I was wearing jeans and a black sweater, but my feet were bare. When he arrived, I allowed him to kiss my feet hello. He confessed that he had never considered himself a foot fetishist, but he found the curve of my toes outrageously sexy.
I used him as a foot rest while I smoked a cigarette. I was so aroused by the control I held over him. There was a moment where I knew that I owned him entirely. He would literally do anything I ordered.
BTW, I really do love that the jitney has wireless. I feel so sci-fi cruising down the highway while on the web.
I'm back in NYC just for a day, then it's off to the Hamptons tomorrow morning.
There was a maxfisch thread about most memorable moments in session, not best sessions, just those moments you'll never forget. For those of you who don't read maxville, here's what I had to say:
I don't know if I'd call these my "best dungeon moments" but I'll certainly never forget any of them.
1--While still a house Mistress, a client had been booked for me. He specifically requested that we forgo the consult as he did not want to encounter me out of role: Strict Uber Bitch Dominatrix. Along with the list of activities he enjoyed he also specifically requested that I not smile at any time. I remember that I paused outside the dungeon door, arranged my cleavage and my game face. With an angry glare I threw the door open. Naked, kneeling with his head to the floor in the center of the room was the youngest, hottest, most hard body client I had encountered at that time. A twinge of a smile started to cross my face and I stilled it. But then he looked up and in a booming Australian accent, he said "G'day Mistress!" I actually lost it and started laughing hysterically.
2--The first time I came in session. Somewhere after my lifestyle play during my early pro-domme days I'd been taught that session was not my "sex." So while I still enjoyed playing, I never thought of it as sexual for me. I was wearing a strap-on and literally fucking my client's face. I had him by his hair and I'll admit that he took my revenge for any time my head had ever been pushed or held down while giving a blow job. Caught up in the rush of power, I don't recall actually realizing that I'd found the correct angle to have the base of the harness rubbing my clit. But suddenly I was coming and I locked my thighs around his head with the dildo still deep in his throat and bucked all over that couch. When he left and I went back to the locker room I was all flushed and confused with my mind racing: Was that "ok?" Did I just break a dungeon rule?
3--Many years ago I had a regular with a cannibalism fantasy. Over the years I "prepared to eat him" various ways, but the moment I'll never forget was the terror in his eyes as I brandished a bloody handful of raw chopped meat, claimed it was the leftovers from the little boy I ate last week, bit off a chunk and threw the rest at him as he laid bound on the floor. It hit his torso with a wet thwack and rivulets of blood ran all over him. he kept looking at his chest and looking at me over and over again. God that was a great moment!
Watched Unleashed last night. I can't believe I missed this flick in the theaters. I'd heard good things about it, but popped the dvd in knowing absolutely nothing about the plot line. The fight scenes are terrific. There's a group fight that reminded me of the amazing hallway sequence in Oldboy.
Flight boarding...catch ya later. I just had a horrible, "what if I die on this flight" thought and...ugh, I'm totally not afraid of flying. But I'll check back in to let you all know I made it.
This morning a friend asked me what the etiquette is regarding a sick Fuck Buddy. Should she bring him soup? Absolutely not! That's his girlfriend's job. I realize this is a topic that I probably know far too much about that perhaps the world at large does not. NYC casual sex definitely has rules. Why don't people know them? What should I call this book of protocol? Keep it simple...perhaps "Friends With Benefits" But I've always hated that term. I'm not friends with my fuckbuddies! Obviously we get along, and I enjoy their company, but they are certainly not who I call when I'm in crisis. "Casual Sex Rules" I kinda like that one. Eh, titles can come later.
Here's a set of five casual sex etiquette rules:
1. The term "booty call" is from the 90's. It's nearly 2006, if you're drunk and horny at 2 am, the proper procedure is to send a text message. This is beneficial on several levels, a-if your fb is asleep (particularly beside their significant other) this is neither obtrusive or offensive, b-your friends beside you in the bar (or the person walking their dog as you stumble home from said bar) don't need to know how horny you are or what you'd like to do to your fb, text messaging is discreet!
