Rope

I spent a recent Saturday with a handful of rope lovers. In my group were mostly rope Tops, but we all took turns getting ourselves hung, bound, and wrapped in rope. I noted the bite of the strands into my hips in an inverted suspension and considered how I might counteract that burn when I'm doing the rigging. Talking, sharing with other riggers made me realize both how much I've learned about rope in the past few years ... as well as how far I still have to go in my journey.

A few days later, I started the process of conditioning a fresh batch of rope for my studio. It takes almost a week to boil, soak, wash, dry, singe, wall knot, and oil.

Most rope players I know find the labor intensiveness of rope conditioning just too much. Me, ever since I got into rope, I've made my own. I love the process of softening the rope, the air steamed with the scent of hemp, loamish and damp. I love pulling the warm rope through my hands and over the gas jet, burning off the twiny splinters and fuzz. Then I lightly dress a cloth with mineral oil (I'm not picky about the oil type myself) and pass the rope through my hands again.

It's such a sensory experience: the steam and smoke scents, the raspy-to-softening texture as handle it in each stage, seeing it transform from its rough, raw spool into the slick, measured coils. There's love in my ropes, my effort and intention. "When I bind you," I tell my partner, "it's like it's actually me embracing you. My energy is what presses against your skin, holding you up, holding you tight."

A few days later, one of my favorite rope bottoms came in to visit. At first, all I wanted to do was dress and bind him in leather: arm sleeves, CBT parachute, a rigid spreader bar. I attached him to the anchor point just high enough that he was forced to his tiptoes. But then that put too much of a stretch on his balls, which were tied to the spreader bar around his ankles. When he'd relax and flatten his feet, I had sharp pricker pads underneath his soles, waiting for him. That was fun.

But then came the rope. Single column ties at each wrist and ankle, I stretched each limb to one of the four points of the suspension rig. More rope wrapped around his biceps and connected to his thighs. Another skein bound a vibrating bullet to his cock and stretched his genitals upwards towards the ceiling. A blindfold and gag as well. Of course. Four points (five if you count the cock) stretched and held. Formulated, sprawling, pinned and wriggling on the floor.

Stretched on the floor beside him, I whispered, "I'm going to leave you here to wrestle with my ropes alone."

Then I rose and walked away.

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.

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.

What Goes Around Comes Around

One of the things I love about my BDSM practice is how it's always evolving and changing. Scenes or activities that may have been mainstays at one point may fade out and be replaced by another "favorite thing" which then cycles out for the next activity, which may be new or may be a revisit of a previous focus.

Right now, I'm rediscovering my love for flogging, which was one of the first implement-driven corporal scenes I learned. I was taught by Domina M, an admirable flogger. I was mesmerized by the way the tails swirled in her hands as she Florentine flogged (that's double flogging with a whip in each hand. There's a crappy demo here.) As I learned other corporal techniques, however, flogging just became one of those things I did as a warm up for other implements. "It's like shiatsu," I'd shrug when describing it to someone.

While at Shibaricon this past May, however, I took a side trip to the International Mr. Leather conference going on in downtown Chicago. Heartwood was vending there and I picked up a gorgeous, thuddy double elk flogger that just felt like home as soon as it was in my hand. Compared to my other floggers ... well, it just doesn't compare. I love throwing it. It feels amazing.

So that was the tinder for my renewed interest. Several weeks later I had a conversation with MVX (who bought several Heartwood floggers on that trip herself) about flogging and she started describing the pleasure she gets out of a flogging scene:

I like it a lot. I like the physicality of it, the rhythm of it. I like how it affects breathing. I like how it can be done for a long time. I like how it can dial up or down in intensity. It's very accessible. I like how it has a kind of trancey quality to it. In my experience, upper back flogging makes people cry more than anything else.

I started thinking about ritualistic flogging like Victoria was describing and it was really appealing. But because I'd been using flogging so much as just an appetizer for the main course (usually singletail), I just couldn't see how the bottom wouldn't be bored getting flogged, "Yeah, yeah. I'm warmed up. C'mon! Bring the heat!"

Then a friend of mine was talking with me about corporal and commented that since he's a switch but mostly bottoms in his personal relationship, he doesn't get a chance to corporal Top much. "I really love to throw but now think I'm getting rusty cause I never get to do it," he said.

Thinking about my new flogger and how I like to bottom to all my corporal toys just so I know how each instrument feels when I'm dishing it out ... and still wondering about what it's like to be on the receiving end of a long flogging, I suggested he practice on me for a bit.

