Holding the cane

Touch my skin gently

2010-11-02T06:56:00.000-07:00

The last months have been rough, play-wise, not because they have been bad, but because it's been a roller-coaster. Spectacular, then huge drops, too dramatic and deep for comfort.

So, I will write to comfort Myself - I'll write the memory of some of the good moments.

He sank to his knees and kissed My feet the moment he was inside. I am not such a great fan of having My feet kissed, particularly not while wearing shoes, but I was barefoot, and his mouth was soft and warm on My skin. he made love to My feet, but I moved away, and told him to undress. I wanted him naked before he got down to it, and he did - undressed - and stood while I inspected him. he was soaked in sweat from the tension, his balls pulled up, his body tense. A touch over-weight, he filled out his skin as if there was no give in him, like some well-fed men do, and I touched that tight surface gently. Then I sat down and told him to get back to kissing My feet.

While I am not into foot-play, I love seeing a man on his knees, struggling to please. I love the movement of his muscles, the line of his back to the curve of his ass. I love the touch of effort it takes to get that far down to the floor, and the contrast between his struggle and the gentleness of his kisses. As I have told others: I love the things I can do to them, and the fact that they don't get annoyed and leave. I am a Bitch in life in general. It's lovely to really express this inner Bitch and be desired for it.

I did quite a few things to this man this first time. I beat and fucked him, tied and used him. But right now what I think back at fondly is one thing in particular. It's how he, at one point, gently kissed the soft curve of My belly, dwelling on the sensation of My skin, breathing in the scent of Me, slowly kissing his way towards My sex. When things like that happen, what blows My mind is again the contrast: between the pain I unleash in him, the marks of the cane or whip, the challenge, and the incredible gentleness with which I am treated. I cherish it to the point that it almost makes Me cry. At times, I do.

And then he made Me tea, and for a few hours, the world was perfect.

Too strong to be held

2010-10-18T10:04:00.000-07:00

Sometimes Dominant Women whine about these whimpy male subs who need to be handheld through life. They want somebody strong, powerful, somebody who can be a macho man, finally!

I don't.

I want to meet one who is not too strong to be held. I want one who can let Me care for him, past his pain and struggles. I want one who aknowledges that yes, perhaps he isn't all that special, perhaps he can receive help.

Last week I played with a new submissive for the first time. It was glorious, our kinks fit perfectly, and intellectually he is close to a match. I was pessimistic, because he's married and I don't like playing with married men. This one convinced Me that he had it all under control, he'd be able to take it - all I could give and then some.

So, I went hard at it. I had him undress, worship My feet, then I kicked his balls a few times. After that I caned him, before I strapped on the smaller dildo, and fucked him slowly and lovingly, with him tied up on the bed. he made a late lunch, then he suddenly dressed and had to go.

eeeehhhh?

That kind of behaviour is what normally kicks Me into a drop, the feeling of being abandoned the moment the other party has had what they want. So when he texted later, gushing about the experience, I wasn't that enthusiastic. he returned, immediately, and made tea, watched Me play a game - chatted. Then he undressed, showed Me his ass, and told Me it really wasn't properly bruised.

I didn't want to push that hard, but, hey, that was one sexy ass! So I beat him, harder, although less than before, cuffed his arms behind his back, bent him over My coffee-table and fucked him again, not quite that gently this time. Afterwards I spent an hour or so teasing him - playing with his cock and slapping him hard when he was close to coming. Yeah, it was damn sexy, and when he left I was sated - really sated, craving body and sadistic soul.

The next day I got a quick message that he was still bruised, body and mind.

Then nothing.

After a few days of silence from this guy who is normally constantly communicating with Me, I got it. Something was wrong. When I asked, directly, a dam burst, and he described his feelings: Low energy, depression, doubt. Had he let himself go too far? Had he given up too much? Was the sexy fantasy really that far from what he really wanted? Basically - he sounded like a text-book sub-drop.

That's when I made error nr 3 (1: beating him really hard when he asked for it, just because we both wanted it, although I knew he was not as experienced as he wanted to be - men never are. 2: Not checking on him earlier.) I told him he had something which is quite common.

You see: A man with enough machismo to stand before a clearly Sadistic woman with more brains than him, more determination than him and a stronger sex-drive and say "use me," he is going to think he is something pretty damn special. And so, if he can't take it, it's not something as common as drop. That happens to other people, HE must have some very special experience. And so he couldn't even think about wanting to have his inner bruises soothed.

When we parted, he had planned to return today, because he had so much time. Today, when we chatted, he didn't even have time to chat for more than 10 minutes. he did not want to meet Me, and he thought Me "sweet" for offering to be with him. Nope, he did not need Me at all, now that he had been beaten, fucked and denied. Now he, with his superior brain, is to figure out the problem, and then he'll solve it as if I have nothing to do with it.