2. Birthday and holiday gift exchanges. Again, NO! NO! NO! Kindly keep your fb relationship in perspective. The two of you strictly serve each other's carnal needs. Is there any gift that could top that? Fuck Buddies are NSA (no strings attached) soooooo if one of you buys a gift then the other is obligated to reciprocate. How uncomfortable! Why waste valuable foreplay time with unwrapping and niceties of that nature? The breath wasted on your insincere "I love it!" would be much better spent on your lover's earlobe or genitalia.
3. Spending the night. Definitely acceptable. Makes morning sex so much more convenient! Coffee? Morning smoke? Sure! Go ahead, but please don't expect to go for brunch. Now, a One Night Stand is different, breakfast could be a possibility. Who knows? This might be your next significant other. But if the boundaries have already been established and you are not in fact dating, why go through the charade that you are?
4. Ironically, this list has been interrupted by a rule number one. Ok getting back to business. Yes, you can tell your fb precisely how you would like to be done. Sure I understand you might not want to tell a potential life partner about your dirtiest and kinkiest fantasies, there's a fear of personal rejection in that situation. (But then again should you be spending the rest of your life with someone who isn't interested in what you really want?) I digress. Basically your fb is there to get you off, suitable partners for this type of endeavor will be (as you should be) open to instruction and correction. You should not be in bed with someone that you can not talk about sex with.
5. PART ONE: You may continue to date or engage in a serious relationship while employing the services of a Fuck Buddy. In fact, this is encouraged. (Before anyone gives me shit about the conflict of a FB engaging in a serious relationship, I ask you to recall the following things, a-I personally do not believe in monogamy and maintain a complete separation between the physical and the emotional, b-I am not responsible for anyone else's commitments, c-most people cheat) Depending upon the individual FB relationship, your dating or "real relationship" exploits may or may not be discussed. If permitted, however, it is poor etiquette to compare and contrast your partners.
5. PART TWO: It is NOT acceptable to engage a FB with a significant other that you know. This means your best friend's, sibling's, band-mate's and co-worker's boy or girl friend is off limits. One would think this is self evident. But for those of you who might make this grave tactical error, remember, a FB is a casual, strictly sexual based relationship. This situation will lead to emotional behavior resulting in uncomfortable social situations, accusations, basically all the stuff a FB is meant to avoid. Do not confuse being the FB of someone in a "real relationship" with "having an affair." Refrain from emotional investment in your FB at all costs, it will only hurt you. Mistaking lust for love in a FB situation is breaking the rules.
While engaged in conversation with a new acquaintence, I was reminded of this post. I gave that attentive smile and nod while he went on about a current political topic that I knew absolutely nothing about. My smile was perhaps a touch more genuine as I thought about dashing into the bathroom to google the topic.
Then a few weeks ago, I met a guy that I thought I was interested in. I sent him the links to this blog and my site. I told him that he'd learn more about me than he might even want to know, but I'm really open about who I am and what I do. The questions from his vanilla point of view were suprising to me. At first there were the obvious ones, terminology, what's CBT? (guess he didn't know that I'm in the midst of reading Family Jewels, a guide to male genital play and torment) NT? But then came the q's that illustrated that he really did not understand the BDSM dynamic. Dildo worship & training? Fisting? Did he miss the fact that I am the dominant player? Did he momentarily think I was a peep show girl? Obviously, I cleared up his misconceptions.
Why are my sessions always so thematic? The other day I saw two trample & smother clients. One of the sessions was a double Mistress with Emanuelle. During our consult he told us that while he was a novice, he really enjoyed trampling, "go crazy," he said, "bounce if you want." I'm sure you know that we took that comment and ran with it! I laughed so much while we absolutely crushed him!
I spent time reworking my site this weekend. Why is it that every domme's website is black and red???? I'll let you all know when it is actually ready to be unveiled.
