll be having my fun redefining what a session is for the veteran players for a while. Secondly, for those who have experience whom I have not seen before, you will need to provide me references before I agree to give you an appointment. If you've seen any of my known associates (anyone I've mentioned or linked here or on my website), just her name will do. Otherwise, I want two verifiable contacts so I can find out for sure if you're as promising as your thoughtful, engaging, and responsive introductory email would lead me to believe.

Rome Antics

While I didn't get up to much kinky while I was away, I did pick up a fair bit of leather, including a gorgeous butterscotch leather jacket, a belted, black vest, and a really cool pair of black leather gloves that fit snugly to the hand and wrist, only to puff all the way to the elbow.

Funny thing, gloves. I love the idea of them and I have several pair, including custom made La Crasias of the thinnest, softest leather that come up nearly to my elbows and have that fetishizable, three button closure at the wrist. I have "past the elbow" gauntlets that sleeve my arm quite sexily. Two or three pairs of lined, wrist length leather gloves for winter. And a gorgeous, cheek-soft, Italian pair I got in Venice last year whose wrists fold back to reveal a red, red leather contrast lining.

I love wearing gloves to keep my hands warm, but wearing leather gloves in session is a little counterintuitive. It's like sense deprivation for me. Touch is such a part of my play that covering up my hands removes, like, 30% of my sensory input. Maybe more. And all the gloves I have are seamed on the inside, so my fingers feel thick and dull when I wear them. If I ever was to offer some sort of paraphilia session, though, I think it'd be for the gloves. Heck, I derailed my own blog post to talk about them!

Where was I? Oh, yes. Rome. Prego.

So I didn't get up to much kinky. Mostly I ate. "When in Rome" and all meant I was doing the multi-course primi piatti e secondi piatti at every meal. I'd gotten recommendations from my food friends and done a lot of Internet research on where to go. At Maccheroni, my first night in Roma, I sat in the "kitchen room" with a prime view of the cooks (I have a chef fetish, of all things. I do.) as well as a glimpse of the tables full of animated Italians on the cobblestoned street outside. My hunky, handsome waiter asks, "Where are you from?" "New York," I tell him. "Oh, I am going to LOVE you!" he promised, his tongue unfurling dramatically over Love.

Tucking into my carbonara and carpaccio, I fantasized about pinning his shoulders under my knees and ...

At the end of the meal, I told him I wanted just a taste of something sweet. He brought a shot glass brimming with lemon sorbetto and a card with his contact info on it. "Lovely Pirate" it said.

Dining alone's not always a bad thing.

Notes from Spain, Rome, etc.

I went back to Spain and Italy, though a new city for me in both countries. First, Madrid. Then Barcelona. And finishing up my travels in Rome and Florence. Some notes.

In Barcelona, I saw a man with a bandaged stump at the end of his arm. It reminded me of a very nice patio drink with a client. As we nibbled on appetizers and sipped our beverages, I casually took his right hand and wrapped it over and over in a self-stick ace bandage. Public bondage. It was fun watching him fumble with his non dominant hand.

Did I mention I love Barcelona?

In Madrid, I was surprised by how little English or other languages I heard on the street. That was not the case in Rome or Barcelona.

Seems the primary purpose of the various piazzas and, most especially the Villa Borghese park, in Rome is to provide a place for teenagers to make out.

I would like Rome more if I liked gelato.

And Miss Victoria X was kind enough to point out that someone has stolen my hat.

I go to Florence tomorrow. It has been a nice vacation. Exhausting in its tourism, but nice. Looking forward to autumn in New York when I return. Miss y'all.

NIN of the Above

Talk about Domme cred. My friend The Headliner invited me to the Nine Inch Nails concert Wednesday night (Aug 27) at the Izod Center (uh, the Meadowlands Arena). Me in my leather tank top, Armani jacket, pencil skirt, and sky high shoes. Early to arrive, we scored a prime spot near the front of the stage, next to the mosh pit.

I love standing among the front row faithfuls, who mouth every word, every chord on their air guitar. Last time I was in this same arena it was for opening night of Springsteen's reunion tour with the E Street Band (1998? 99?) and I was overwhelmed, frightened even, by the torrent of raised white fists pumping Born! in the! US!A! Ten years later and I'm getting hit with the sweat from these these thrashing, snarling, muscle boys, bouncing their bodies off each other like repelling magnets and I'm not a bit afraid. In fact, I'm desperate to crash into them, feel that punch and ache and sweat and hold my own among the big dogs ... then I look down at my open toes.

In these shoes? I don't think so.

