I'm headed to Austin, TX Monday 12/18-20th. My slave is going on a business trip and I'm hitching along because a-whenelse would I ever end up in Texas?, b-I can. I'll be available for sessions while I'm there. I'm looking forward to the change of scenery, though it is only two months since my whirlwind Chicago/Vegas/LA tour, I'm no longer quite as enamoured with NYC as I used to be. It isn't any particular thing I can point to and as a native NYer, I've never thought about really living anywhere else. Two months here and six months there, sure, but I always knew I was coming home to NYC.
I wonder if part of the reason I'm blogging so infrequently is a self censoring thing. As more and more of my audience is my clients these days rather than my friends or completely anonymous strangers, topics that I might have chosen to write about a few years ago seem inappropriate or uninteresting.
Tuesday
Saturday
Attractive
One of my favorite posters over on maxfisch has a thread currently going that really intrigued me.
Though I haven't chimed in on the thread, it brought up many thoughts for me. The bulk of my clients are hard from the moment I enter the room. Imagine how shocking it was for me to have to put in effort to elict a hard-on from a vanilla boyfriend (not the current love of my life). One of the ways that I explain who/what I am/do as a pro-domme is that I am my client's ultimate unattainable fantasy woman. So clearly, that is rooted in sexual desire. Then there is the clothing I wear in session: corsets with my breasts spilling over the top, mini skirts just covering my ass, seven-inch heels elongating my legs and tensing them just so. Obviously I am dressed to appeal. But then there are the incredibly intense sessions I've done in regular clothes. Perhaps even more so, because I was not in a costume.
I've also been known to say that novice clients tend to choose the domme they'd most like to fuck, while a more experienced sub will choose a domme based on her skills or their chemistry. So many of my clients these days cite this blog as "the reason" they chose me, that or the fact that they'd never seen a pair of legs like mine. When I was still a house domme, we'd do this group consultation, endearingly called the "pussy parade." Everyone on shift got dressed in full gear and each of us went in to chat with the client for a moment. This was a very long time ago and I'd only been working as a domme for a short time. Mistress Maxine (who has remained one of my best friends ever and has just recently come back to the scene)is a barbie doll brought to life. Tall, thin, big boobed, long legged with a huge mane of (then blond) hair. Though I adored her personally, I'd worked with her for months and never been chosen from a parade we were both in. The first time we both met a client and he chose me, I was so surprised. Was he high? No. As I know these days, attraction is absolutely individual. And our styles of play are quite different. I'll never know why that client chose me that day, but it was a pivotal moment for me. It could have been as simple as the color of my hair, the tone of my voice or the way I looked into his eyes. But it taught me something as both a domme and a woman about the mercurial nature of attractiveness. No one can know what will turn one man's head and not another.
Though I haven't chimed in on the thread, it brought up many thoughts for me. The bulk of my clients are hard from the moment I enter the room. Imagine how shocking it was for me to have to put in effort to elict a hard-on from a vanilla boyfriend (not the current love of my life). One of the ways that I explain who/what I am/do as a pro-domme is that I am my client's ultimate unattainable fantasy woman. So clearly, that is rooted in sexual desire. Then there is the clothing I wear in session: corsets with my breasts spilling over the top, mini skirts just covering my ass, seven-inch heels elongating my legs and tensing them just so. Obviously I am dressed to appeal. But then there are the incredibly intense sessions I've done in regular clothes. Perhaps even more so, because I was not in a costume.
I've also been known to say that novice clients tend to choose the domme they'd most like to fuck, while a more experienced sub will choose a domme based on her skills or their chemistry. So many of my clients these days cite this blog as "the reason" they chose me, that or the fact that they'd never seen a pair of legs like mine. When I was still a house domme, we'd do this group consultation, endearingly called the "pussy parade." Everyone on shift got dressed in full gear and each of us went in to chat with the client for a moment. This was a very long time ago and I'd only been working as a domme for a short time. Mistress Maxine (who has remained one of my best friends ever and has just recently come back to the scene)is a barbie doll brought to life. Tall, thin, big boobed, long legged with a huge mane of (then blond) hair. Though I adored her personally, I'd worked with her for months and never been chosen from a parade we were both in. The first time we both met a client and he chose me, I was so surprised. Was he high? No. As I know these days, attraction is absolutely individual. And our styles of play are quite different. I'll never know why that client chose me that day, but it was a pivotal moment for me. It could have been as simple as the color of my hair, the tone of my voice or the way I looked into his eyes. But it taught me something as both a domme and a woman about the mercurial nature of attractiveness. No one can know what will turn one man's head and not another.
Tuesday
Yeah, yeah I know...you're feeling neglected
I'm not gonna deny that it has been too long since my last post.
Since then I:
-became a legally licensed driver (my license had been revoked for about a decade)
-sessioned in Chicago, Las Vegas and LA.
-shot an M-16 machine gun.
-obtained a blackberry.
-learned how to play craps.
-bought a Louis Vuitton Taiga Kendall GM (graciously paid for by the MGM Grand blackjack tables).
-got addicted to Dexter.
-discovered that the lollicockmakes an excellent gag.
Since then I:
-became a legally licensed driver (my license had been revoked for about a decade)
-sessioned in Chicago, Las Vegas and LA.
-shot an M-16 machine gun.
-obtained a blackberry.
-learned how to play craps.
-bought a Louis Vuitton Taiga Kendall GM (graciously paid for by the MGM Grand blackjack tables).
-got addicted to Dexter.
-discovered that the lollicockmakes an excellent gag.