He skillfully took me through my entire flogger collection (clearly, flogging's like riding a bicycle...) and not only was I not bored, I just didn't want it to end. It IS like shiatsu ... and, you know, shiatsu feels GOOD! Though I have to admit some of my floggers felt better than others. I really want to get more Heartwood floggers (I hope they're vending at Floating World next weekend!) because the quality is just exceptional.

And that, my dears, is why you shouldn't be surprised if I pull out the floggers on your next visit.

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.

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!!!

They're here! They're here!

So I know I said I wasn't going to buy any new gear until after summer but two people -- one anonymous and one not -- generously purchased a few things for me recently. Now it's all arrived.

First was the Studio Gum Multifunction Mask. This piece is sick. Heavy rubber hood with a zip over gas mask. I also got the "bubbler" inhaler attachment to go with it. The idea being the bottle is filled with ... whatever fragrant liquid I like and then the hose is attached to the mask and the wearer's every breath gets filtered through that liquid. Serious Bondage has a great post about that Bubbler Bottle (you'll have to click through a few entry pages before the article shows up).

I talked with a few of my gas mask loving friends and spent a fair amount of time this morning talking with rubberist and bondage expert Ariana Chevalier about some of the finer points of using this intense, intimidating, incredible hood. My oh my. A loving Thank You to Yin, Delano, Darla, and Ariana for your invaluable tips and feedback and heartfelt gratitude to the very, very kinky man who put this in my hands.

My other shipment was my wishlist from Scott Paul Designs. I'm now the proud owner of his "Click a Cuff" bondage system (finally I have a rigid spreader bar!) as well as the blindfold and assorted gags, including the Humilator gag serving tray and toilet tissue holder.

Last night, I had the opportunity to test drive a few of the pieces in a preliminary run. Ohhhh, yes. Wow. Not only are Scott's pieces really portable, lightweight, and beautiful. They're functional. I had my bottom in the spreaderbar for a pretty serious thrashing and it was the first time I ever had a bottom not wriggle his feet around like one can in most spreaderbars. (Now, spreader bars finally make sense to me!) The serving tray gag supported a glass of wine quite nicely (though my bottom reported a lot of jaw stress under the weight, which I don't think is a bad thing. Quite part of the fun, I suspect.)

I still have to run the set through some more field testing, but so far, I'm super excited. Delighted. To whoever my "secret admirer" is ... thank you. (And while I normally don't like mysteries, I have to say, I'm enjoying the whodunnit? thing here. It's such a generous gift and yet the giver's not trying to get credit for it. Very sexy.)

Fortunately, it appears I'll have plenty of opportunities this week to play with my new stuff. I am so blessed and appreciate all of you -- fellow Dominas, clients, gift givers, blog commenters, scene friends -- for your presence and influence. I couldn't be happier.

Ephemera

Just some random bits from my life, my thoughts. Like Twitter, but a little more fleshed out.

*Talked with Suzanne SxySadist today and realized we had a little space in our schedule during her visit next weekend. So we're thinking it'd be awfully sweet of us to fill it with a double session or two. Speaking of super Suze, she's been getting me all hot and bothered and inspired with her blog this past week. Check it out.

*I've been tying Carrick Bends (called a Double Coin Knot by 2KnottyBoys) in all the sashes on my skirts and pants lately. It's pretty ... and I hope some rope lover on the street will notice.

*A heartfelt Thank You to my anonymous donor for the store credit as well as to my fellow perv for your unexpected generosity.

*I wore shimmery gold Nippies while sunbathing on Cedar Beach in Babylon, Long Island and now I have these pale butterflies dancing on my sunburned chest. I'd never been to any of Long Island's beaches (except the occasional concert at Jones Beach). Never been to the Hamptons or Montauk or Fire Island. The water was unpleasantly cold no matter how unbearably hot I was.

*Instead of going to yoga on Saturday, I went to the Big Apple Barbecue Festival in Madison Square Park. I loved seeing my food friends. I met a new one and we got to talking and walking and next thing I know we're at my studio. For a seen it all, done it all kinda guy he sure was surprised to see what was inside. Afterwards I rode my bike to a friend's place and spent the rest of the afternoon unspooling rope and sipping on coconut ginger smoothies. Thanks, axe, for dinner. You're welcome for the Beard Papa.