Proof I haven't been a dominatrix all my life? Years ago I stood next to Trent during a Mardi Gras parade and hollered for beads from the passing floats. Nine Inch Nails. Rockstar god. Uh huh. I know. But also short, pale, thin, and obviously shy. Whatever, dude. Excuse me.

"Hey! Throw me something, mister!!!"

At the concert though, I drank the Smirnoff Ice and became a believer. On stage he was none of those things I saw on that St. Charles Ave. balcony. He's buff, gorgeously lit, and clearly knows his angles. Swoon, I did.

Listening to the verses swirling around me, echoed by the crowd, I fantasized about being the kind of dominant Trent is singing about. Or to. Even the kind of Domme that has a session playlist full of NIN. I imagined myself the cold, strict bitch to whom he'd scream, "I'd rather die than give you control!" and then I'd take it from him anyway, fuck him like an animal. He'd find happiness in slavery to me.

Etc.

But, you know, I'm not that bitch. God knows I wanna be sometimes. Every time a client I adore tells me some fantasy he has about being at the mercy of a cruel, capricious woman, I wanna be that for him. Be that for ME, even. A few of the dominas I admire most are of that classic "dominatrix" style. They've got that steel allure. Mystery. They're calculating and sadistic. Yet their play is still connected and genuine and intense. I admire and envy that.

I can be strict, cold, and harsh: don't get me wrong. But when I am those things, it's not a role. I'm not playing. It means I've been pushed to a bitter, defensive place that just feels ugly to me. It's not what play or dominance means to me at all. When I'm in that punitive space, I am all too aware that my grip on my self-control is slipping. That once I start, I cannot stop myself.

When I first started domming, I struggled with what I thought a dominatrix should be like, how I thought I was expected to behave and the kind of dominant I actually was. I was the one who'd flinch and gasp sympathetically when I wrapped the flogger or caught his scrotal skin in the zipper. I was the kind that found the proud horns and drums of Nina Simone's "Feeling Good" more inspirational in session than the boom and clash of NIN's "Discipline."

Everytime I felt the push from a client or a more popular Domme in my House to be something else, I'd try it on. Soon, I felt pinch in the waist, the tightness in the sleeves of someone else's clothes. After a while, I realized I can't walk in anyone's shoes but my own.

But, uh, yeah, Trent? You like Nina Simone, too, don't you?

Call me.

Because I'm the Dominant, That's Why!

I often find myself challenging a lot of what's considered "dominant" behavior. I rarely kit up in fetish clothes (ironically, most of that 'trixy gear is so demanding to wear, I end up feeling like I'm submitting to it). I'll sit on the floor at his feet while I tell him all the tortureful things I'm going to do to him. I'll get on my knees while I'm whipping him or, even better, tying up his cock and balls (I l-o-v-e the mindfuck of kneeling in front of a man, my face inches from his cock, as I inflict pain on it. Sometimes I'll even look up at him and open my mouth suggestively, tauntingly just to make it worse.) After I've taken him out of bondage, I'll give him a nice backrub.

See, there's no question in my mind that I'm the dominant. That I'm in control. I know what it may look like, but that ain't what it IS. I revel in that contradiction. There's such space there.

I see so many Mistresses get so hemmed in by the dominatrix conventions, they think wearing pink is a subversive act. That was one of the reasons I initially swooned over Bitchy Jones: she was one of the few women I saw who intelligently asked "Why?" about a lot of these behavioral codes. (One might argue BJ's finding her position a tighter corset than she anticipated at this point, but that's another post.)

Really. Why does wearing fake patent leather six inch platform shoes make a woman dominant? If a man's fantasy is to be led around on a leash and he pays a woman to do that, why is that power exchange? Why does groveling, mewly voiced will-lessness equal submission? Why does sneering, stentorian edict throwing equal dominance?

Well, I know why. It's because that's what the porn tells us. But porn is caricature. It's fantasy. It's not real. It's like, back when I was writing professionally, my life occasionally resembled Carrie's from Sex and the City even though it wasn't until I became a professional Domme that I actually could afford a pair of Manolos. What we see isn't really what we get. Maybe there's some benefit to looking at what's actually in front of you and figuring out what about it genuinely works for you and what ultimately doesn't matter.

*****

One of my readers asked me privately recently if I noticed that I'd been getting fewer comments on my blog lately and why that might be. His theory was that perhaps folks were turned off my by my "Whence Kinky?" post and comments. He suggested that perhaps I was "too honest" and that I may have bruised a couple of imaginations with my ruminations on the provenance of my kink.

