Who Are You... And Who Do You Wish To Be?

On what do we base our recognition of ourselves?

Gender and appearance: If I take you from hulking everyguy to restrainedly feminine, how does that change what personality traits and thoughts pop forth?

Social roles: What happens when I take those from you, not allowing you control or responsibility? When you don't have to account for, or explain, those dissonant urges that crash against the walls of your upright citizenship?

To one imminent subject: "You look up, into the mirror, and the sight of this... creature... completely disorients you. You raise a hand (it can't possibly be yours - is it?) to touch the face. The hours you have spent being stripped, encased, arranged, reduced, seem but a memory: Who are you now?"

Well?

Utah Rox Is International Mr. Olympus Leather

Congratulations to the new titleholder! I met this tall drink of leather at DomCon a couple of years ago, and enjoyed his wit and wickedness through that weekend. Of course, being impeccably uniformed in leather and issue police shirts, Sam Browne belt, leather pants, and motorcycle-cop boots (*pant pant*) does help to cement an impression - that's like an arrow of fetish candy straight to my brain.

Guess what Mr. Rox used to do for a living? 

Achilles, I've Got Your Heel

So I had this tall, muscular, fit, ex-military guy cuffed and stretched out on the bondage bed. I'd been whipping his back for about an hour and a half, and the heat rising from his skin warmed my arm from four inches away. Every lash was rewarded with a yell, then a deep, hungry groan as he stretched toward me, offering me his firm, meaty shoulders and back in a wordless plea for more.

It was when I was roping his thighs apart that it occurred to me: "Are you ticklish?" I asked him. He immediately responded that he was, but added, "I hate being tickled!" As soon as he heard my laughter, he realized what he'd just armed me with, and scrambled to recant. But it was too late - I had already begun to lightly scratch with my gloved fingertips on his soles, ankles, and the backs of his knees. Nervous expectation, but no involuntary tension, meant no ticklishness there.

Then I moved up, to his waist. A slight exhale; I was on the right track. A little higher, and forward, to the ribs. He started to crack: stifled giggles, reflexive tension in the abs. Now up to the armpits. Dynamite! He exploded in helpless laughter and as much writhing as the bonds would allow (not much).  Within five seconds he wailed such a heartfelt, "Oh! MERCY, MISTRESS!" that I had to cease my torment because I was laughing so hard.

Which, I suppose, is a goal. Delicious distress frequently makes me laugh, and when I am amused, I am pleased with my pet. So there you go - suffer entertainingly, and you will be sure to be invited back.

Behind Closed Doors

About Behind Closed Doors: I've had so many incredible moments during play that I now want to share. First, to savor them, and to give you a sense of what I love about what I do; and second, because fetish films often do not, cannot, convey that intimacy and sheer chemistry. May my recollections bring you a taste of those pleasures. 

They chatted amiably as Mozart shimmered in the background. She tilted her head, the light flashing off her rosy lips and sharp dark eyes as she spoke. At this close distance, the minutest reaction would not escape her notice.

Her leather-gloved fingers clamped around his nipples, slowly released, pulled, twisted... Every now and then he stiffened and gasped silently, eyes wide and helpless, when her nails dug in, or when she ground his swollen nips almost flat between her cruelly strong fingers. When the steely hold softened and withdrew, he collapsed against the bondage bed, a grin of wonder spreading his mute lips.

He told her over and over how special, how wonderful she was. She smiled, laughed, thanked him - then gave his nipples an extra wrench just to hear him stop in mid-sentence. She loved granting and taking away the power of speech, and he was in no position to object.

He could only offer himself, and hope that she would find him worth her amusement...

July 3rd Hollywood Bondage Ball

My colleague Julie Simone, the busty, Amazonian, award-winning bondage legend, will be performing at the L.A. Bondage Ball tonight! [Bondage Ball link plays music when opened.]

Mistress Simone has a very special 21st birthday planned for her toy, RubberNecro, involving latex and suspension (I hear there will be some sort of cake, too). If you're in Los Angeles, go check out the performances, sexy music, dungeon play stations, and other temptations.

It's (Becoming) Official: Kink is NOT a Diagnosis!

From the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom:

"In the new proposals for the DSM-V, alternative sexual behavior has been depathologized. The American Psychiatric Association's Paraphilias Subworkgroup's DSM revisions acknowledge that you can be a fetishist, transvestite, sexual sadist or sexual masochist without having a mental disorder. NCSF has worked very hard with its DSM Revision Project to make sure these changes take place, and will continue to strongly advocate for clear language of what exactly constitutes a mental disorder."

Read the rest of the story, with links to the publicly viewable proposed changes, on the NCSF site.