*Friday night I was out with my food friends at an industry party. I sipped martinis and danced to Madonna/Justin. One said to me "Girl, you need to get out more often. You was partying like it's been too long!" I'm embarrassed it was so obvious but on the other hand, I had a great time. Four minutes to save the world ... or at least me.

Speaking of pop ... is Rihanna a closeted domme or does she just play one on TV?
Evidence 1 (Though who doesn't want to Top Adam Levine?)
Evidence 2 (mostly lyrics) ("You look so dumb right now...")
Evidence 3 (check the wallpaper!)
Evidence 4 (Shut up and drive!)
Evidence 5 (ballet boots?! spiked gloves!?! leather halter shorts!?!)
I saw her perform at MSG a few weeks ago and her backup dancers were in latex catsuits, there was simulated spanking, she had on a super-dommy outfit... You didn't even have to be a scenester to recognize it. MVX and I were discussing this the other day, trying to figure out if this is all coming from her or just styling: "Maybe we'll find out if she breaks up with Chris Brown and he goes public about their sex life. 'My life as Rihanna's sex slave: An OK! EXCLUSIVE!'"

*A friend sent me a link for InHerTube. I don't have a tire fetish or even care much for dildos, but I want that hand harness! (The boot harness could be pretty cool too. Give "ass kicking" a whole new meaning, no?)

That's all for now. Feel free to add your own bits.

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.

So, like, I have this fantasy?

Here's one for ya.

Whilst bemoaning my sore feet and sore throat at SMack! the other night, I was again reminded why I just don't like going to fetish scene parties. Whole lotta walkin' around looking for something (or someone) worth seeing. I hardly saw any play myself ... then again, seemed like a girl couldn't swing a whip without hitting all the spectators in the process.

So I've been thinking about hosting a private play party at my studio for a while now. Something small, like, 10-14 people. Thing is, I want everyone to PLAY. One of the ways I thought I'd facilitate that was by having everyone wear a little tag that lists their inclinations for the evening. Like, mine might read:

Hi, My Name is: TROY
Will Top for: Singletailing, rope suspension, trampling
Will bottom for: rope suspension

And then anyone who wanted to be singletailed or suspended or trampled could come up and ask me to do that and I would. Similarly, if I saw someone with a tag that read, say:

Hi, My Name is: BOB
Will bottom for: spanking, CBT, face slapping

And I thought, "Hey! I'd like to spank him!" then I'd be free to say, "Hey, Bob, want a spanking from me?"

You could only ask for what's on that person's sticker. (Bob could ask me to singletail him but not spank him, e.g.). All players -- Tops and bottoms -- would have to agree that all play requests must be honored at least once per player for at least ten minutes, after which either player may say "Mercy" and end the scene. Everyone, in other words, should get to play.

Part II of this fantasy is that I would have one or two service bottoms in attendance. One would be a bondage installation. Catheterized, mummified, with some sort of structural support so that he could comfortably stay in the position for several hours. Perhaps he'd be outfitted with this to make him functional as well. Or install him in the bathroom (ooooh!) with this.

The other service bottom would be a consensual nonconsensual free object. Anyone can do anything s/he wants to him/her at any time. (Okay, okay ... Maybe I'd allow a sticker with three hard limits.)

And since this would be a private -- i.e. non-client -- play party, I would auction off the service bottom positions to non-invitees through my blog and the proceeds would go to my sister's Operation Field Trip fund. (Speaking of which, there's an address now to mail your donations directly! Please click the link for details!)

Wow. That's actually a better fantasy than the one I was originally going to write about .... especially cause this one actually has a shot at coming true!

Shibaricon: The Afterglow

So I'm back from ShibariCon and while I had an amazing time the best part about it was that now I do not have any travel currently planned for the rest of June and July. Huzzah!

There are, however, some close runner-ups for "best things about Shibaricon 2008." First would be I learned Master Z's fantastic 12-point suspension rigging which is ideal for larger bodies and people who can't have rope marks. A few of you "anything you want, Mistress" clients of mine are going to be cursing the name of Scott Smith, whose "Needles as Anchors" class taught me some really evil bondage that can be done with needles. (I'm also very pleased to report that when I commented during class about how I've done butterfly piercings (click for a poor example) using a surgical staple gun, Scott -- a twisted, sadistic fuck in his own right -- literally leaped from behind his presentation table and gamboled over to me in the audience to lift me above his head and gleefully proclaim, "I LOVE this lady!"