Thursday
Back from Portland, off to the Hamptons...again
I don't know how I became a once a month blogger, or really not even that, as I missed July entirely. Once again, the bulk of my summer is being spent in the hamptons. Since late June I've only been in the city 2 or 3 days a week. I'm being terribly responsible about updating my schedule on the contact page of my site. I must say that I miss my apt and the city in general. I feel like I get back into town, make plans to see a few friends, session like crazy and head right back to the beach. Add to that the week I just spent in Portland, OR and perhaps you'll understand why I hid out like a hermit in my apt for most of yesterday (that and the obscene heat of course).
I had such an amazing time in Portland, both personally and professionally! The first part of my stay was at McMenamins Edgefield to attend a college friend's wedding. Every Oregonian I met was overwhelmingly nice and friendly! Complete strangers consistently went out of their way to assist me, even beyond the hotel grounds. At first I had been apprehensive about staying there due to the "European Style" accommodations (ie: shared bathrooms) however it wasn't bad at all. After the wedding, I moved to a four star hotel in downtown Portland...much more my style! As I had been unable to arrange a dungeon rental, I sessioned my from hotel room. I don't know if I was just in rare form or what, but every session I did there was incredibly intense in its own way. Someone who had heard of me via the cannibal fantasies thread on Katharine Gates'Deviant Desires board actually drove down from Seattle to session with me. We'd corresponded months ago but being on opposite coasts, didn't know when we'd ever meet.
I had an odd sensation one evening after spending five hours in session that day. I had been utterly immersed in the darkest regions of my clients' sexual psyche for so long that my post-session decompression was intense in itself. I changed, washed off my makeup and headed out of the hotel aimlessly. I just needed to get outside and walk the city's streets alone.
Portland may be known as the city of roses, a well-planned city and a mecca for lesbians, however I found it to be the city of breakfast! We ate at The Cricket Cafe, Fat Albert's Breakfast Cafe and The Black Rabbit. Each place was phenomenal!
My companion had never seen the Pacific Ocean, so our last afternoon was spent driving to and from the coast in our adorable rental car. We headed up to Astoria, OR, where The Goonies was filmed. Here's a much more devout and ambitious fan's photo tour. Seeing the town and spots I recognized from the movie was fun, but it was the drive out there and back that I really enjoyed. We passed through several state forests which were shockingly beautiful and hit a roadside stand for what were quite possibly the best and freshest cherries, blueberries and strawberries I'd ever had! We also climbed the Astoria column for breathtaking views.
I had such an amazing time in Portland, both personally and professionally! The first part of my stay was at McMenamins Edgefield to attend a college friend's wedding. Every Oregonian I met was overwhelmingly nice and friendly! Complete strangers consistently went out of their way to assist me, even beyond the hotel grounds. At first I had been apprehensive about staying there due to the "European Style" accommodations (ie: shared bathrooms) however it wasn't bad at all. After the wedding, I moved to a four star hotel in downtown Portland...much more my style! As I had been unable to arrange a dungeon rental, I sessioned my from hotel room. I don't know if I was just in rare form or what, but every session I did there was incredibly intense in its own way. Someone who had heard of me via the cannibal fantasies thread on Katharine Gates'Deviant Desires board actually drove down from Seattle to session with me. We'd corresponded months ago but being on opposite coasts, didn't know when we'd ever meet.
I had an odd sensation one evening after spending five hours in session that day. I had been utterly immersed in the darkest regions of my clients' sexual psyche for so long that my post-session decompression was intense in itself. I changed, washed off my makeup and headed out of the hotel aimlessly. I just needed to get outside and walk the city's streets alone.
Portland may be known as the city of roses, a well-planned city and a mecca for lesbians, however I found it to be the city of breakfast! We ate at The Cricket Cafe, Fat Albert's Breakfast Cafe and The Black Rabbit. Each place was phenomenal!
My companion had never seen the Pacific Ocean, so our last afternoon was spent driving to and from the coast in our adorable rental car. We headed up to Astoria, OR, where The Goonies was filmed. Here's a much more devout and ambitious fan's photo tour. Seeing the town and spots I recognized from the movie was fun, but it was the drive out there and back that I really enjoyed. We passed through several state forests which were shockingly beautiful and hit a roadside stand for what were quite possibly the best and freshest cherries, blueberries and strawberries I'd ever had! We also climbed the Astoria column for breathtaking views.
Tuesday
"To the hustlas, killers, murderers, drug dealers even the strippers"
Last Friday I attended Mistress Sade's demo for domsub friends on anal play at Paddles. As I've experience in this area myself and we've discussed this type of play at length, I was really there more for moral support than anything else. She was, as expected, terrific.
Afterward a few of us went out...sometime around 2am myself, Sade, Kho, Freya and Alice arrived at Scandals. I've been to high-end strip clubs and to bottom of the barrel, all-nude pre-"Times Square Clean Up" joints. This club, essentially under the 59th St Bridge in Long Island City, fell somewhere in the middle. I was surprised and amused by the free valet parking. We had been at the bar for less than a minute when a drunk guy with an Irish accent asked if he could buy me a drink. I told him I'd already ordered one, and turned away from him, which essentially translates to "Go the fuck away." What kind of guy hits on a chick IN A STRIP CLUB???? Sade really wanted to see some impressive pole-dancing, unfortunately none of the women we saw had any real skill. The women got off the stage and made their way along the moat between the stage and the bar accepting tips by pulling the dollars from our fingers with their breats. It was fascinating how most of the dancers gave an individual jiggle, wink and smile to each of us and were rewarded with their tip from our stacks of singles on the bar, while others rushed past the five of us without even glancing in our direction. In a way we were easy marks, I certainly didn't have the heart to stiff any of the girls who made eye contact with me. Particularly since it was so cheap! Single dollar tips seemed to be the norm. I actually gave several dollars to a particularly limber petite Russian girl who had done some acrobatics for a guy several seats down from us, who then didn't tip her at all. When I went downstairs to the bathroom, I spied the "Champagne Room". Or, more accurately the door with gold-tone self-adhesive letters designating it as such. As I walked past I could see that the men's room was really large, seemed clean and had an attendant. The ladies room, by contrast, was really just a filthy closet with a toilet and sink in it. After about an hour, my wallet was $45 lighter and though my prurient desires hadn't really been met, we left.
