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.

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.

The Best of Me

He's from Southern California. A dozen or so Dommes have notched his belt before me. This is our first visit.

I tie him to a chair and rest my bare feet in his crotch while we chat.

"Tonight, you'll get the best of me," I whisper in his ear. I sheath his cock in leather, spread his legs rigidly, sleeve his arms in leather and bind them before his chest, tighten the leather hood on his head then affix him at the anchor point for a flogging and a taste of my Strain whip.

I lock him into the cock and ball pillory to wait for me while I set the springs. My bare legs and arms flex as I move about the suspension rig. I'm dancing a little, to the music, to my thoughts of what's to come.

The leather strap cage. The sumptuous leather sleep sack that makes me swoon with the pleasure of its luxury every time I unfurl it. He slides in. Zips. Lacing. Belts. Straps. Clips. Springs. Hoists. Just before lift off, I tighten blue electro bands around his cock and turn on the ErosTek.

Suspension. The pulses in his jutting cock cause his body to flex. He bounces on the springs. This pleases me. I can tell.

I take him down, out, and down further still to the floor. Rope his ankles together and pull this way. Rope his wrists together and pull that way. He is stretched underneath me, abs extended, his breath the only thing that moves him. I dance my feet over his body. A sensual hopscotch.

When I'm done with him -- the ropes off, the hood removed, his skin wet -- he finally speaks. "I will miss you."

How I Spent My Week

If you've been wondering why you haven't gotten a reply to your email, well, I've been kinda busy.

Eighties Baby was back for a Basic Lockdown Overnight. We did a few setups, beginning with a straitjacket/leg sack sling spring suspension (that I forgot to get my camera out for). I stored him for the night in my MaxCITA suspendable, canvas Psycho Sleepsack. The straps were pulled tight, an external catheter was applied with the tubing fed through his CB-3000 with large points of intrigue. Ratchet straps kept him from squirming.



He was keen to try out my sensory deprivation hood, so in the morning, I let him spend some time in it while I sipped my morning tea.



The Collector came in for a round of masochism and leather bondage. First the bondage. His own custom ordered "SciFi Hood" and leather arm sleeves, plus a Stormy Leather corset. I tethered him to the suspension rig and did a lovely round of floggers and single tails on his back and ass.



Then it was over to the bondage bed for a shocking time below the waist and a stinging time above. The whip I'm using is my favorite of the Collector's: a short handled cat with several waxed string tails, each knotted in several places. It's vicious. As you can see here. (It's hard holding a camera and trying to aim, I tell ya!)

Next up was a client from the Midwest in town for the All-Star Game. If he were a masochist, I'd make a joke about being the lead off hitter. But he wanted bondage.


On Tuesday, one of my clients returned after spending five days in at-will chastity. This was a bit of an experiment for me as I've been considering taking chastity play off my menu as a scene offering after a recent experience. Fortunately, this client was able to remind me of why extended chastity play is fun.

Next was a new client, a bondage Houdini who found escape from my back binder combined with my Scott Paul spreader bar and cuffs hogtie combo an impossible dream. It didn't help? hurt? that I added the cruel condom to the mix. (Oh, I guess that would hurt.)

MB popped in for what I like to call a "drive by." Normally, we tend to do only OEs or overnights when we play, but this time we had only a couple of hours. So I strapped him down, shaved his genitals, and then commenced with the metal penetrations.




My next client arrived for his ONE (OverNight Experience)wearing a rakish cap and a charming smile. Eventually, he ended up quite helpless.



My next OE was a new client who'd told me he'd been feeling jaded about his pro sessions recently. I was game to refresh those feelings with lots of rope, an ass hook, and, later, a remote controlled vibrator under my control during dinner. I don't think he's all that jaded anymore.



And you know what's really great?! There's more to come!

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

In my last post, I talked about how clients are often concerned that I play too heavy/hard for them. That I will give them more pain than they can handle. That I'm too sadistic.

That's not what you need to worry about.

What you need to prepare yourself for is that I will definitely get inside your head and quite possibly a vital organ slightly further south, if you're not careful. It's super intense. It's super challenging. And as long as you keep your wits about you -- as I do -- it can be a really amazing, rewarding experience.