I replied that not just this blog, but my practice as a professional dominant itself is about my own pathfinding in dominance and BDSM. "I'm pretty honest about who I am and why I'm here and what I want out of this. In a way, I'm as demanding as a client," I said. "So I kinda have a 'fuck you' attitude to whomever's gonna be such a bitchy li'l prima donna about their kink identity as to get sniffy that I'm exploring mine. "

I then reminded him that is IS August. Who's around to read this stuff anyway?

Whatcha Want?

It's not at all unusual for me to ask a client, "So, what are you in the mood for today?"It's also not unusual for the client to respond, "Uh, I dunno. Whatever you'd like to do, Mistress." While I appreciate the verbal carte blanche, the thing is ... well, if there was something I was of a particular mind to do, I'd do it. I ain't askin' ya just to be polite.

Fact of the matter is, I've got a lot of stuff. There are innumerable things I am capable of doing with the gear I've got. If I may be so immodest, it's a bit of an embarrassment of riches and it's not always easy for me to just pick one. Or five. I also have a fairly active practice, so if I'm keen for a particular scene, the likelihood I have a client on my schedule who would *love* for me to do that with him is pretty high, too.

Part of why I bring this up is because I had a conversation recently with a craftsman that I'd been talking to about making something for me. I'd described for him what I was interested in and asked if he would enjoy making something like that. He said, "Troy, I have a lot of customers who commission me for all sorts of projects. If there's something I want to do, it seems the person who wants it always finds me at the right time. So I just want you to have what *you* want. If I can make the thing that will make you happy, I will be happy."

It was a revelatory moment for me, because he was able to articulate what I'd been feeling about the "whatever you want, Mistress" clients in my practice. I don't think of my asking you what you want as being "service Domme-y" or indecisive: quite the contrary, actually. I'm giving you a say, which to me means that it's mine to determine in the first place. And, mind you, just because you say, "Oh, I was really hoping you'd ____ and then stick ___ in my ____ and then ___ like ____ and then tie my ____ down and grab your ____ and ____" that I'm going to follow your script. Really, it's more that you just point me in a direction and I drive the car til we get where we're gonna go.

Does it feel like you're "in control" (snicker) when a Mistress -- or I -- ask what you'd like to do? Do you have particular cravings for certain kinds of play or is it simply the escape/surrender/submissive feeling you seek? Is it more a pleasure to take that Nestea Plunge and see what happens? Tell me.

Mostly Dead and Read

Lifted and reprinted with my notations from Roxi Fox's blog.

FWIW I have no idea who or what "The Big Read" is but I'm appalled there's no Toni Morrison on here. Or DeLillo. Or Walker Percy. Or "The Sheltering Sky." Or "The Corrections." Or "Their Eyes Were Watching God." I thought Jonathan Safran Foer's "Everything is Illuminated" was a wonder. Ditto "The Hours." And if you're going to include kids' lit, where's "A Wrinkle in Time" or "Bridge to Terabithia"?!? There are easily a dozen more books/authors that I could name right now that really ought to be on this list instead of "The Secret History" (which is one of those weird books, like "Geek Love" that I seem to see on everyone's bookshelf). I'm a little more in favor of Time Magazine's list, personally (it was the first to come in when I Googled "100 best books of all time"). Not sure what my notations below say about me. Probably mostly that I stopped reading books regularly around 1998 and that I clearly have something against the Russians.

I promise I'll write substantively about kink again soon. Got a couple of posts in the works, in fact. :-)



The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they’ve printed.

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you started but did not finish.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who’ve read less than 6 and force books upon them.

1. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19. The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch - George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34. Emma - Jane Austen
35. Persuasion - Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh -
41. Animal Farm - George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52. Dune - Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones' Diary - Helen Fielding
69. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula - Bram Stoker
73.The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal - Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Good Times, Good Times...

Those last few weeks of July kept me hoppin' in the studio. Realizing this past week was going to be fairly light, I decided to take the week off. Besides, my neck, shoulders, and back have both been addled by some kinks lately that definitely feel far more intrinsic than artistic so I figured a bit of relaxation would help.

Tuesday night I met up with MVX and we dropped in at the bar at Scarpetta, a recent fave, for dinner (great timing, great choice: the next day Scarpetta earned three stars from the NYTimes. Bruni is totally right about the tomato, btw...). After fritto misto, beet salad, and polenta with truffled mushrooms, we met up with a vanilla friend of mine at Union Square and we all went over to my studio to play Boggle.

I mentioned I was going to Barcelona again in September.

"But I won't be going to bars, alone-a," I giggled. I'd had a lot of wine.
"As long as you're not wearing anything Gaudi."
"Jamon! Who do you think I am?!"
"Serrano!"
"After Spain, I might go visit my friend in Brussels ... but I'm waffling."
"I'm a-Frites of what might happen..."
"Just don't leave any Bruges, Troy."
"Can't say I give a good Van Damme if I do."
"Well, have fun a-Ramblas through Europe!"