Sir C taught me some pretty hot hojojutsu moves ... or at least I thought they were until I tried them on a 6' ft. 5" in. friend. Then I just felt silly. I also finally learned how to do the Two Knotty Boys' crossed foot tie, seen on their home page and their Double Coin Knot (also known as a Carrick bend). Actually, I'd learned it a couple times before but this time I'm pretty sure it's going to stick.

Of course I picked up some stuff too. Two 24 ft. skeins of fat, dark brown twisted cotton rope that I have no idea what I'll do with but it was just so pretty -- like a soft, fat baby -- that I had to get it. And I was fascinated by the potential of the flat, woven hemp -- like rope tape -- that I got 100 ft. of it. (At the evening play parties, I saw Mistress Yin use hers as head bondage and loved the feelings of objectification it inspired, seeing that head haphazardly wrapped in strips and folds.)

A few of us left the rope world for an excursion downtown to the International Mr. Leather (IML) convention. As we rode the escalators down to the vendor's bazaar, the scent of leather wafted up toward us, like fresh baked goods. I ran my nails across the rubber skin of a boy in bondage; gawked at another fellow's large, pale pucker as he lounged on a bondage sling, inviting stares; and talked with a couple of guys about the pros and cons of the Ass Lock Cock Ball I'd been coveting, concluding that perhaps it wasn't the right piece for my needs after all.

On the other hand, I fell in love with the gorgeous inventions at Scott Paul Designs, particularly his Click-a-Cuff bondage system and his unique gags and blindfolds. While I managed to restrain myself from buying the collection, I just had to walk away with something so I picked up his Cruel Condom. Oh boy! Also, I found a really fantastic double thick, elk flogger from Heartwood that swings flawlessly and is just the thuddy-thump I needed in my flogger lineup.

So that's all the top-level detail, but there's lots of other stuff I'm still percolating and will share in the days to come. Needless to say, I'm now counting the days til Shibaricon 2009.

Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most

One of my blog readers sent me an MP3 of Betty Carter singing this after my Happy Spring post. I should have been playing it last night when I finally got to break in my new springs.


What you're seeing here is the bottom in a Fetters suspendable, leather lined sleep sack, then wrapped in my Fetters suspension sling. Weight-graded carabiners were attached at multiple points, primarily to the sling (which can be used horizontally, vertically, or even inverted!!) and then connected to springs tethered to various bondage points on my MetalBound rig. Underneath all that was a pin prick sheath around his cock and a C&B "bikini" harness (it kinda looks like this. But in rubber.).

The event itself was achieved after some collaboration between my bondage bottom and I. The hoists aren't actually engaged -- the entire suspension was solely by the springs -- but I had them there as safety measures.

So here's what I loved about this set up.

I loved the geekiness of it. The puzzle of solving HOW to do it. One of my favorite parts of play is just figuring out how to realize a vision. How to make it happen. And then it's done and it's just this giddy, "Fuck YEAH! I did that!" And it looks so cool, too, doesn't it? Kinda sci-fi, yet warmed by the mirrors, the drapes, the colors of the room. Me.

I loved that he was really comfortable, yet totally helpless and immobilized. This means I can put someone in this position and there won't be any distractions to interrupt the scene. Once I got him up and secure, I sat with my laptop, excitedly chatting online with MVX about what I was doing (had to tell someone. I was too pleased!).

I loved the potential of it. I want to do this again, and once the bottom's up, invade him with electrics. (There are both rear and front entry zippers on the sleep sack ... or I could have him wired up beforehand.) Or I could add the Venus2K on a timer. Or even just pricker pads on the nipples. I'm fantasizing about "abandonment" or overnights in this spring suspension. Just how long can someone handle it?

At one point, I climbed on top of him while he was suspended. I straddled him first, then lay my full length along his. The suspension straps made it a little uncomfortable for me, but I liked that it could be done and I think there's more exploration that could happen here.

It was just all delicious fun. And now that I've got the blueprint, I'll be doing a formal set up this weekend for the photo shoot. I'm also planning on doing a similar suspension, but vertical and with a straitjacket. I can just imagine having a client, his balls weighted, pulling him down, the springs holding him up, and me just somewhere in the middle of all that, driving him crazy.

Can you tell how excited I am? I can't even make this post make sense!

Sites that Excite Me

Here are a few sites that give me a thrill.

InSex M Yummy men in bondage, often getting hurt.

Device Bondage Makes me wish I knew how to build things

Infernal Restraints Makes me wish men were as lithe and flexible as women

Literotica When I feel the need... the need to read!