(Un)Necessary Roughness: Too Hard or Too Soft?

(I meant to continue yesterday's post with some thoughts about my clients and heavy play but I couldn't quite seem to make the transitions work. Still can't. So. Uh. Zoom Zoom.)

Sometimes I get prospective clients who contact me fretting that, based on my MF Reviews or scene descriptions they've read on my blog, that I might play too heavy for them or might not enjoy playing with them because they can't take pain or marks or something.

Part of me, the less generous part, thinks this is just penis talk. "Ohh, you're so fierce, Mistress! I don't know if I can handle it! Wh-wh-what are you going to DO to me?!" Because, really, my Reviews rarely cover details and I would think any reasonable person would realize that the scenes I write about here are chosen for their intensity, creativity, and newsworthiness.

The other part of me gets it. No matter how experienced you are (and in some cases the more experienced you are the harder it is cause, well, you know what's out there), contacting a Mistress for the first time is scary. It's such a vulnerable introduction. And while I've never really been on the client end of the business, there've been a couple of occasions when I've had to make a blind introduction to a Mistress I admire and ... whew. Intimidating! There's this fear that you're not going to be good enough, or bothersome, or whatever. And I know I don't make it easy for you guys either cause I write all the time about how the bar's set pretty high as far as my expectations of the clients I choose to play with.

What's really interesting to me, though, are the guys who want to see me because they think I'm such a heavy player and then they get in my studio and suddenly it all seems too easy. I hope some of this is just a matter of intention: I think there are things that I do that, by another Domme would be far beyond what you could handle but because I try to create such an atmosphere of surrender what you thought was impossible is not only possible but in fact happening and it's pretty great.

Truth is, I'm kind of a softie. Forcing just isn't my style. I can take a beatdown, and I'm pretty strong, too, but I'm not going to physically overpower most men without their consent. And when it comes to corporal, the brutal sadism thing doesn't really work for me either. I can satisfy a masochist, for sure, but like, one guy said of me in a MF Review:

While I've been whipped harder (I'm sure she could do hard as well), but the mental state she got me into while whipping my ass and back was as close to a state of transcendental meditation as I had ever experienced. It's one of the few times I know I was deep into sub space.

Some of my clients will tell me, "Oh, I wish I could take more for you, be marked, so that you wouldn't have to hold back." Thing is, I like holding back. I love the self-restraint, the self-discipline. I especially love being able to get you to that place you wanna go and not leaving a mark on ya. Gawd, that's just so hot to me. It takes such skill to do that. Brutality? Feh. I'm a ballerina.

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.

What's on your wishlist?

One of my clients sent me an email recently intimating that he'd been fantasizing about picking up something for me at Fetters: "something dark, or sharp, or just plain evil," he said.

What intrigued me about this was just wondering what that present would look like from his point of view. It reminded me about how much I enjoy looking at other Mistresses' wishlists because they not only help me discover great toys, sites, and resources, but because they can tell me so much about the Mistress.

I also get a lot of inspiration when clients send me links for toys they're curious about or want to play with (unless it's some kind of boundary-pushing toy like a Feeldoe or some other kind of genital toy for me...that really rubs me the wrong way (slight pun intended)).

So now I want to know: what's on your wishlist? What piece of equipment or gear have you seen that's gotten your mouth watering? (Or cock throbbing. Or simply activated your "covet" switch.) Paste a link. Show me. Explain why ... or don't. I just want to see.

Good Boy

Humiliation is not a scene I do very often. I like to play in the light so it's a little hard for me to dig into that headspace, which can be awfully dark.

But not with the Athlete.

(Funny, I mentioned him the other day and Voila! he calls. He happened to be in town this week.)

He's not dark. I kinda get where he's coming from with his kink. He seeks balance. I can dig it.

So when we play, "balance" is the intention I bring. Creating desire in and then denying someone who's told "yes" all the time. Desecrating that body he puts so much time into perfecting. Giving him the opportunity to do something right: neither he nor his team are performing well, but he can perform for me. Loathsome and difficult as the jobs are I give him to do, he can do them well.