And, yes, I won the Boggle game.

Swamp Yankee

One of my readers was kind enough to point out recently that "Swamp Yankee," a phrase I jokingly use to refer to my "cultural background" does not actually mean what I say it does.

Harrumph! And I have such a strong appreciation (one might even call it a fetish) for linguistic precision.

I ain't changin' it though. Nyah!

Teamwork

I was having drinks with a man at a rooftop bar recently. Next to us was a group of business folks, though the man immediately next to us seemed quite left out of his group's conversation and apparently quite interested in mine.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but what did you just say?" he asked me.

I glanced at my companion, just to make sure he was up for engagement. He was.

Crossing my bare legs and letting the sandal dangle from my foot, I turned back to the fellow and repeated myself, "I said that I'm undateable."

Nosy looked baffled, "I find that hard to believe. Why....why... what do you mean?" He looked at my companion. "I'm sorry. I really don't mean to get into your conversation. But I'm just very curious. Do you mind?"

"Sure, feel free to talk to her," he said. "I should warn you - sometimes you walk into something thinking that you're the cowboy in a cowboy movie. Turns out you are the cowboy, only you're in a vampire movie. And you're lunch."

Grinning, I turned to Nosy. "Hi, cowboy. "

Leather

I was strolling from the chiropractor's near the Museum of Natural History, down to Magnolia Bakery's UWS outpost and stopped by Housing Works just to see what kind of stuff they had. A few weeks ago, I'd browsed the wares at the Chelsea store and marveled at how many leather skirts were on sale there. The UWS version was cluttered not only with leather skirts, but an actual bullwhip!

***

My friend was at my studio the other day and found herself face deep in my Fetters whipping bench. She later wrote me: " I <3 your spanking bench -- it is soooo soft." It is. John of Fetters picked out the leather specifically for me. It's an incredible lot. Plus, when your face goes in the cradle you're just engulfed in the smell of leather. So sensual.

***

I've been wearing leather a lot lately. Those few of you who turned up at the most recent Cat O' Nine might have seen me in my leather tank top and ... hot pants!

But not just for fetish parties!

My favorite ensemble of late is a leather miniskirt with a center front zip and corset lacing in the back and either a leather top or one of my signature boy beater Tees. I've also been wearing my leather dresses and corsets (though that's really more medical than anything). Quite fun.

Ephemera

• At Restoration Hardware they're selling electric bug paddles for under $15. I almost bought a bouquet of them to pass out to all my Domme friends but then realized I'd have a helluva time transporting it on my bike.
• He stopped by to pick up a bag he'd inadvertently left after a party. My friend Mistress Crimson was with me at the studio. I sat him down and tied him, still dressed, to the chair and continued my conversation with Crimson while I singletailed his chest with my Coyote whip. Just 'cause I knew I could. That he would take it. He did.
• After my post on Max Fisch about mentoring by independent Dominas, I'm thinking about finally offering a public class on the business of professional domination. I've collected some really valuable advice over the years on how to manage my business. Kinda seems like information that's more useful in the long run than another class on how to throw a singletail. Any other suggestions on classes that I might want to think about teaching based on your knowledge of me?
• I'd dropped by L'Oeil Cache yesterday and spent some time chatting with my Domme friends there as they got ready for their sessions. It's been a long time since I've been in that environment. I didn't realize how much I missed it. And not just for the casual eddy of women in various states of deshabille, though that was a pleasure too.
• Will someone please get Miss Victoria X to post on her blog? I miss that li'l vixen's clawed wit.
• I love my bicycle.
  
• Why is it that at the Horses exhibit at the Museum of Natural History last Sunday, I was only interested in the whips, crops, and hardware? I even made a note to look up the "Buzkashi Riding Whip" and see if I could find one on Ebay.
  
• Been at a loss lately w/r/t blog post ideas. I'm taking requests. Muse, anyone?
  

I Wish This Were My Ad

This ad was found on Craig's List, of all places. I've been contemplating placing an ad on CL recently. Were I not such a pragmatist, this would be my ad.

My, how I love a man with a flair for the romantidramatic.