Something happened this week that leaves me utterly bewildered. I trusted someone that perhaps I shouldn't have. I am ashamed of my gullibility, angry at myself and yet saddened deeply by the whole experience.
edited to add: I just d/l the song referenced in the title and it is horrible! My recollection of it is sooooo much better than the reality
A few weeks ago, when Sade and I watched Audition, we discussed the whole Japanese panty vending vachines (ie: bura-sera) thing. She put forth how awesome it would be if we could set one up at Purple Passion or at Rapture (could I be a guest panty seller?). So today with nothing but time on my hands I did some investigating. What do panty vending machines look like? Exhibit A:
It's just a converted cigarette machine! We can so do this!!!! My research also led me to this clip. Which is probably a part of why my craigslist panty selling exploits were so successful. I hand-delivered them. I know I posted one note a received, but this is what a most eloquent gentlemen sent after his purchase:
What can I say? Those panties were off the scale of deliciousness ( ... A, AA, AAA, supreme, extra fine) and into a realm where the olfactory becomes tactile. The humidity was unbearable. At home I stripped, showered, lay naked on my bed in the airconditioning, and proceeded to explore.
There was a subtle gradation of tone moving down from the front and intensifying in the very wet region of the cotton gusset, then a quite sudden and pronounced transition to the area moist with sweat from around your asshole, and where I discovered, to my delight, a single dark pubic hair trapped in the lace. Every part was glorious in its own way.
I then pulled the panties right over my face ("Abu Ghraib" style) with the central gusset area over my nostrils, closed my eyes, breathed deeply and rhythmically and quickly brought myself to two intense orgasms in ten minutes.
--Seduced a seminary student. I thought he was attractive before I understood that he would eventually be a priest, but am I an unhinged pervert for wanting him so much more after I found out?
--Had an intense choking session. It has never been an area of particular interest to me, but it seems I'm a natural.
--One of my favorite clients decided that sessioning with me was tantamount to cheating on his wife and that he could no longer continue deceiving her. I talked him away from the edge of confessing to his wife his addiction to me, but lost him as a client. I've always encouraged him to tell her about his fetish, who knows maybe she'd indulge him. But I find it so sad that he will bottle up everything he has discovered with me.
--Upon receiving the coffeemaker/espresso machine I'd placed on my wishlist, I purchased coffee, milk, sugar, chocolate powder, even a bottle of water in case I didn't like the taste of my tap. My lack of domesticity was proven when I realized that I was still missing some key elements for the perfect mocha, namely mugs and spoons. Also once I'd improvised with pint glasses, one must have dishwashing liquid on hand to do it again.
--the art of dating continues to elude me. Received an email from I guy I crushed madly on several months ago to find that meeting me inspired him to book an appointment with a pro-domme. Um, hello? No, it wasn't with me.
--Immigrant women have now scrubbed my floors twice and I do not care how bourgie it makes me, I love having a cleaning lady.
--After watching the entire first season of Carnivale in two sittings, I realize that the only shows to come on TV that have interested me at all in the last decade have been on HBO or Showtime. Too bad I still haven't hooked up cable. But then it is probably a good thing, as I might never leave my apt again.
--Placing all of my books onto my bookshelves gave me a pleasure that I think can only be described as perverse
--The thousand dollar black leather couch that I scored off of craigslist for two hundred bucks also gives me joy that is probably unhealthy.
--Visiting the chiropractor daily for a week after inexplicably blowing out my lower back, the tech comments, "I can't turn the [electro-stim] machine any higher, you've maxed it out." When the doctor has his elbow dug deep into my lower back, "You really have an incredibly high tolerance for pain." Did I miss my calling? Should I have become a pro-masochist instead? Don't even entertain the thought. I have yet to meet the man I would submit to.
--I adore sharing films that I love with people. I showed a hopeless romantic Say Anything and Audition to another sadist. I don't think that the sheer artistry of the torture in that film can be appreciated by someone who has never been in that headspace. What a precise sliver of my psyche is now up for grabs.
--Attended two seminars given by Flagg. As prepared as I was to dislike him (for no rational reason), I was pleasantly surprised. Knowledgeable man.
