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.

Just Can't Help Myself

What started as a quick break for some quality time with my sister turned into a longer break to mourn the loss of a family member. On a positive note, I've gotten to reconnect with a lot of dear family members and friends in the town I grew up in. There are blessings, even in loss.

Thanks for your patience.

I haven't been spending too much time on "scene stuff" while I've been gone, but when a friend emailed me about the latest Daily News over yet another, um, misappropriation of municipal resources, I logged on for more details and, while wondering if my fellow Domme bloggers had weighed in, I ended up at my friend Mistress Yin's most excellent blog, where I found this tasty post.

First of all, I want "lover-meat" ... that just sounds delicious (and not only because there's a hot grill within 20 yards of me as I type). Second, I want that Ass Lock Cock Ring she got! I'd seen it a couple months ago and coveted it then and seeing it again just awakens that desire anew! With the nice Spring weather finally on us, I've been itching to get out of the studio, particularly when I can have my play partners rigged up with great stuff (that won't fall off/out) like THIS fabulous hunk of metal.

Though after my recent trip to Fetters, I've promised myself I'm not buying any new gear until the end of the summer. This doesn't mean that someone can't buy something for me ....

I am back in NYC on Sunday for a much anticipated (on both sides!) OE based on LOTS of intense leather bondage and abandonment. Then I'll unpack on Sunday night and pack for New Orleans on Monday. When I get back from Jazz Fest (I'll be taking sessions on Wednesday, April 30 in NOLA) I will be staying put for a couple of weeks before heading off to Chicago for Shibaricon. I am so excited about Shibaricon this year, I could just pop!

And then I'm home for ALL of June. Can you believe it?!?

Hold the Phone

Hey, y'all. I will not be answering my phone for the next couple of days. If you need to reach me, please send an email. Can't promise I'll get to it in a timely manner, but I'll see it and reply when I can.

Public Play

There's a neat thread on Max Fisch about "public play you wish you did." I was going to reply, but I haven't posted there in nearly a month and ... I dunno. I like streaks. And I need to post more on my blog. So. Yay for Whip Smart readers!

The other day a guy called me asking for ballbusting. I love ball busting, but two hours in studio of crackin' nuts seemed like a bad idea. Not to mention he was hoping to come in the next day and my schedule was already kinda full.

Then I had this idea. "Hey, are you cute? How old are you? Would we look good together walking down the street?" I asked. He said he thought so. "I've got an idea!" I bubbled. "I'll see you for an hour. If the weather's nice. We'll go out and do your session."

I got really jazzed up at the thought of us walking down the street and every once in a while, I'd rush him up against a building as if to embrace .... and then discreetly knee him in the mini-coconuts. Then I'd grab his hand, laugh and giddily pull him along the sidewalk until I found the perfect spot to do it again. I loved the image of just tumbling through New York City on a beautiful, brisk day and finding ways to attack his package.

A happy kick here. A flying hand there. A knee. An elbow.

I didn't give him all those details; I just said we'd go out and I'd discreetly ball bust him in public. I wanted the scene itself to be a surprise. "Call me tomorrow if you decide you want to do it," I said. He didn't. We didn't. But damn, I thought it was a great idea.

Good Money After Bad: Operation Field Trips!

Every once in a while I have a session or experience that doesn't go very well. Whatever Tribute I get from it, as a result, always feels tainted. I get really weird about putting that "bad energy" into my account.

Back when I was starting out, I'd spend the money frivolously. My first pairs of Manolo Blahniks were bought during a difficult trip out West. I've had a few lengthy, indulgent massages, as well, courtesy of a badly screened client or two. More recently, I've been setting aside yuck money to fund my IRA contributions, figuring getting it might hurt now, but this way it can help a lot later. Earlier this week, I had a pretty awful experience with a client that left me rather wrecked; afterwards, I sealed his payment in an envelope and set it aside while I decided what I wanted to do with it.

I arrived in Georgia today. My sister, a schoolteacher, lives here. This past school year, many of my clients generously donated Amazon and Barnes & Noble gift cards as well as books to her class so that she could build up her library for her students. The project was a phenomenal success. Tonight, I saw her school's yearbook and again was just so impressed by how much she gives of herself to her students and how much they seem to appreciate it.

My sister and I had talked about what to do for the 2008-09 school year. She said that one thing that's frustrated her as a teacher has been wanting to do activities with her students outside the school, but finding very little funding available for field trips. I watched her eyes light up as she described all the things she wanted to do with her students, many of whom have never been to a movie theater, much less a museum, aquarium, planetarium, or even a dance or theater performance.

So now I know what my little sealed envelope will be used for: I'm officially launching "Operation Field Trips" for my sister's school. My goal is to raise enough money so that every student at her school will be able to go on at least one field trip this year. If you'd like to donate, send me an email and I'll give you instructions on how to do it. I'll also keep you posted here on our progress.

I think this is the start of something good.

***EDITED TO ADD***

If you would like to send a donation in the mail, you can address your envelope 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.

If you include an email address, your gift will be acknowledged with a discreet personal note.

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!