I've been trying to think of ways to spice up my life. I'm 35 years old, happily married with two kids and I have a good job in insurance. But somethings missing. I feel like I'm old before my time. I need to inject some excitement into my daily routine through my arm before its too late. I need a challenge, something to get the adrenaline pumping again. An addiction would be nice, but, in short, I need a nemesis. I'm willing to pay $350 up front for you services as an arch enemy over the next six months. Nothing crazy. Steal my parking space, knock my coffee over, trip me when Im running to catch the BART and occasionaly whisper in my ear, "Ahha, we meet again". That kind of thing. Just keep me on my toes. Complacency will be the death of me. You need to have an evil streak and be blessed with innate guile and cunning. You should also be adept at inconsicuous pursuit. Evil laugh preferred. Send me a photo and a brief explanation why you would be a good nemesis.

British accent preferred.

Mwahahahahaha. WANT!!!

Riding the Internet Rails

Tonight I was IM'ing with a friend who pointed me to Reverse Cowgirl's blog. As I scrolled through, I noticed a photo she'd posted by Stephen Meisel. It looked like Madonna with long hair pissing on Naomi Campbell. I clicked on the pic and ended up at a collection of images from Madonna's infamous "Sex" book. Scrolling through the pictures -- which inexplicably were unfamiliar to me for I thought I'd seen "Sex" before -- I was mesmerized by the images (that book's, what? 20 years old now? Oh, more like 16. Anyway...)

I'm not sure why watching Madonna play "dominatrix" in her fantasy book seems more believable to me than what I see sometimes when I flip through the ads on Eros. But it does. Maybe just because of these shoes.

Why Haven't You Gone to a ProDomme? Why You Should.

Unspeakable Axe, a very classy fellow, wrote a provocative blog recently about why he doesn't session with professional dominatrices (yet). While some of his points (no intercourse! it's a budget killer!) are reasonable, I found some of it inconsistent with my experiences and perspective.

So consider this my response rap: Why You Should See A (This) Prodomme.

Because you'll be wanted.
With few exceptions, I don't accept a session with a client I'm not attracted to in some way, be it because he's super smart, super hot, super experienced, super witty, super intriguing, or just has a really big, juicy, gorgeous vocabulary. If you've got any of that going on AND you like to get tied up, tethered down, wrapped around, or used as target practice, I want you. If you can make me laugh for real over a plate of sheep's milk ricotta gnudi and a badass Amarone, then I want you even more.

I don't want you cause you're paying me. Your money doesn't make you desirable. Your desire for what I have to offer you makes you desirable. I want you because you went through the process of finding me, learning all you could about me, and concluding that I was the only one you wanted to have this experience with for reasons you know specifically (and you share them truthfully with me).

Granted, there's no sex on the menu but I have been known to give generous hugs to my clients, to hold them in my arms, to share emotional, personal stories. It's not a sexual intimacy, but it's quite profound, unique, and special nonetheless. Because of my play style, it's probably more than fair to say that my clients don't really feel like clients but more like men in a play-driven relationship with a dominant woman. Which is also what I want from them.

You would please me by playing with me
I love to play and I feed even more on your desire to play with me. It nourishes me. It inspires me. It makes me even hungrier. I can never get enough of the play I love to do, especially with the people who make this so much fun for me. It is really rare that I'm not in the mood to play with a client. (Ironically, I can be less motivated to play in my personal relationships. Pro-play focuses me, whereas at home I'm prone to distraction and laziness.)

What few clients seem to understand is that the scene starts for me when you tell me you'd like to see me and then make your appointment. I start thinking about playing with you, what I'm going to do to you, what I want to create for you. And all in the context of, driven by what I'm craving or needing or feeling at that moment. Call me a service Top, if you must (be reductive and label-y) but a great deal of my pleasure is in thinking about you specifically and what's going to blow you away.

It irritates me when clients say, "whatever pleases you, Mistress" because that doesn't give me anything to work with. There's no friction there. Tell me what YOU WANT, what pleases YOU because from there I can decide whether to grant or to deny. To give abundantly or stintingly. To deliver with conditions or generosity.

Or to just twist it all around every possible way so that you are once again reminded to be careful what you ask for.

THAT. That is how you please me.

Because you understand the price of quality
If you've shopped the bargains and found the craftsmanship lacking. If you have a clear idea in your mind of what you want to experience -- and what you don't want. If you've done your research and believe I'm the one who might be able to give you what you seek. Just do it. You do it for other material luxuries that give you pleasure: the leather interior, the welcome cocktail, the double stitched cuffs, the touchable gadget, the decades of barrel aging, the titanium frame.

Or maybe you've never been able to afford to indulge yourself. Maybe you just have a hard time wrapping your head around paying that kind of money for an experience that you probably can't show off to your friends.

But the thing is: You will know. This is the experience you've craved and sought your whole life and you're going to get a memory out of it that will last you just as long. And it will be yours. All yours. To be fondled in your dreams, relived over and over again. And it will be worth it. I promise you.