Big news, dear readers: I have been selected as a Featured Presenter for DomCon 2011!
My workshop, "Femme Fantasies: Crossdressing, from Sweet to Slutty," will be at 5:45 p.m. on Saturday, May 21st. Check the official site of DomCon L.A. for full location and schedule information. I'm planning to cover some philosophy and techniques for crossdressers and the women who wish to understand/control them.
This will mark my first time presenting at a convention, but I've been working up to this for a long time. I'm excited to finally cross the line from the informal individual/small-group coaching I've done to a more formal, larger-group class structure.
If you're attending DomCon, I welcome you to come to my class! And if you're available on that Saturday, and are brave enough to get primped and turned out in front of a group of likeminded ladies and gurls, volunteer to be my demo bottom (email address on my website, or comment here).
See you at DomCon!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Governess Knows Best
Note: The following is a snippet of a very intense encounter, including a mention of blood. Boundaries were explicitly negotiated, and both players are experienced in handling heavy scenes. Please take care, and play safely.
He had been summoned because of a quite juvenile infraction: He had been caught peeping at me through the door crack while I dressed. He was clearly a fully-grown man, so as his former governess, I was obligated to correct him for his unseemly breach of boundaries.
Thus was the premise for our role play, and his discipline.
He had to specifically acknowledge why he was there, and express his sincere gratitude for the discipline he was receiving. I explained seriously that it was inappropriate to have ogled me - and worse, to have been caught! Like a common, drooling schoolboy. He had to make up this indignity. Surely I had taught him better, and the only way to truly rectify his mistake was to take his discipline humbly and fully.
I commanded him to fetch each implement, and contemplate its heft and painful potential while I watched closely. I know each tool very well, exactly what it can do, and when to introduce it.
There was the London Tanners strap of double-thickness leather, and the rectangular oak paddle signed to me by Jennifer Brooks. The punishment quirt, braided like a bullwhip but with two thick thongs for tails, and the hard wooden spoon.
He counted aloud each blow with gasping concentration. After some measured, firm strokes, I began to give my arm full, glorious swing.
I paced it slowly, not allowing him the luxury of numbness from sensory overload, and lacing each set with precise scolding (my favorite).
My own skin began to hum, listening to his determined acceptance, and that exquisite symbiosis buoyed me into further cruelties.
I love the cane. I love precision. I absolutely adore getting into small spots with sadistic intent.
My favorite cane is made of clear polycarbonate (the same material as bulletproof windows). Smooth frosted finish and a black rubber grip, luscious weight and flex. Its swing is incredibly sexy... and, it's sterilizable.
Before I was finished, his skin ceased to be a barrier against blood. A few tiny breaks in his hide were hardly going to excuse him from his just deserts - he was decidedly within his tolerance limits. So I wrapped his bottom in a triple layer of plastic food wrap and proceeded with the rest of the discipline.
At the end, he stood slowly and thanked me in a soft, warm voice full of gratitude.
How can my heart not swell with pleasure?
He had been summoned because of a quite juvenile infraction: He had been caught peeping at me through the door crack while I dressed. He was clearly a fully-grown man, so as his former governess, I was obligated to correct him for his unseemly breach of boundaries.
Thus was the premise for our role play, and his discipline.
He had to specifically acknowledge why he was there, and express his sincere gratitude for the discipline he was receiving. I explained seriously that it was inappropriate to have ogled me - and worse, to have been caught! Like a common, drooling schoolboy. He had to make up this indignity. Surely I had taught him better, and the only way to truly rectify his mistake was to take his discipline humbly and fully.
I commanded him to fetch each implement, and contemplate its heft and painful potential while I watched closely. I know each tool very well, exactly what it can do, and when to introduce it.
There was the London Tanners strap of double-thickness leather, and the rectangular oak paddle signed to me by Jennifer Brooks. The punishment quirt, braided like a bullwhip but with two thick thongs for tails, and the hard wooden spoon.
He counted aloud each blow with gasping concentration. After some measured, firm strokes, I began to give my arm full, glorious swing.
I paced it slowly, not allowing him the luxury of numbness from sensory overload, and lacing each set with precise scolding (my favorite).
My own skin began to hum, listening to his determined acceptance, and that exquisite symbiosis buoyed me into further cruelties.
I love the cane. I love precision. I absolutely adore getting into small spots with sadistic intent.
My favorite cane is made of clear polycarbonate (the same material as bulletproof windows). Smooth frosted finish and a black rubber grip, luscious weight and flex. Its swing is incredibly sexy... and, it's sterilizable.
Before I was finished, his skin ceased to be a barrier against blood. A few tiny breaks in his hide were hardly going to excuse him from his just deserts - he was decidedly within his tolerance limits. So I wrapped his bottom in a triple layer of plastic food wrap and proceeded with the rest of the discipline.
At the end, he stood slowly and thanked me in a soft, warm voice full of gratitude.
How can my heart not swell with pleasure?
Thursday, October 21, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
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?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Achilles, I've Got Your Heel
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.
Friday, August 6, 2010
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...
Saturday, July 3, 2010
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.
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.
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