--visited a friend in the psych ward after a botched suicide attempt. I arrived with Boo Boo Kisses for her wrists. Thankfully she laughed.
I'm normally available most of the time. I'm so lucky that my day job hours are utterly flexible. But I had to turn down three sessions yesterday. I spent the day moving my ex's belongings into storage. My apartment is mine again! This was not a box of photos and a few sweaters situation. I filled a 14 ft truck to move it all to a 10x15 storage space. My apt is practically empty! I feel like I just moved in. I'll be using a combination of professionals and cleaning slaves to get it inhabitable again. While I don't subscribe to the "Mistress as Divine Being" mindset, I assure you that you will never see me scrubbing the floor. Cleaning just isn't one of my skill sets. We had a cleaning lady during my formative years. I wonder if my mother even knew how to clean?
Also on the menu is renovation. Anyone know how to install pergo floors?
Want to go shoot guns and/or see the Weegee exhibit at the Getty?
And you thought that was just a catchy title. Nope, I'm serious. I live in NY and am just here on vacation for one more day. NYC gun laws seem to be MUCH stricter. I've never shot a handgun and have always wanted to. I called a gun club here in LA, but people aren't allowed to go alone. Wanna go shoot guns?
I also am interested in checking out the Weegee exhibit at the Getty.
I don't think there is much opportunity for conversation at shooting ranges, but the following outlines a bit about me and whom I typically seek.
I would like to meet someone interesting, intelligent and articulate. I am, of course, all of the above. I like violent asian films (think Takashi Miike), am relatively apolitical, have a twisted sense of humor, am an unrepentant smoker, believe deeply in the merits of caffeine, am dangerously impulsive, find spelling/grammatical errors on shop signs both irksome and occasionally amusing. Oh yeah, the shallow stuff. I'm pretty, sexy, tall with dark red hair, hazel eyes, long muscular legs and a voluptuous figure.
I like smart men without pretension. Please have a solid grasp of the English language, lived adventurously enough to have a few tales to tell and know how to laugh. Tall wiry guys typically turn my head but a fully functioning brain and a twisted sense of humor are required to hold my interest. Kindly reply with your photo and something about you that might pique my interest.
So...are you ready? I'm headed out to see a flick now, will check my email around 6:30/7, the range is open until 11!
I received about twenty-five responses by the time I returned from the movie. Some were downright scary. The guy built like a linebacker in a black suit, black shades and "enforcer" written all over him, sent a one line reply, "I love guns." The teenaged gangbanger complete with bandana tied around his head, said, "Yo! bitches wit guns are hot!!!!"
The guy I actually went out with really fit no stereotype. Intensely intelligent, hardcore geek cred, MacGyver claimed skills that I didn't have the opportunity to test, an absolutely sincere smile and enough in common with me to talk until six am.
We shot off about a hundred rounds each, using a Beretta 92FS and a Kimber Eclipse Custom II. I was so excited when we arrived that I actually jumped up and down like a little girl. However, as the guy behind the counter talked to us about which guns to choose, I was suddenly sobered by how absolutely dangerous guns are. So it was with a healthy respect for the weapons we were about to use that I put on the eye and ear protection they provided. But by the time we were actually in the lane, I was totally psyched and excited again. It was SOOOOO much fun.
So...I'm off for my last LA shopping trip (the amount of money I've spent this week is obscene).
On Monday I sessioned with the victim I'll be using for tomorrow's demo at Rapture. He was great fun to play with, but we actually got along so well and were chatting so much that I had to tell him to shut up because our conversation was distracting me from our play.
Tonight I dropped a hundred bucks in less than ten minutes buying stockings over at The Sock Man. I got old fashioned cuban heels, fishnets, thigh highs and traditional black stockings galore. As I don't have any stocking fetishists booked for this week, it was a kinda frivolous purchase, but honestly I just couldn't resist.
