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.

Spending $ to make $$

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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.

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.