I wish I had a "listening to" option. Right now it's "I'm N Luv (Wit A Stripper)" by T-Pain.
Afterward a few of us went out...sometime around 2am myself, Sade, Kho, Freya and Alice arrived at Scandals. I've been to high-end strip clubs and to bottom of the barrel, all-nude pre-"Times Square Clean Up" joints. This club, essentially under the 59th St Bridge in Long Island City, fell somewhere in the middle. I was surprised and amused by the free valet parking. We had been at the bar for less than a minute when a drunk guy with an Irish accent asked if he could buy me a drink. I told him I'd already ordered one, and turned away from him, which essentially translates to "Go the fuck away." What kind of guy hits on a chick IN A STRIP CLUB???? Sade really wanted to see some impressive pole-dancing, unfortunately none of the women we saw had any real skill. The women got off the stage and made their way along the moat between the stage and the bar accepting tips by pulling the dollars from our fingers with their breats. It was fascinating how most of the dancers gave an individual jiggle, wink and smile to each of us and were rewarded with their tip from our stacks of singles on the bar, while others rushed past the five of us without even glancing in our direction. In a way we were easy marks, I certainly didn't have the heart to stiff any of the girls who made eye contact with me. Particularly since it was so cheap! Single dollar tips seemed to be the norm. I actually gave several dollars to a particularly limber petite Russian girl who had done some acrobatics for a guy several seats down from us, who then didn't tip her at all. When I went downstairs to the bathroom, I spied the "Champagne Room". Or, more accurately the door with gold-tone self-adhesive letters designating it as such. As I walked past I could see that the men's room was really large, seemed clean and had an attendant. The ladies room, by contrast, was really just a filthy closet with a toilet and sink in it. After about an hour, my wallet was $45 lighter and though my prurient desires hadn't really been met, we left.
I wish I had a "listening to" option. Right now it's "I'm N Luv (Wit A Stripper)" by T-Pain.
Catching Up With Octavia Arena
I've been so incredibly busy and life has been so blogworthy, that I didn't want to write a half assed entry...so I haven't written one at all. I wanted to tell you, in detail, about The Ball, my trip to Miami, the wonderful sessions I did there, my fast headspace switch back to nanny in the Hamptons, Leather Pride Night and what I think about sessioning with guys from what I consider my dating pool. But guess what? I never got around to it. And now all those things seems like ancient history already.
So here's a few thoughts, just so you know I'm still here. I'm sessioning. A lot. Who knows how often you think pro-dommes work. The truth is that it is the same as any other kind of freelance work (expect perhaps that my per hour take home pay is probably significantly higher than most). I can earn a grand in one evening and then not work for three weeks. But lately that is not the case, in fact, I've been seeing clients nearly daily. Far from burning out, playing so often has only made me love what I do so much more. I won't accept appointments for sessions that are incompatible with my own interests. Why bother? I'm not interested in just seeing someone once for a session neither of us enjoyed. I much prefer a client who I can really play with, push to new levels and basically grow with. It isn't just about having a masochist suffer more and more for me, (though I won't deny how much I love that) it is the trust that is built only over time. Chemistry is always key and sure you can tell immediately if it is there or not, however, when I'm in session with the men that I play with regularly the intensity is entirely different.
In the last couple of weeks I've done several family-themed roleplays. I've been the sexy, bratty niece teaching her uncle how to be a slut, the angry sister-in-law punishing her sister's husband for his infidelity, the nurturing mommy assuring her son that his transgression hurt her far more than the spanking she is administering hurts him and the older sister who caught her brother wearing her panties. As an only child who has not yet had any children, I don't even qualify for three of the four roles I played.
So here's a few thoughts, just so you know I'm still here. I'm sessioning. A lot. Who knows how often you think pro-dommes work. The truth is that it is the same as any other kind of freelance work (expect perhaps that my per hour take home pay is probably significantly higher than most). I can earn a grand in one evening and then not work for three weeks. But lately that is not the case, in fact, I've been seeing clients nearly daily. Far from burning out, playing so often has only made me love what I do so much more. I won't accept appointments for sessions that are incompatible with my own interests. Why bother? I'm not interested in just seeing someone once for a session neither of us enjoyed. I much prefer a client who I can really play with, push to new levels and basically grow with. It isn't just about having a masochist suffer more and more for me, (though I won't deny how much I love that) it is the trust that is built only over time. Chemistry is always key and sure you can tell immediately if it is there or not, however, when I'm in session with the men that I play with regularly the intensity is entirely different.
In the last couple of weeks I've done several family-themed roleplays. I've been the sexy, bratty niece teaching her uncle how to be a slut, the angry sister-in-law punishing her sister's husband for his infidelity, the nurturing mommy assuring her son that his transgression hurt her far more than the spanking she is administering hurts him and the older sister who caught her brother wearing her panties. As an only child who has not yet had any children, I don't even qualify for three of the four roles I played.
Wednesday
This is just to say...
yes, I'm still alive. Preparations for The Ball have taken over my life. And though the doors open in less than 48 hours, I have no idea what I'll be wearing. Of course my phone continues to ring off the hook with session inquiries, precisely when I am not accepting appointments until Friday. I'm also available this weekend, however Monday morning I am off to Miami! I'll be there and available for sessions in Ft. Lauderdale through Friday June 9th. I've had a bizarre increase in requests for travel to Boston. Quite possibly my least favorite city ever. Not going to happen. Sorry slaves in Beantown, make your way to NYC.