The LAST TESLAMANIA EVER!!!!!! “Bitchin” “Totally radical, braugh” “Heavy stuff, man” “This is the ultimate” "Gecko tends to perform loads of weird science, typically with one or both of the Tesla coils in house with cybertronic themes, breaking down the barriers between, science, sex and nature." audience responses
The mistress of the Tesla Coil and co-director of Collective:Unconscious, Gecko Saccomanno, is moving away, so this will be her very last show ever. For 5 years she has been WOWing you with all things Tesla in the longest running tribute to the forgotten genius and inventor Nikola Tesla....TESLAMANIA!!!
See the largest Tesla Coil on Manhattan-Electric bolts with a 6 foot span. Watch electric bolts shoot from lobster claws + out of flowers, as neon tubes glow from across the room!! Smell the fresh scent of ozone!!!
Come join her, plus Tesla master Jamie Mereness + the Most Special of Special
guests the Galorious Missy Galore for one last BLAST!!!!!!
Friday September 16th 7.30 pm
reservations 212 254 5277
I did a photoshoot on the Arena roof with Ingela. Not only is she incredibly hot, as evidenced below, she's just as good on the other side of the lens. Most amusing though is that at the moment this shot was taken, in her breathy, ever-so sexy Swedish-accented voice, she is saying to me, "Close your eyes. Open your mouth. You are in ecstasy! Show me ecstasy!"
ps...The Trainer receives full credit for the state of my legs in this photo, see going to the gym pays off!
I've finally done a bit of updating to my professional site AND I'll be guest Mistressing at The Den of Iniquity in Los Angeles October 10th-13th. Aren't you excited? I am!!!
nothing sexy just a bit of self head shrinking, feel free to check back in a day or two for something more interesting.
In about two weeks it will be a full year since I left Craig. About a month ago, it was four years since my mother died. I still haven't gotten her gravestone erected. Obvious psychological block compounded by guilt. I turned 30 about four months ago. There are so many dumb little things that we make our personal landmarks in time. Lola (my french bulldog godchild) may be pregnant and one of the puppies may be marked for me. So in about two months I may have a french bulldog puppy. As if I were ready for that kind of responsibility!
Have you wanted to, but never did because you were told that there's a blue, purple, or red dye that will colour the water if you do? I don't know if you've heard it, but I was told that line as a kid. I always believed it, too.She maintains that she never put it to the test. I, however was not the same type of child. I was about 5 or 6 and my mother and Aunt June were playing cards (most likely canasta or may I, why don't I have weekly card games?) in her glassed in back deck. So they had a basic view of me, but had I started drowning, it would have taken some time to get to me. Before I got in the pool, Aunt June told me that peeing was not permitted in her pool. She said I better not, because if I did, a big black circle would form in the water right around me and she would know. I solemnly nodded my head and then bounced off into the backyard to get in the pool. Approximately twenty minutes later I burst into the room where they were playing cards and shrieked, "You lied Aunt June! You lied! There wasn't any black ring!" Luckily, rather than being angry at me, they laughed and asked why I had peed in the pool and I readily admitted that I wanted to see the black ring. THAT was the type of child I was.
I probably wouldn't have done it myself, but I used to look around in the pool as a kid passed by to see if a coloured streak followed the kid while swimming. That way, I'd know if they peed in the pool, and I'd know to avoid that area while swimming.
Obviously that had nothing to do with the fact that I was naked. But then other than the fact that I'm lacking tan lines, a naked vacation is the same as a clothed one. As my friend who organizes these trips is fond of saying, anything you can do clothed you can do naked. Nudity juxtaposed with atypical activity highlights included a celebrity homes bus tour (when someone emails it to me, I'll post a pic of myself and a friend in front of Elvis Presley's honeymoon home) and a naked dance/karaoke party. I had a great time at the party. I don't think I've ever danced nude before. And while I typically not only hate karaoke, but the people who actually do karaoke, I guess I was caught up in the spirit of things and was roped into participating in a group rendition of The B-52's Love Shack. No, I can't really believe I did it either.
Also of note regarding my last rant about online dating, I obviously jinxed myself because I haven't gotten laid (via online dating)since I posted that.
