Beauty Is A Demanding Mistress

Oh, there is so much to enjoy here. A clip from Good Morning America, on the beauty benefits of face-slapping (and butt-punching). Absolutely love the end bit.

Experienced spankos know that spanking helps banish cellulite. So it makes sense to apply circulation-boosting percussive massage elsewhere.

In fact, as a child, I watched my Asian mother firmly pat/gently slap her face to help skincare products absorb. The woman still looks fifteen years younger than her age. (Though I'm sure that having good genes, and using La Prairie, helps.)

See? Spanking really is for your own good.

More Moments: Team-Building

His padded leather ankle cuffs jangled as he hobbled forward, the shiny chain leash pulled taut from his neck and wrapped tightly around my fist. I sauntered slowly ahead of him, my legs coltishly long in sleek, thigh-high black leather stiletto boots.

I could see him if I turned my head a little. We were both lipsticked and in lingerie: him in swaths of pink - camisole, bra, panties, and stockings; me in black satin corset and lace tap pants. Blinded as he was with the pink leather blindfold, upper body tightly cocooned in the black spandex straitjacket, he had literally no choice but to be pulled along in my wake.

Trust can be demonstrated in many ways. This instance was very direct: without my guidance, he would have fallen flat on his face, or been marooned in the middle of a huge room.

This delighted me.

"A slave must be willing to trust his Mistress, even though he does not know where she is leading him. He must be willing to suffer, to place her happiness before himself - literally."

With a moan of assent, he relaxed - and was ready.

Keratin Cutting: Fingernail Cutting And Hair Shaving

I may be developing a fingernail-cutting fetish.

I've been growing out my nails: strong, filed to ovals, and long enough to leave clear red pinstripes on a back or an ass. I enjoy having natural, subtle weapons to flick out at will.

But when I clip them down to the base, it feels... good.

The increased exposure of my fingertips feels primal. When I flex my fingers, the strength of my hands is sensual, unencumbered by extending nail.

Nipple torture comes to mind. Gripping a ball sack. Kidskin gloves. Anything that rubs against the naked tips of my fingers.

If you cut slowly enough, you can hear and feel the steel shearing cleanly through the keratin fibers: sshhhhrrrrk.

It's glorious partly because it's rare. It can only happen once every growth cycle, and nothing can hurry that growth.

Shaving is the same principle, but more subtle. The result of interplay between hard steel implement and delicate organic hair is sure, inevitable, definitive. The quiet sound of razor over skin is the sound of harvest. It is the feeling of good work being done.


In my music training, there was no room for personal indulgences of nail length or color. Clear polish was beyond my piano teacher's acceptance. If my nails exhibited even a thin edge of white, nail clippers were handed to me before the lesson was allowed to begin. "There must be nothing that detracts from your performance!" she demanded. Vanity, that paltry substitute for worth, was not allowed in the realm of art.

I now find pleasure in that sound of exactness, that sensation of cleaving a layer of organic fabric. There's a boldness to a woman defying expectation, deliberately cutting off the natural ornaments of nails or hair. One can polish and decorate, sure - airbrushing and bejeweling and so on - but the asceticism, the austerity of bare, healthy, well-trimmed nails with nothing to distract from their function says to me, "ready for action".

This woman is ready to conquer a fistfight... or a fisting.

Text Teasing

Recent text exchange:

Him: "What are your thoughts on abduction and forced regression?"

Me: "I think of a male stripped of adult privacy..."

"Inspections, belittling talk, scoldings for naughtiness. 'How silly to resist. You'll be treated like a child for as long as you act like one. The only way out is to accept your fate and cooperate.'"

Then, the cherry on top -

Me: "One word: thermometer."

Him: "Oh... you are good."

Me: "You know it."

The Right Use Of Resources

My dear friend is finishing her third round of cancer treatment, and plans to celebrate in Las Vegas. She's had a tough road for someone still in her twenties - cancer is a goddamn treacherous thing. 

So: who calls me, in perfect serendipity? My sub boy in Vegas. He's now standing ready to secure a room for her and her mother whenever they decide to go, so they may celebrate their hard-won victory. 

That, my friends, is what I call using influence for good. 

Plotting and Playing

How am I finishing out this week?

Well! A little abduction/forced bi fun with an eager leather slut and a good T-girl friend. The slut: helpless in the face of a commanding woman, especially one in leather boots. The friend: tall, tight-bodied, hung, and a proven play partner. Just how I like to indulge myself when rewarding/terrifying an especially hard-working personal sub.

Then, lots of hard spankings with a few favorite boys. Starring in these vignettes will be my wooden hairbrushes - a boy can feel that impact for days afterward.

Saturday night, my friend Julie Simone will be hosting a play party. She's a modern fetish visionary, and I can't wait to see what she's cooked up for that night.

Hope your weekend is filled with pervy fun!

The Consequences of Education

I've been thinking quite a bit about what we are and do.

Right after DomCon last year, I addressed a human sexuality class at Portland State. After the class, a handful of students remained to talk, thank me, and look at my gear. But then one, during our conversation, challenged me: "Isn't that abuse? A healthy relationship is between equals."

I was honestly a little startled. I offered that, in any relationship, there are many inequalities - disposition, skillset, income, etc. - but good relationships are complementary arrangements. I cook, my partner washes up, I take responsibility for him, he obeys my authority.

What particularly struck me was that this question was lobbed at me from a self-admitted dominant-personality woman. I could see the wheels turning as she quickly conceded my points, yet she clung to "agree to disagree". She seemed conflicted, caught between what she had been taught and what she, perhaps, intuitively understood. Any domme who's worked with m/f couples, training the woman to dominate, has seen this struggle. I wonder what her internal dialogue was like in those next few days...