Halfway into the scene, he asked for permission to use the bathroom. Number one, he said. I gave him a container and rested my head on his shoulder to watch. When he was done, I slid the three-prong speculum into his asshole, cranked it open, and funneled his own hot piss into his ass.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.

I clamped the nose leash to his face and dragged him to the bathroom. It occurred to me as I watched him shit out his own piss with me still holding the leash on his nose that he's like my dog, pissing on the sidewalk while I watch and wait. I tell him this.

Good boy.

French Brazillian

There's a thread on Max Fisch right now about people with ethnic fetishes. MVX and I were talking about how there are lots of women at Houses who're advertised as being a particular ethnic flava of the month. Clients will call asking for a particular type and the answer's always, "Sure, we've got that!" Whatever it takes to get him in the door. So, that hot Central Asian Mistress of your dreams? She's actually Central American with artfully made up eyes. The spicy Latina with the generous hips? More like a Black Ivy Leaguer from the Bronx. It reminds me how much "domination" is really all about the fantasy for some people.

When I started at Luxuria, our receptionist, who'd previously answered phones for a prominent outcall escort service, said that callers were asking about my "nationality" and she wondered what she should say.

"Tell them I'm an American," I said, rolling my eyes. I sighed. "I dunno, baby. As long as you don't tell them I'm an 'Ebony Mistress' I don't care. Can't you just say I'm smart and attractive and really kinky. Isn't that enough?"

But that's not how it works ... at least not for typical House clientèle. So we decided I'd be "French-Brazilian" because, as the receptionist pointed out, it positions me as both "classy" and "sexy" according to the stereotypes. (Why is there no eye rolling emoticon in Blogger?) One of the many reasons I'm happy not to be a House Domme anymore.

For the record, I'm not French. Or Brazilian.

But I love French food and French wine. And lately I've noticed in session that I tend to talk to myself, and sometimes my clients, in bits of Spanish, though that's not quite Portuguese, it's sorta close. About as close as I am ethnically to Brazilian.

Real life, I find, is so much more compelling than fantasy.

Eighties Baby

He wasn't a total novice. He'd sessioned three times before coming to me, each time with a different Mistress for no longer than two hours. He lives at least a two hour train ride away. Said he really wanted to explore heavy bondage and abandonment. Asked if he could be considered for the Orleans Experience.

Oh, and he's 23.

I've played with a handful of clients under 30. Youngest guy I ever saw was maybe 21. Blew me away (though he was a professional athlete so that kinda skewed his maturity level (not to mention disposable income).

In my experience, 20-something players are either absolutely amazing or they totally suck. No gray areas with them. When they're great, it's because they are so enthusiastic, open minded, curious, and remarkably unconflicted about their kink (not to mention, they're typically single, out or both so marks are rarely a problem) that playing with them is energizing and a joy. When they suck it's because they're arrogant, conceited, pillow biting, little "do me" babies with no respect for anyone's needs other than their own.

Fortunately this 23 year old belongs in the former category.

Still, when I play with the young ones (though this applies to novices of any age as well), I always feel a little guilty. Like a corrupter.

I had this one strapped down to the bondage table at the start of the scene. Corset collar. Fist mitts. Leather waist cincher. His legs hoisted high. I was fixin' to shave his lush thatch of pubic hair bare. Then I leaned over and caressed his face, looked deeply into his trusting eyes and said, "Oh, honey. I am going to make you kinkier than you ever could imagine."

In his feedback email, the first line reads: "I made a colossal mistake with the chastity cage. I really want it on right now. Without it, I feel like I've left the house without my wallet or watch."

See?

You know, I ... I .... it's like, on the one hand, "My god, what have I done!?! He's 23! He should be drinking beer and passing out atop lush co-eds, not craving the grip of a chastity cage!"

On the other hand (and both feet), I couldn't be more thrilled. Gosh, you shoulda seen my grin when I read his email. While I write this and think about our experience. It's incredibly rewarding for me to know that not only have I given them a great session, but that I've been able to take them down paths they perhaps never even knew existed and have them find the foreign landscape not only beautiful, but a place they want to visit again and again.

And that's so scary -- like, the responsibility of that -- but it's so real, too.