Friday
The Post-Session Email
I love hearing how my clients feel about our sessions. This is a note I received the other day:
Mistress,
Please do not misinterpret my silence of the last several days. It does not signify indifference to You or to our last session. I have had a lot to do, at home and at work. I have tried to be responsible, and have often been very tired when I go to bed. But I have been sorely tempted to chuck the responsible behavior and write long emails to You. Just so You know.
I totally loved that session, even though roleplays appeal to us so much that we both want to return to them. I’m not used to playing myself but, as I mentioned, not having to think in role was a bit easier mentally, and allowed me to concentrate on the sensations and the mind fuck. And there were plenty of those.
The ice and hot wax didn’t hurt, but they did feel weird and spooky, especially in sequence. You seemed surprised that I didn’t find them painful. Do other guys react more strongly?
No one has tickled me for many years, so I had forgotten how I react to it. You looked as if You had a lot of fun, so I guess trying to convince You not to tickle me in future would be a waste of time?
You had threatened so much ball-kicking over the previous weeks that I was certain You would do it. Object lesson in not second-guessing Mistress Octavia. Instead: CBT and NT with Your nails, the Wartenburg wheel, and Your new toy, the Cobra Stinger. Fear-inducing, alternately and unpredictably pleasant and painful sensations. I still shudder thinking about it.
In contrast, there is nothing pleasant about being spanked and caned. Just sharp pain, mitigated only by its brevity. You are gauging the duration and intensity well. I was at the edge of needing to say “Red”, but I managed to hold on, for the sake of Your fun and my self-respect.
Of course, the sensation play and corporal punishment were accompanied by a big helping of bondage and humiliation. Allowing You to tie me up brings home more than anything else that I am helpless, completely in Your power, dependent on Your skill, experience, and sanity to emerge undamaged at the other end. It is more than just a transfer of power - it’s a leap of faith, a statement of trust.
When I mentioned later that evening that Your legs were outrageous, I didn’t mean just how they look. My God, woman, You pinned me down with one leg, and I couldn’t do a thing about it! Talk about feeling humiliated and totally inferior! You are a Goddess and an Amazon, and I am nowhere in Your league, but I have to talk this over with my trainer at the gym. I can’t continue to let You toy with me like this.
Worshipping Your ass and feet is both a privilege and a sensual pleasure for me. It would also be an intolerable humiliation, except that, for some strange reason, I enjoy being humiliated by You. It’s just part of the natural order of things. BTW, Your feet are so long that, when I lick slowly, it seems to take an eternity to get from one end to another. Count me among those who admire Your feet for both their beauty and their size.
The trampling and breast smothering were awesome. They are among the most potent weapons in Your arsenal, because they start out feeling gentle and soft, but can suddenly turn dangerous. I very much appreciate the care with which You have used those weapons. It seemed this time as if You were attempting to cut off my breath for a few seconds. It was genuinely frightening! The ideal pressure, from my POV, is tight enough that I can’t escape without strength fueled by panic and adrenaline. I know that You could overwhelm that, too, but I hope You will resist the temptation; my daughter is counting on a few more years of tuition payments. And corpses are so inconvenient.
Breast smothering is not only a form of humiliation, but tease and denial as well. Once or twice You also put your face close to mine and stared straight into my eyes. In the abstract I know that I should keep my hands (and lips) to myself, but temptation seems to follow the inverse square rule. I feel like I’m in a classic approach-avoidance conflict. Lab rats placed in such conflict tend to become paralyzed by confusion or totally neurotic.
Not that that was the only way You were screwing with my mind. You actually had me convinced that I had made You angry and You were punishing me. You were very insightful in making me list the possible reasons and letting me stew in the possibilities by not confirming. This succeeded because I am so anxious to please You, so concerned about messing up our relationship, somewhat na¿ve (just as you said) … and because You are so convincing. Well, You can laugh at me now, Mistress, but I guarantee You that I won’t fall for this ploy again for at least 3 months.
Last year that session would have been wonderful. After a drought of 7 months, I felt exhilarated and restored.
You are exceptionally talented, Mistress, in mind, body, and spirit. I am grateful for my good fortune in finding You. I hope that I continue to be fun for You to play with, and hope that we have many years ahead of us, as domme/sub and as friends.
Saturday
I'm the Best Cyber-Stalker You Know!
My birthday was phenomenal. I was surrounded by some of the people I love most in the world. It was an impromptu gathering of a dozen people for dinner expanding to about two dozen for drinks afterward. It also seems that my invitation to explore my wishlist was taken seriously, as amazon boxes continue to arrive!
I've been told by several friends that I'm the best cyber-stalker they know. Is it a crime to know how to use google? Researching topics (or people) I find interesting is just a part of my nature. When my parents' marriage ended, I went to the library and sat down with a few books on divorce. Research equals knowledge, that's all. So is it somehow creepy that I found the myspace profiles of my two most recent "crushes" (ie: guys I do not know at all but find kinda cute and interesting)? I don't think so. Maybe the fact that I messaged them could be construed as such.
What I find bizarre is that they both cook for a living. The first is Sam Mason, the pastry chef at wd-50. Before I even knew that he was adorable, I was falling in love with his palate-exploding deserts. I still eat there on a semi-regular basis. I've never gone in just to see him, THAT would be psychotic. I have however, just gone in for desert. Here is his myspace profile.
The other is a touch more embarrassing. Remember how I finally got cable a few months ago? Well...I seem to have become a fan of Top Chef, in particular, of Harold Dieterle.
