Meanwhile, Back at the Dungeon....

So, the store's fate is still undecided. C went to court today and the judge wants two weeks to think over the case. Whatever that means! I had a live session last night with an long time regular. When he calls the studio to book his appointments, he refers to himself as "lollypop boy" because 5 or 7 years ago during one of our sessions I stuck a blowpop up his ass. Right now I have no explanation whatsoever about what a blowpop was doing in the dungeon or what possessed Me to fuck him with it, but he has never forgotten it. He tends to be a little overly touchy feely so he often ends up in some sort of bondage even though that isn't particularly his scene. Over the years I've picked up various food items at the bodega to torment him with, including chico sticks, beef jerky (the verbal during that sesion was hilarious: "You insignificant little slut, shake that ass for Me, or I'll shove more meat up it!") OK, maybe amusing only to Me, but I had a great time. Last night however, I decided to go back to basics and picked up 3 grape blowpops on My way to the dungeon. I never actually got around to fucking him with them. I let him watch Me suck one while he proclaimed his devotion and helplessness before Me while kissing My toes and legs. I usually close out his session by letting him kiss My ass through My panties or pantyhose. But last night for some unknown reason I was feeling generous and gave him extra ass adoration time. Maybe I was just feling lazy. "kiss My ass!" is MUCH less complex than applying his makeup, outfitting him in a wig and heels, either instructing him through humilating performances for My amusement or writing all over him in lipstick, "Octavia's SLUT" & "WHORE for hire"

Nanny turned Interim Drug Dealer

I have returned to NYC. The casino at Maho Beach swallowed a couple hundred dollars of Mine, but I got "good play" at the blackjack tables. I have become an interim cigarette dealer since I returned. I bought around ten cartons as gifts, but due to financial hardship, oh like My rent, I've decided to give half cartons as gifts and sell the rest. Really, I paid approximately $10 a carton, packs cost $7.50 each here in NYC. Is it so wrong to charge strangers $5 and friends $3? Are five free packs not generous enough? I feel all dangerous approaching strangers to see if they want a pack. Law breaker!

Sorry the blog's been sorta quiet during the trip, I thought I would have volumes to say, but mostly I got a tan and was entertained by the kids. Of course no one ever comments, but I got some great email responses to the Da Vinci Code post including an offer from a slave to wear a cilice for Me until I returned! I explained how moronic that would be and I dare say I gave the pathetic loser a little shiver to be reprimanded by Me via email. I can imagine him reading this now in an internet cafe, barely able to contain himself that I have chosen to ridicule him for the entire web to see. He is primarily a human ashtray, however he has learned over time to serve in many capacities. Most recently I used him as a packhorse with no rewards. He sweat like a dog carrying boxes for Me for over 2 hours and then I dismissed him, without even offering him a glass of water.

I am SOOO ready to play! It has been too long! Hopefully My schedule this week will allow Me to take some of the appointments that have been piling up in My inbox while I was away.

The Da Vinci Code Sessions

So, I have finally begun The Da Vinci Code, after nearly the entire world has already read it. I am about 80 pages in and am already fantasizing "the Da Vinci Code sessions." What kind of pervert am I that upon the first description of the cilice I wanted one for the dungeon? These Opus Dei followers seem to just be zealots with a masochistic bent. I wonder how many Numerary members spent time with a Mistress (or wished they could) in their "former lives." Oh, I know blah, blah religious devotees, too pure for such things...yeah right. Well kids, time for Me to get back to My book.

The Nanny Diaries, day four

VERY busy day today. I had the bright idea to take the kids snorkelling. After many equipment issues we set off. The boy took to it right away and was probably the best at it out of the four of us (it was Me, the kids and their Mom). We swam way out over the coral reef and ended up swimming over a mile(!) back to their beachfront villa. Their dad took the car to pick up our clothes. This afternoon I decided to take the kids into town (we took the NEW ROAD! over to the Valley), did some laundry and took a walk while the clothes were washing. Found an actual shoemaker. I asked if the kids could watch him at work for a few and he swooped them behind the counter threw a hammer into the boy's hand and did a whole "this is how we make and repair shoes" lesson. It was so cool. The guy's name was Ramon or Raymond, he was from Santo Domingo and showed us pix of his TWELVE kids, gave us a tennis ball and tried to teach the kids how to play handball against the wall of his shop. Next door was a fruit and veggie stand where I bought the kids a fresh coconut that the guy there hacked open with a machete and handed the girl a straw to drink the fresher than fresh coconut milk. The boy had two seriously quotable moments today: this morning he asked, "How far up is heaven?" and this afternoon while we were waiting for the clothes to finish, they were sitting and tossing/rolling the forementioned tennis ball between themselves when he said, "Could you please stop hurting my penis?" I guess his older sister had thrown the ball into his crotch too many times. I also taught them how to play scrabble this morning, she did amazingly well completely on her own, he got some help from both of us, but came up with a few words all by himself.