Just wanted to let you know the panties are GREAT! When I got back into my office, I shut the door and sniffed your sweet juice for a few minutes and then rubbed it all over my cock. Then when I got home I put them on and wore them around the house for a while. We'll have to meet again soon...I've been so excited and amused about this project that I've told practically everyone I know. My friend's responses vary. A totally vanilla female friend was incredibly skeeved. "He has your DNA!" she shrieked. I highly doubt that cloning is on his to do list. My male friends are particularly intrigued with the potential for profit. Much more than my female friends, they've asked how many inquiries I've received, how much the panties cost, how long I need to wear them, can I sell more than one pair a day?
I then ran off to Brooklyn Heights to participate in this photography project: Uncovered: Celebrating Women in NYC shot by Jordan Matter. I honestly had a blast. The photographer is handling the shoots in two ways, either locations he has been eyeing or something personal to the subject. He was very excited about the fact that I'm a domme and asked if I would be comfortable somehow incorporating that into the shoot. Thus I ended up strolling down a residential block in thigh high leather boots, a jean skirt, corset (with my breasts strategically uncovered), with a patent leather cat o'nine dangling from my wrist.
Ironically the shot that actually aroused attention from the cops and ultimately ended our shoot was me in flip flops, bare legs, jean skirt, a pony tail and glasses reading the NY Times outside of the Brooklyn supreme court. An extremely interesting note is that the cops never spoke a word to me or even approached me. They went straight for the photographer. But wasn't it my bare breasts causing the disturbance?
Then it was back into the city for more Asian Film Fest. Tonight's viewings are One Night in Mongkok and Arahan. I won a dvd! There are drawings for prizes at the start of each flick and I could believe the other night Craig AND his gf both won stuff. That was of course a few days after he ended up unintentionally sitting next to me. I will not allow his presence to ruin this terrific film fest for me!
Survive Style 5+
I still have plans for at least:
One Night in Mongkok
Eleven flicks in less than two weeks might seem like a lot to the uninitiated, but that's only a third of the offerings and I'm certain I'll end up at more than what I've listed here.
Sunday afternoon a male friend and I spent hours discussing our online dating exploits. My constant whine (I know you've all heard this before) is that getting laid is not a problem. I'm female, call it the power of the pussy if you must, but I can get laid in a heartbeat; finding someone whose company I really enjoy remains a formidable task. Is it just an NYC thing, a 2005 thing or an online thing that when either of us actually goes on these dates sex is practically inevitable. Maybe it is the screening process, by the time you agree to go out with someone from online, you already know a bit about them and find them attractive enough to meet up with. Or maybe we are both just total sluts.
In the midst of the madness that was prepping for the Ball, I did actually find time to do some random fun things, including attending a night of music created with gameboys from these people. I also went to the movies quite a bit, the best things I saw were Mad Hot Ballroom & Layer Cake. I discovered a bar with a rooftop garden literally a stone's throw from my apt but the thing that excites me the most is the upcoming New York Asian Film Festival. Pity the three friends with me when I finally picked up a hard copy of the schedule and movie descriptions on Sunday afternoon. I spent the next hour reading aloud nearly every synopsis and encouraging them to choose which ones they might like.
I'm so lucky my friends adore me. Finding people to attend close to 30 films with me within a span of less than two weeks is not an easy endeavor. Sure the ex will be at most of the flicks I've chosen, but we will not be sitting together this year and while I can handle watching a flick alone, I hate not having anyone to discuss it with afterward. My hunt for a boy who likes the same kind of movies I do, can engage in a decent intelligent conversation and is hot enough to make me swoon continues. Wait, I found that guy, he just isn't interested in me "like that." So allow me to revise my manhunt wishlist by adding killer kisser, cuddle champion, a lack of relationship fear, oh and of course, an unwavering attraction to me.
I apologize to the fetishists seeking a blow by blow of the events I attended this week. Honestly, I was so exhausted and working so hard, it is really all a blur of lacing up my boots and tightening my corsets over and over again.
