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.



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.