Random thing...I'm out nannying in the Hamptons this weekend. Am I a total pervert or just a multitasking thinker? While I was playing with the kids on the swingset this afternoon, I was admiring my pedicure and thinking what a great photoshoot I could do there.
I've been told by several friends that I'm the best cyber-stalker they know. Is it a crime to know how to use google? Researching topics (or people) I find interesting is just a part of my nature. When my parents' marriage ended, I went to the library and sat down with a few books on divorce. Research equals knowledge, that's all. So is it somehow creepy that I found the myspace profiles of my two most recent "crushes" (ie: guys I do not know at all but find kinda cute and interesting)? I don't think so. Maybe the fact that I messaged them could be construed as such.
What I find bizarre is that they both cook for a living. The first is Sam Mason, the pastry chef at wd-50. Before I even knew that he was adorable, I was falling in love with his palate-exploding deserts. I still eat there on a semi-regular basis. I've never gone in just to see him, THAT would be psychotic. I have however, just gone in for desert. Here is his myspace profile.
The other is a touch more embarrassing. Remember how I finally got cable a few months ago? Well...I seem to have become a fan of Top Chef, in particular, of Harold Dieterle.
Random thing...I'm out nannying in the Hamptons this weekend. Am I a total pervert or just a multitasking thinker? While I was playing with the kids on the swingset this afternoon, I was admiring my pedicure and thinking what a great photoshoot I could do there.
Friday
Inspiration--Many Forms
Honestly there have been a bunch of topics floating around my brain (bleeding, if you will...hehehehe) but I haven't gotten around to actually writing about them.
If this were a school paper I'd create an outline and flesh it out appropriately...
Ok let's see if I can actually maintain this steam and say what I've got to say about ALL of the above topics....
Awhile back I did an impromptu Violet Wand demo over at Rapture. As I'm sure I've mentioned a gadzillion times, the Wand is one of my favorite toys. Sheer versatility...the ability to move from sensual to severe (isn't that just THE MOST overused phrase in domme advertising???) but it's true; I can deliver a delicious gentle spark directly from my nipples (through my corset, you filthy minded thing!) to a sub's back or make him scream and writhe. I included a bit about fireplay at the demo. After putting my training into use, the other day one of them passed a tip back to me that I can not wait to use. Immediately upon hearing this trick of the trade that had never even occurred to me, I was absolutely inspired! I won't go into detail about it here a-I don't want to be responsible for someone untrained trying it and b-if you are so desperate to find out, come session with me! I also really love the synergy of having taught someone something and then re-learning it myself, new and improved!
Shibari 101 is what I'm jokingly calling the hour or so I spent with a close friend the other night. On a weekly basis I turn down at least two or three session requests; if a client's primary interest is rope bondage, I'll tell him straight out that I'm just not the right domme. For many years, I've maintained that rope bondage just isn't my scene. The truth is that I never really learned it properly, had a poor experience in session once and have basically avoided it since. How ridiculous! I'm a pro-domme missing a basic BDSM skill set. After a (thankfully brief) lecture on the merits of hemp rope and how to finish it (which I am certain I will never do) he taught me a few basic knots and ties and suddenly I was full of confidence! It was so simple! So...I'm certainly not an expert (yet!) but my enthusiasm for rope bondage has been rekindled (rather lit for the first time really). Don't be surprised if I'm now finding a way to work ropes into every session I do just for the practice.
We now interrupt this kinky inspiration tirade with a bit about my vanilla day job. Read the first line under the title of the blog again, did you forget that I'm a nanny? I spent last weekend out in the Hamptons with the that family I work for. It was not intentional, but I can not deny that I'm endlessly amused that on Easter Sunday I served the children Matzoh Ball soup for lunch. They'd never had it before and they really liked it. It was good (thank you fresh direct), but couldn't compare to my Mom's. I redeemed my blasphemous act by boiling and dying THREE DOZEN eggs with them later in the afternoon. That was a comedy sketch in itself, as neither their Mom or I cook. The middle child was recently asked in school how long it takes his mother to make dinner, he answered as long as it takes to pick up the phone. I probably had never boiled an egg in my life before this Easter Egg Extravaganza. I filled a large stew? soup? pot with water, set it to boil and then began gently placing all 36 eggs into the boiling water. It turns out that is not the right way to do it. Only 27 eggs made it to the hunt.
I'm taking niteflirt calls regularly again. It sorta blows my mind that I can earn nearly the same amount, laying in bed smoking cigarettes, discussing what I've done in session, as I can actually going into the dungeon and doing a session.
In less than two weeks, May 4th, to be exact, I will turn 31. I believe some shopping is in order. My wishlists are available at Amazon and Fetish Factory. Why are you still reading this? Get shopping!
I will go on about infantilism some other time.
The 13th Black and Blue Ball is June 1st at Avalon. No, I have no idea yet what I'll be wearing. I always approach the Ball with a touch of apprehension. I do so much work for it that as it gets closer, my days become a blur. I've only twice attended as just a guest and truthfully I had a great time those years, but typically I spend the evening running around behind the scenes. I will be there and damn it, I'm going to make some time to enjoy myself this year! Tickets only go up in price as the date nears, so
Wow, I can't believe I've kept my attention focused enough to nearly get through that list! I was given a new toy today. The Cobra Stinger is damn cute, with a mild bite. I adore it and have been toying with it all day.
Ok so I missed infantilism and kinky boots. I'll get to them soon, I promise.
If this were a school paper I'd create an outline and flesh it out appropriately...
- Fire Play
- Shibari 101
- Multi-Culti Easter
- Niteflirt Marathon Calls
- Kinky Boots
- Birthday
- Infantilism
- The Ball
- New Toy!