Inspirations

The delightfully demented Mistress Saskia led me to Occasional Hell's Infernal Device, an incredible site cataloging a variety of historical torture devices. I'm particularly enraptured by the Iron Gag (aka Mute's Bridle), Heretic's Fork, and Chain Whip, to name a few.

I may need to talk with MetalBound. Sigh.

Good Discipline

In his personal life, STS is a domestic discipline Top (and he's a right fit Englishman, to boot) but as my client he bottoms to me for single tail scenes. Often after our sessions, we'll have a glass of wine while the fires on his back bank down to a warm glow and he'll tell me about his adventures with his favorite spanking sub, Lyssa.

Recently, he'd been extolling the unique pleasures of the single tail to Lyssa, enough so that she was curious to feel its bite. For our next appointment, he asked if he might bring her and combine a scene in which he'd put her through the paces over his knee and, once she was sufficiently warmed, I'd give her bottom a sampling of my whip. Then STS and I would do our thing (I suspect he wanted her to see he actually could take what he dished out).

I immediately agreed: after hearing him talk so much about his scenes with Lyssa, I was curious myself as to what exactly went on. Say "Domestic Discipline" to me and my first thought is always some kind of role play: a strict governess and her unruly ward, for example. I couldn't imagine STS (or Lyssa, for that matter, who I'd met previously to advise her on prosub work) playacting.

Knowing her interest in OTK and other English disciplines, I invited Mistress Darla to join me in observing the scene. As we settled down to watch, STS summoned Lyssa to his lap. With the first strike of his hand, Mistress Darla and I both tensed up: that was no warm up stroke! He spanked rigorously, punctuating his smacks with instructions.

"Fingers spread!"
"Legs straight!"
"Toes tucked!"

The squirming Lyssa complied.

Watching them, as STS moved her through various positions and implements -- standing, hands out for ruler swats, leaning against the chair seat for the leather strop or on the back of the chair for a cane, one leg up for an inner thigh paddling, etc. -- I felt myself growing warm. From the look on her face, Mistress Darla was too. There was such ... discipline to his discipline. At times we could see her struggling with the beating, resisting it. But I could also feel her ecstasy.

Darla and I applauded.

After watching Lyssa take all that, her cheeks now a furious, flushing patch of pink, I propped her against the A-frame for a handful of kisses from my whip. She took them well, but I could tell it wasn't much her taste. Perhaps for now.

STS and I took our turn and I opened up his back. It feels silly sometimes to talk about energy and connection, but when STS and I play, there's really no denying it. It's palpable. The room was electric. Hot. From her safe corner where she sat, watching, with Lyssa, Mistress Darla said, "Troy, I can feel you all the way over here!"

Once STS and I finished, of course Mistress Darla couldn't resist joining in the fun.

"Come here, little girl," she beckoned to Lyssa, pointing to her lap. Shyly, she leaned over Darla's grey pencil skirt. Darla began, priming her bottom gently before working up to a heavy handed thrashing that left Lyssa whimpering.

"Look at her face," STS whispered to me, noting Darla's red lips curved up slightly in a cruel smile. "She truly gets it."

Then, as now as I'm writing this, I felt a chill of pleasure. There was so much joy in the room. Pure delight emanated from everyone as we shared this thing we loved.

"God, I love my life!" I whispered back to him.

****

Shortly after I return from Spain, I'll be sessioning with a bare-handed spanking enthusiast.

He has no idea what he's in for.

Signature Moves

While Suzanne SxySadist was here, I invited her to give a singletail tutorial to me and Mistress Katja of Seattle/San Francisco. Two of my favorite Dommes, a mess o' whips, and tea: what better way to spend a Saturday morning?!? Suze taught us a new stroke (one she says she learned from Dov) called "The Sinatra." Ohhh, is it sexy. It's like a sling of the coat over your shoulder. I was practicing it and a few other strokes for most of the night last night.

Suzanne is a whip connoisseur and I fell particularly in love with her Joe Wheeler whip. I've heard of Wheeler before and was really impressed with him at a whip seminar he did at Purple Passion more than a year ago. His whips are quite sought after ... and it's obvious why. I want a Wheeler signal whip. Someone told me the waitlist is nine months. Talk about patience.

On MF someone asked about 'signature moves.' My first reply was "crotch grab." Then I realized the one thing I do that nearly all my clients remark on is my hug. That's a pretty great signature move, I think.

What Gets Me Excited

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