RSG by day, PD all the time, NANNY while on vacation?

So if you are wondering where I am, I am staying at the Rendezvous Bay on Anguilla in the British West Indies. This is a really calm relaxed island. The biggest news is the "New Road". I'm here taking care of two amazing kids aged 5 and 7 (& a 1/2, to be precise).

Arrival in paradise

Not too much to say yet, however I have safely and finally arrived in Anguilla. The DSL is working in My hotel room, I feasted on lobster and red snapper for dinner and overall I am feeling good and glad to be here. Back at the shop things are an entirely different story. Beyond the snow NYC got today, I was up for the better part of the last week attempting to "save the store" by engineering a tremendous move into storage. Alas I did not get everything done that I intended to do before I left and we are still ten thousand short of avoiding eviction. The only good news is that rather than having had to cough up that payment yesterday in court, we do have until the end of the month. more for you, later.

the exotic flower I turned his cock into

As long as I'm soliciting donations for the shop, I figure you might deserve a tantalizing tale as well...The other day I spoke with a slave who lives in Florida and has not yet had the priviledge of a live session with Me. He asked if I enjoy CBT (cock and ball torture). For some clients this is a coded request for some kind of manual stimulation, for the serious masochist however, this is an invitation for Me to showcase the wicked side of My creativity.

I begun by describing precisely how I would tie his balls with a length of rubber tubing, twice wrapped around the top of his scrotum and then again to separate the balls into their own (literally) skin tight prisons. I then told him about the tiny metal clothespins I would decorate his balls with, and reminded him how much more exruciating they would make his bondage. I asked if he had ever been pierced before. He hadn't. I detailed how I would decorate the underside of the shaft of his cock with needles by puncturing his skin for shallow temporary piercings. I described each needle entering his skin and how each one would pierce him twice, entering and exiting the pinch of skin. I told him how artful his cock would look as I planned to alternate the needles right to left and then left to right. I told him that I thought he could take at least half a dozen needles and that if the droplet of precum that I was certain would be quivering on the tip of his penis dared to drip, I would finish the dozen needles across the top of his shaft. I also told him that I would never neglect the head of his cock and that I would ring the ridge with more of those tiny metal clothespins. I told him how much I would admire the exotic flower I had turned his cock into.

Wanna help keep the world's only 24 hour record shop open?

All of My energy is currently focused on raising 30 grand within the next four weeks, in an effort to keep the shop that I love open and enable it to survive on its own. The fact that My ten day trip to Anguilla (no one ever knows where this island is, it is a short ferry ride from St. Maarten) falls within this timeframe is understandably causing much strife between Me and C. It is a working vacation after all, however I am anticipating have a fantastic time and shooting a new set of Domme photos when I return tanned with My hair sunstreaked.

Wanna help keep the world's only 24 hour record shop open? Buy something! on half, amazon or eBay from us, or just make a donation via paypal.

This is just to say...

I'm not dead. The shop hasn't closed down (yet). I've just been actually working while at the store, and since both of My lovely macs are currently in residence at the shop...no notes for Brain Bleed for nearly two weeks! In that time I've been informed by TWO separate mental health facilities that, in essence, I'm just too fucked up for them to even attempt to counsel Me. First two times I have ever been entirely honest with a therapist and what happens...they tell me A-I have deep rooted problems requiring multiple sessions per week on a long term basis or facility B-I need to combine My talking therapy with medication with a singular psychiatrist who can "closely monitor" My progress.