Ok let's see if I can actually maintain this steam and say what I've got to say about ALL of the above topics....
Awhile back I did an impromptu Violet Wand demo over at Rapture. As I'm sure I've mentioned a gadzillion times, the Wand is one of my favorite toys. Sheer versatility...the ability to move from sensual to severe (isn't that just THE MOST overused phrase in domme advertising???) but it's true; I can deliver a delicious gentle spark directly from my nipples (through my corset, you filthy minded thing!) to a sub's back or make him scream and writhe. I included a bit about fireplay at the demo. After putting my training into use, the other day one of them passed a tip back to me that I can not wait to use. Immediately upon hearing this trick of the trade that had never even occurred to me, I was absolutely inspired! I won't go into detail about it here a-I don't want to be responsible for someone untrained trying it and b-if you are so desperate to find out, come session with me! I also really love the synergy of having taught someone something and then re-learning it myself, new and improved!
Shibari 101 is what I'm jokingly calling the hour or so I spent with a close friend the other night. On a weekly basis I turn down at least two or three session requests; if a client's primary interest is rope bondage, I'll tell him straight out that I'm just not the right domme. For many years, I've maintained that rope bondage just isn't my scene. The truth is that I never really learned it properly, had a poor experience in session once and have basically avoided it since. How ridiculous! I'm a pro-domme missing a basic BDSM skill set. After a (thankfully brief) lecture on the merits of hemp rope and how to finish it (which I am certain I will never do) he taught me a few basic knots and ties and suddenly I was full of confidence! It was so simple! So...I'm certainly not an expert (yet!) but my enthusiasm for rope bondage has been rekindled (rather lit for the first time really). Don't be surprised if I'm now finding a way to work ropes into every session I do just for the practice.
We now interrupt this kinky inspiration tirade with a bit about my vanilla day job. Read the first line under the title of the blog again, did you forget that I'm a nanny? I spent last weekend out in the Hamptons with the that family I work for. It was not intentional, but I can not deny that I'm endlessly amused that on Easter Sunday I served the children Matzoh Ball soup for lunch. They'd never had it before and they really liked it. It was good (thank you fresh direct), but couldn't compare to my Mom's. I redeemed my blasphemous act by boiling and dying THREE DOZEN eggs with them later in the afternoon. That was a comedy sketch in itself, as neither their Mom or I cook. The middle child was recently asked in school how long it takes his mother to make dinner, he answered as long as it takes to pick up the phone. I probably had never boiled an egg in my life before this Easter Egg Extravaganza. I filled a large stew? soup? pot with water, set it to boil and then began gently placing all 36 eggs into the boiling water. It turns out that is not the right way to do it. Only 27 eggs made it to the hunt.
I'm taking niteflirt calls regularly again. It sorta blows my mind that I can earn nearly the same amount, laying in bed smoking cigarettes, discussing what I've done in session, as I can actually going into the dungeon and doing a session.
In less than two weeks, May 4th, to be exact, I will turn 31. I believe some shopping is in order. My wishlists are available at Amazon and Fetish Factory. Why are you still reading this? Get shopping!
I will go on about infantilism some other time.
The 13th Black and Blue Ball is June 1st at Avalon. No, I have no idea yet what I'll be wearing. I always approach the Ball with a touch of apprehension. I do so much work for it that as it gets closer, my days become a blur. I've only twice attended as just a guest and truthfully I had a great time those years, but typically I spend the evening running around behind the scenes. I will be there and damn it, I'm going to make some time to enjoy myself this year! Tickets only go up in price as the date nears, so
Wow, I can't believe I've kept my attention focused enough to nearly get through that list! I was given a new toy today. The Cobra Stinger is damn cute, with a mild bite. I adore it and have been toying with it all day.
Ok so I missed infantilism and kinky boots. I'll get to them soon, I promise.
Tuesday
The Rundown or Basic Things to Know...
about me right now. The Caribbean was amazing as per usual. Yes I'm still tan. Unfortunately I do have tan lines as I only spent one day on the nude beach at Orient Point. I won and actually left a casino with 1500 bucks and would have actually made it home with my winnings if our flight hadn't been cancelled, forcing us to spend the night in St. Maarten. I graciously returned 600 dollars to the casino coffers.
Last weekend I ended things with the sweetest guy I've ever met. He was truly a great guy and will make someone deeply happy, unfortunately I am not that woman.
In a few hours something totally amazing will happen...
On Wednesday, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06. Didn't you ever make a wish when the numbers lined up? Like at 3:45pm?
Last weekend I ended things with the sweetest guy I've ever met. He was truly a great guy and will make someone deeply happy, unfortunately I am not that woman.
In a few hours something totally amazing will happen...
On Wednesday, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06. Didn't you ever make a wish when the numbers lined up? Like at 3:45pm?
Monday
You want me? Skype me!
Yeah, yeah, I know I've been a lazy blogger again. I actually have several unfinished posts, that I will probably get done this week since...I'm in Anguilla! I'm not normally a product hyper, but skype is brilliant. And if you have any desire to speak with me this week, skype is the only way it is gonna happen. (email me for my user name) With everyone having cellphones these days, long distance calling is no longer an issue, unless you are calling internationally. Basically skype is like AIM or any insant message program, however it uses voice. If you are on a pc, you need a microphone in and you can either use your speakers or earphones for audio out. But of course my lovely ibook requires no additional equipment. Its internal mic & speakers work perfectly!
Friday
Damn I Love Foot Fetishists!