I had another "wearing fetish gear is perfectly normal" moment over at Rubbercat. I was wearing a short blue latex dress, a black brocade corset and six-inch heels. A guy that I had found adorably attractive when he entered, stopped to chat a moment with me on his way out. I invited him out for a drink and we talked while he waited for me to be "off-duty." Once I had finished, I told him to wait just another minute so that I could change. Afterward I wondered if he had met me in jeans, a black t-shirt, my leather jacket and flip-flops if our initial chemistry would have been the same. It just never occurred to me while I was, that I was hitting on someone with my cleavage and the the length of my legs on full display. He was intelligent, amusing (and as previously mentioned, quite adorable). Too bad he doesn't live in this country.
I'm accepting calls via niteflirt again. Today's most interesting was a guy calling to ask if I had any experience combining viagra with cock & ball torture. Basically he keeps losing his hard-on during cbt, even though he maintains that he is still completely aroused. His mistress continues to follow his body's cues rather than his verbal feedback and eases up or stops completely. I told him to see his doc, get a scrip and go for it. BDSM is just another flavor of sexuality (he responded to that comment by telling me BDSM is an advanced form of sexuality, at which I laughed) and if the stimulus he is receiving does in fact turn him on, the viagra should work the same way it would for a vanilla guy getting a blowjob. I'm looking forward to his followup call on this little experiment.
Mother's Day. The first time I attempted to visit my mom's grave was on a rainy mother's day. I remember being soaked, holding flowers and waiting for the train. Everything had gone wrong timewise that day and I never actually made it. I'm confident that there was an element of selfsabotage at work, as I do not think I was ready to face her grave or really that she was not on some extended vacation.
More and more of my friends have given birth and therefore become moms. Ironically, my two closest friends to have had children are both women who maintained that they would never do so. I on the otherhand, was always certain that I would have children. I always thought that 31 or 32 was the right age for me to do that. Potentially arbitrarily chosen, but most likely because my mom was 31 when she had me. I feel relatively confident that I'll be pushing that timeline back a bit. Someone recently asked me what I wanted to be a decade from now. For a moment I didn't know how to answer and then epiphany style I realized that the only thing I did know about that far in the future was that I would like to be a mother by then. Since I am single, my friend then asked if I would be willing to do it on my own. I said no. I laughed and said that I would like a partner for this particular endeavor.
It was good and fun and possibly an important experience for me. Our play was relatively brief, but intense (for both of us, I think). It was great to totally improvise as I had no toys at home. Rope bondage is not my forte, but it was nice to know that those skills aren't rusted out. Mac geeks will appreciate that I bound his wrists and ankles with the old style blue & white G3 power cords (translucent blue and quite thick). His bondage was not elaborate, but very secure. His descent into "subspace" was fast and deep, though he was relatively nonverbal, his body was very responsive. There was slapping, spanking, much pinching, hair pulling (and pulling out), fire and cigarette play. Our play was at times severe but always sensual. Granted, I am something of a safety nazi and I don't believe in permanent damage, but the awareness that I could truly do anything I wanted to him was incredible. I had only the vaguest sense of both his limits and interests. It was truly about me hurting him for my own pleasure and amusement. And that was hot.
I'm dogsitting for Lola, the absolutely amazing and killer cute French Bulldog. She'll be with me tonight at the door of Rubbercat, if you'd like to meet her. Be forewarned, you will fall in love.
I had an amazingly fun session the other day. I've never listed tickle torture among my interests or specialites, but perhaps I should, now that I'm regularly sporting a set of talons. First off, my client was outrageously sensitive and very responsive to the lightest touch. I've always enjoyed sensation play and a responsive sub, but this guy was overwhelmed. I have such a long reach and while he was bound face down, the combination of my nails teasing behind his left ear at the same time as his right ankle had him pleading, begging and writhing. I so love to see that kind of helplessness! He never knew where I might touch him next; his fear and excitement were palpable.