Yes, I bought a vibrator off of a homeless man for a dollar

The shop buys, sells and trades new and used CDs, records, books, dvds and the like. So part of My job there is to look at the crap people bring by. Sometimes that means a chatty yuppie couple that are getting married and have decided it is time to dump off their duplicates, sometimes it is a relative of someone recently deceased trying to raise cash for funeral expenses by selling off the decedent's collection of Diana Ross 45's; but much more frequently it is the junkie pawning off the remnants of (hopefully) their own collection or the homeless men that troll the city's trash for treasure. The trash pickers find the most amazing stuff! I am a
bizarre bridge to these men who are completely on the edge of society. C has a reputation among them as cheap but fair and unlike many places they sell to, we always treat them respectfully. I think that goes a long way. I have nothing to gain by humiliating or being rude to a 50 year old homeless man. I will admit that the first time one greeted Me by name in another part of the city I was slightly weirded out. Talk about knowing people from all walks of life. Last night one of these guys who stops by at least twice a day brought out an assortment of junk/treasure along with the CDs he had found. Included were a sealed pack of minidisks (which I bought for C), a battery recharger, a pewter photo frame, a package of dry-erase markers and a Hard Throb “the Ultra Realistic Cock” Yes, I bought a vibrator off of a homeless man for a dollar. It was still in the box and if you check out the artwork, maybe you’ll understand why I thought it would be a good decoration for the shop. I planned to perhaps set it beside the Vickie and her Vibe, toy I bought a few weeks back. Well, I walked back into the shop with it and pulled it out of the box to tease (in a strictly nonsexual sense) the girl working at the door with it. As I pulled it from the box, I noticed the paperwork was still with it (who needs vibrator instructions anyway!) and as I was shoving it toward her I spied the first of several curly black hairs stuck to the shaft. It was used! And not even cleaned! UGH. As I mentioned it wasn’t as if I had even bought it for home, or even dungeon use, but I was still completely skeeved at the sight of origins unknown pubes.

Then he asked,"may i be your human toilet paper?"

Sorry I haven't been around so much lately, I am trying to be more responsible and productive at the shop. Also, I'm on a bit of a 12 step whirlwind and at a friend's suggestion have been attending SCA meetings. No, not the Society for Creative Anachronism, Sexual Compulsives Anonymous. I am as yet undecided as to whether I want or really need this fellowship. I meet 7 of the 14 "characteristics" of a sex addict (No, I'm not telling you which ones) and though I have found the meetings to be interesting and somewhat resonant, I have not formed a "plan" (A Sexual Recovery Plan is a predetermined way of expressing our sexuality consistent with our values, so that even when confused, we will have a written guideline to help us)or even committed myself to anything. I also feel relatively strongly that I am not interested in giving up working as a Pro-Domme or keeping this blog. I hope that does not become an issue.

I had a repeat call from a guy who is primarily looking for a full time live in DS situation. I have made clear that I am neither interested in or available for such an arrangement, which is perhaps why he continues to call. He is also into brown showers which I do not do but one of the stories he told Me when I asked about his experiences is way too entertaining not to share. A Mistress that indulged his fetish for shit on a regular basis often allowed him to watch Her poo on a toilet and while he mourned the passing of the turd into the sewers, She would reward him by taking the toilet paper that She had just wiped Her ass with and attatch it to his face just below his nose with tape. He told Me that sometimes it would be hours before She commanded him to remove it. When he requested again that I do an actual brown shower in session with him, I explained again that I do not do that, he then asked, "Well, would you allow me to be Your human toilet paper? After You shit I could lick Your asshole completely clean!" He was so excited by this prospect I couldn't help but laugh and lead him on. "Now slave, I hope you do realize what an incredible priviledge that would be. You would really really need to please Me for Me to even consider granting such an impudent request." Now truth be told, I enjoy a rimming just as much as the next girl, but that kind of direct sexual contact has no place in My work and certainly not following an unwiped poop.

One more aside as long as we are chatting about rim jobs...last week I went to my friend N's 30th birthday party and much later a small group of us ended up back at an apartment and we were drunkenly playing truth or dare. N asked the best truth question of one of the other guys I had ever heard, "Whose was the first asshole you licked?" I burst out laughing that he had already assumed that the guy even HAD licked another's ass. Turns out he hadn't.

Making Naughty Boys Cry...Again

So, I have this regular client that I do both phone and live sessions with. He is an intense masochist with a preference for whippy, stingy rattan canes. I would say he calls Me at least twice a week and after our regular chit chat catch up, we move into his scenario.

My voice becomes sweet, teasing, somewhat throatier and sometimes a bit singsongy.

"Tell Me, naughty boy, are you in need of punishment again?"

"Yes, Ma'am." he replies.

"I'm going to have to beat that naughty right out of you!"

"Is it going to really hurt?" his voice goes up in pitch practically to a whine.

"Yes, naughty boy, it will. The pain is going to be excruciating. And I will NOT stop until you are weeping and recanting your naughty naughty ways."

"Oh NO!" he exclaims. "Are you really gonna make me cry?"

"Most certainly naughty boy. In fact, once you begin crying, I'm going to laugh and hit you all the harder."

"Mistress, I'm scared. You are so cruel and so strict!"

"Yes naughty boy, I am."