I'd have to read through my archives to be sure, but I'm confident that every six months or so I post an "ode to the foot fetishist." Before I became a pro-domme I had only had my toes sucked once. I was in college, on a road trip and my bare feet hanging over the passenger seat proved too much temptation for one of my companions to resist. I was confused by how good it felt because I had not yet accepted feet as a sexual region. I still thought they were dirty, gross and ugly. I adore foot fetishists for opening that door for me. Now, I absolutely love having my toes sucked, my soles licked and the ball and heel gently nibbled on. I can now accept the compliments on the size of my feet, the curve of my arches, the spacing between my toes and the wrinkles of my soles.
There are so many variables when it comes to a foot fetish session. Will the attention come from a place of worship and devotion or does it need to be forced as a form of humiliation? Must my feet be freshly pedicured, straight from the salon or have they been marinating in sweat all day? Last night my client reverently removed my snow boots, plastic bags and two pair of socks to reveal my damp and stinkily fragrant feet. After an hour of his tongue washing my feet, ankles and calves, my panties were soaking wet.
There are so many variables when it comes to a foot fetish session. Will the attention come from a place of worship and devotion or does it need to be forced as a form of humiliation? Must my feet be freshly pedicured, straight from the salon or have they been marinating in sweat all day? Last night my client reverently removed my snow boots, plastic bags and two pair of socks to reveal my damp and stinkily fragrant feet. After an hour of his tongue washing my feet, ankles and calves, my panties were soaking wet.
Thursday
Kinky Korners...
Gloria Brame, author of Different Lovingposes an interesting q on her blog. In response to the town currently being built with plans as follows
She proposes:
I've just posed her q on maxfisch. But I realize I never answered the q myself.
Would I live in Kinky Korners? No, probably not. There's always the OWK but this is probably part of why I'm not a huge fan of BDSM clubs or parties. When I play, it is an intimate thing. I don't appreciate other people's private lives being thrown into mine...why would I drag anyone else into my playtime? Sure I've played publicly. And I appreciate the support I've found in the BDSM community. However, exhibitionist as I may seem, I can actually be incredibly private.
"the town’s stores won’t be allowed to sell pornographic magazines, pharmacies won’t sell condoms or birth control pills, and there will be no X-rated channels on cable television.
She proposes:
"Anyway...instead of morbid visions of apocalyptic America, dividing into warring city/states ruled by despots and religious fanatics, one could dwell on the happier fantasy of a quaint little future-town called Kinky Corners....yeah...way better. Way happier. Way less realistic but what the hell....
No one under 18 allowed! Compulsory spankings! The return of public stocks - only these will be equipped with vibrators! Dungeons on every block, where you can stop in for a "quickie" before heading home! All-Roman-Polanski art-houses, all the time! Appearing in public in bermuda shorts and white socks punishable by fine!
...
So...would you live in a BDSM town? What would your SM utopia look like?"
I've just posed her q on maxfisch. But I realize I never answered the q myself.
Would I live in Kinky Korners? No, probably not. There's always the OWK but this is probably part of why I'm not a huge fan of BDSM clubs or parties. When I play, it is an intimate thing. I don't appreciate other people's private lives being thrown into mine...why would I drag anyone else into my playtime? Sure I've played publicly. And I appreciate the support I've found in the BDSM community. However, exhibitionist as I may seem, I can actually be incredibly private.
Sunday
When Supposed Grown-Ups Go Sledding
Wanna know what I did this weekend? Snow tubing! Ridiculously silly and fun. It was more about the roadtrip as we were on the road for nearly three hours each way and on the "slope" for less than two, but damn we had a great time.
Why do my sessions always run so thematically? A few weeks ago it was all about the corporal beat down, three clients in a row who could actually receive marks! And now it seems the foot fetishists are fiending for me. But where, oh where, are the electrics guys? I really want to explore the potential of my (no longer so new) TENS unit!
Why do my sessions always run so thematically? A few weeks ago it was all about the corporal beat down, three clients in a row who could actually receive marks! And now it seems the foot fetishists are fiending for me. But where, oh where, are the electrics guys? I really want to explore the potential of my (no longer so new) TENS unit!
Monday
It has been almost three weeks since my last post. I've played a few times and while my sessions were fun, I just don't really have anything to say about them. Actually I haven't had much to say about anything. I've been in this very non-contemplative space for the last several weeks. Until this this weekend. All I did was talk. Hours upon hours of random meandering conversations, primarily with boyfriend, who I referred to as "the warm vanilla body waiting in my bed" as I departed from byte last night.
Tuesday
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I adore the OED
OK, I've gone on before about how much I idolize the OED. Imagine how thrilling I found this entry on Maud's blog...I spent half an hour entering random words. When I was younger it was the derivation, the roots that fascinated me. Now it all about usage. When and where a word first appeared in print, the quotations used to illustrate its meaning. Words just continually captivate me. I've had some very ADD moments where I'll stumble across a word and everything stops while it bounces around my brain.
People Who Smoke Weed Are Morons, yeah I was stoned.
I'm still recovering from my dental debacle, nearly there though (I hope!). Understandably I haven't been available for session over the last few weeks, so I've no session stories to share. I saw the 24 Hours On Craigslist movie. However I am unable to give a proper review, as I was stoned. I thought it was hysterical, but my opinion on anything that evening can not be considered reliable. I haven't smoked weed in close to a decade. But I had a houseguest. A friend from my ancient past; sometimes it just makes sense to walk down memory lane. It's kinda embarrassing. Anyone who knows me would tell you that I don't do any drugs outside of caffeine and nicotine. (Regularly, that is, I do drink on occasion). I was the complete stereotypical moron stoner. I HATE THOSE PEOPLE!!!!!! The only thing I regret is that a friend of mine was looking for some advice and support while I was ridiculously high. I had no comprehension of what she was trying to tell me, nor was I capable in any way shape or form of giving her my typically solid advice. She's hanging out with the boyfriend she was arguing with that evening tonight, so obviously everything worked itself out. But I still feel terrible that I not only couldn't give her the support she needed, I was utterly oblivious to what she wanted or needed from me that night. They say coke is the ADD drug of choice. A self medicating thing. I've never tried it. But I'll tell you, weed exacerbated my ADD like nothing ever has. I was without an attention span.