Despite the bizarre resemblence to my ex's current gf, I thought it had come out nicely. Yes it has fetishy overtones, but I still felt the image (by Lochai) qualified as "fine art." It seems the staff at ARTnews did not agree. The day after I submitted the ad I was woken up by by a phone call wherein it was explained to me that their readership might be "uncomfortable" with the ad as it stood. I was dead asleep when this call came in and I am not the final decision maker about advertising the studio, so I told the chick I'd speak with my boss and call her back. Now the thing to realize is that of the images in this show that I have seen thus far, this was certainly the tamest. When designing the ad, my other option was a chick wearing a gas mask cradling a blowup doll also sporting a gas mask. Wonder what their readers would think about that one...
So I start looking at the image trying to figure out what was so offensive about it. Is it the fact that the girl looks so young? It isn't like they called and asked for the model's ID. Bare boobs? The last ad I designed for them had bare breasts. Once I was properly caffeinated, I called back. I explained the relative tameness and asked what precisely was their issue with the image. Could I kill some of the contrast? Maybe if the image wasn't so prominent, would they let me use it? The answer was no. They suggested (and as you can see below in the censored version)
that I use detail from the image rather than the whole. Are you ready for what their problem was? Her "gesture" as they delicately phrased it. I guess somehow having your hand over your crotch is the borderline between "fine art" and pornography. Someone I work with had the best innocent exclamation in response to this whole situation, she said "But you can see all of her fingers! It isn't like she's doing anything."
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: I turn 30 in less than two weeks. The time for shopping is now.
I know this may seem silly, but I got the most amazing manicure yesterday. I need to take a photo. My nails are a touch longer than usual and an incredible metallic shade of burgundy. The color is called Gash from Urban Decay and I swear they look like porn star nails. They are just so hot and so sexy it is ridiculous. Every movement with them is intrinsically sexual. I'm not exaggerating, I keep catching sight of them and being entranced by them.
Mistress Evita's Party - m4wUm hello? I was enforcing the dresscode, EVERYONE was wearing leather & latex!!!! Furthering the concept that kinky people are lonely too, I came across this one too:
Original URL: http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/mis/66321301.html
Posted by: email@example.com
Posted on: 2005-03-31, 2:00PM
You sexy, wearing leather and latex, stockings and great boots. me, hot, dark hair, all in leather, with needing to submit look in eyes....
Original URL: http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/mis/66154666.html
Posted by: firstname.lastname@example.org
Posted on: 2005-03-30, 1:33PM
Hey--I worked briefly as a dom and I had a hot warden/prisoner session in Mid-town with a young, handsome brunette who said he lived in the area. At the time I was a platinum blond, busty, wearing a leather dress. I am no longer working there, however, I have an interest in the scene, and I thought we had a decent connection and a good rapport. If this posting finds you--doubtful, I'm sure--and you don't find this extremely unprofessional of me--please drop me a line. At the very least, I'd like to have a friend or two on the scene--;)
There was one incident last night of an entirely personal nature that utterly bewildered me. My ex and I had arranged for him to drop by to pick up a CD from me. He did, we chatted for a bit and engaged in the now typical, bizarrely comfortable banter. On one hand it makes sense, we were together and best friends for so long and know each other so well. But of course in some ways things are still very awkward between us, it has only been six months since I left him. The prearranged visit was not problematic. However his return with his 19-year-old gf, who was a member of our staff and still works at the shop is what disconcerted me. Somewhere is the depths of the shop they dug up a silver bustier/zip up corset and matching zip-crotch pants. And decided for reasons not even vaguely understood by me to bring her over to show me. Their pretext was something along the lines of that they dressed her up to use the bathroom at Opaline. Whatever. The top was on backwards. They thought that the zippers should match up, but there were cups for her nonexistent breasts bagging a bit against her back. Am I wrong in thinking that this was inappropriate? I know a priori that it was his idea. She was just his little dress-up toy. What the fuck was he thinking? Oooooh she can wear fetishy stuff too? Somehow it is this foolishness that hurts me. Is it because I have not yet found someone to hatch ridiculous plans with?