Thursday
In Bed.
I guess you've all been wondering where the hell I've been. Mostly in bed. Three major things have happened since my last post. I got cable, a new boy and a tooth extracted (with bonus complications!). All of the above conspire to keep me "in bed" more than out and about.
Honestly cable hasn't really thrilled me or incapacitated me as I feared, though I will say I'm grateful for its mindnumbing qualities while I've been trying to numb the right side of my face. The new boy is sweet. Very, very sweet. While I was still in bed on a recent Sunday morning, he went out and bought the makings for chocolate chip pancakes (and made them!). And that's really all I have to say about him for public consumption. The tooth: I've got quite a bit to say about this. Last Thursday evening I had a toothache. By Friday morning I was in agony and went to see a dentist as an emergency case. While I have obtained health insurance for myself, I do not have dental. I'd only heard good things about the NYU dental school clinic. Figuring that an extraction is pretty basic for a dentist and that they wouldn't let the students work on people if they were clueless, adding in the bargain basement price of $90 including follow-up visits...I went in.
The first "student dentist" I saw was terrific. She had been a dentist in Russia and was enrolled toward being certified here. She inspired absolute confidence. However once we determined that an extraction was necessary, she handed me off to the Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery department. Things went immediately downhill. My new student dentist promptly dissolved my confidence in her abilities by numbing the wrong side of my mouth. I got freaked out and jerked my head away. Her partner took over at that point. While I'd never had any serious dental work done before (I didn't even get my first cavity until I was 18 or 19), I had done some research and THOUGHT I knew what to expect. It was so much more violent than I had expected! The tooth shattered. I felt the bits on my tongue and lips. Finally they called over their professor, he hauled out the drill, and got the roots of my evil tooth out of my head. He then told the wonder twins to irrigate and stitch me up. Five minutes later I was on my way, with a baggie of gauze, a sheet of instructions and no antibiotics or painkillers. But hey, they know what they're doing, right? The pain came and went all weekend, I found the most effective dose of motrin to be about 6 tablets. But I was utterly out of commission. Monday and Tuesday I had some pain, but was successfully controlling it with the super doses of motrin. However Wednesday afternoon, the pain was so intense I couldn't concentrate on anything and finally called the clinic. They told me to come back in. I requested and got the wonderful initial Russian chick. It seems I had developed an infected dry socket that had a large amount of debris. So she and her partner clean out the hole in my jaw pulling out about four pieces of bone that had been floating around, jabbing into my gums and being generally problematic. They also call over their professor to check me out. He proceeds to pull another four or five pieces out, irrigates me and stitches me up himself. I'm now hopped up on mega-sized prescription motrin pills and antibiotics. I've been in bed all day.
Honestly cable hasn't really thrilled me or incapacitated me as I feared, though I will say I'm grateful for its mindnumbing qualities while I've been trying to numb the right side of my face. The new boy is sweet. Very, very sweet. While I was still in bed on a recent Sunday morning, he went out and bought the makings for chocolate chip pancakes (and made them!). And that's really all I have to say about him for public consumption. The tooth: I've got quite a bit to say about this. Last Thursday evening I had a toothache. By Friday morning I was in agony and went to see a dentist as an emergency case. While I have obtained health insurance for myself, I do not have dental. I'd only heard good things about the NYU dental school clinic. Figuring that an extraction is pretty basic for a dentist and that they wouldn't let the students work on people if they were clueless, adding in the bargain basement price of $90 including follow-up visits...I went in.
The first "student dentist" I saw was terrific. She had been a dentist in Russia and was enrolled toward being certified here. She inspired absolute confidence. However once we determined that an extraction was necessary, she handed me off to the Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery department. Things went immediately downhill. My new student dentist promptly dissolved my confidence in her abilities by numbing the wrong side of my mouth. I got freaked out and jerked my head away. Her partner took over at that point. While I'd never had any serious dental work done before (I didn't even get my first cavity until I was 18 or 19), I had done some research and THOUGHT I knew what to expect. It was so much more violent than I had expected! The tooth shattered. I felt the bits on my tongue and lips. Finally they called over their professor, he hauled out the drill, and got the roots of my evil tooth out of my head. He then told the wonder twins to irrigate and stitch me up. Five minutes later I was on my way, with a baggie of gauze, a sheet of instructions and no antibiotics or painkillers. But hey, they know what they're doing, right? The pain came and went all weekend, I found the most effective dose of motrin to be about 6 tablets. But I was utterly out of commission. Monday and Tuesday I had some pain, but was successfully controlling it with the super doses of motrin. However Wednesday afternoon, the pain was so intense I couldn't concentrate on anything and finally called the clinic. They told me to come back in. I requested and got the wonderful initial Russian chick. It seems I had developed an infected dry socket that had a large amount of debris. So she and her partner clean out the hole in my jaw pulling out about four pieces of bone that had been floating around, jabbing into my gums and being generally problematic. They also call over their professor to check me out. He proceeds to pull another four or five pieces out, irrigates me and stitches me up himself. I'm now hopped up on mega-sized prescription motrin pills and antibiotics. I've been in bed all day.
Happy New Year
Since my thoughts on New Year's resolutions are in this week's Village Voice, I thought I'd share the most recent pic of my legs:
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