The logic: he got what he wanted. he is confused. his problem. I can go do something else until he has fixed it.

The thing is - I have barely played the last few years, because I tend to drop so hard when I play with a stranger. This man made Me feel so good, I didn't even come close to dropping. Now he is dropping, and he won't let Me do a thing about it, because, mainly, he's too much of a man to give in to such regular emotions.

So: I don't want them that strong. I want them strong enough to endure, but weak enough to take the offer of My arms with grace. I want to hold both as they are hard and soft. I guess I like the whimps.

Hits Me like chocolate and red, red wine.

2010-10-06T10:35:00.001-07:00

The last months have been busy beyond belief - again. It's odd how life swings from one type of busy-ness to another. What have the last months had in store for Me? Sex. More sex in three months than in the last three years. More SM than in 6 years. It's so bad that I see it in their eyes when they look at Me - they want to sink down on their knees and serve. And the vanilla world rubs against Me, like a cat begging for My attention, to stroke, to touch, to acknowledge their existence.

Still, I have been oddly unsated. I have given pain and taken pleasure, I have held and hurt and released, but still I feel like I am filled with energy that has nowhere to go. And with each new partner I have met the last months, I have hoped that now... this... it has to be the moment when My release lasts longer than until the shocks of orgasm have flowed through Me.

And so I am still seeking for the one who can touch not just My clit with his tongue, but can ground Me with his body so the charges itching just beneath My skin can flow through him, flow out and away, to leave Me sated and rested.

I have hope today.

he is a journalist, a good one, which means he asks fascinating questions, he does his research, and he knows how to listen. It's a professional skill he falls into when he is tense and nervous. And when I get nervous, I go nerdy, and talk on and on about stuff I really know. The conversation, the questions, commentary and depth was a turn-on in itself. If anybody listened, they would have learned nothing of kink, but everything of our speciality fields. But the whole time something purred in My belly, under that cool blue gaze.

I asked him after we had left the café if he would have problems with a relationship between us turning physical. The look he gave Me was so serious, as if I had pronounced his death sentence, as he told Me no... no, he would not have a problem with that. Later, as I sipped a heavy red wine with the left-overs in My own kitchen, alone, because I wanted to give us both time to breathe before we fucked (and because My apartment was a mess with nothing but left-overs in the fridge), anyway, as I sipped wine and felt it slide into My belly and stroke My libido from the inside, I realised what his serious gaze had felt like.

It was red wine and bitter chocolate. It was the dark sensual touch of melting cocoa butter on the tongue, and the rich spicy warmth of an oak-aged wine. It's the taste of desire, for Me, and I crave it in ways that drives Me to gourmet shopping in order to sate the demand.

And so I am hopeful, next week I will have him at My feet, with his blue, serious gaze and his long, powerful body, his questions and his knowledge and the weight of his consideration. And then I will try if perhaps, this time, when I strike his pale skin and mark his flesh as Mine, perhaps this time having one begging Me for his pleasure will hit Me that way, like bitter chocolate and red, red wine.

Rope-lust

2010-10-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

I recently threw out most of My ropes. Meters and meters of lovely cotton rope, keeping only the couple of coils of treated hemp, and although grieving, I dumped it. It was a mix of moving and Top-depression. It had been so long with nobody aching for My rope, begging for my hand, gasping and crying under My cane.

Now I am suddenly as busy as I can possibly desire to be, and I don't have My ropes any more. After years of never using them, three months after I throw them out, I miss them. Isn't that just exactly the way it is?

Right. Over to something else.

2009-09-24T05:41:00.001-07:00

I am turning bitter and whining, and I hate that. So, something else.

I am working on a man's fears. he is very masochistic, has strong fantasies of being a total slave, and is terrified of being fucked. he wants to make the ass-fucking a hard limit. If he wants to be a slave I am not accepting hard limits. he can call himself a masochist, a submissive or a bottom and limits are fine, but if he calls himself a slave and yearns to be totally owned and taken, I am not going to accept limits. Then it's obey Me or get lost.

And he knows that. he wants to be a slave. in his fantasies he is increasingly helpless. he has bought a CB6000 and is begging to be allowed to use it. I'll put it on him next time I visit - this man who hadn't had anybody tie his cock down until he met Me, is now having fantasies about being locked down at My order. Owned. he wants to be owned. he knows it means he will be fucked with a strap-on.

he begs to be beaten, ruthlessly, before I fuck him. I can beat him ruthlessly. But I'll fuck him when I want to, not when he wants to. he begs to be allowed to suffer for Me for hours, bleeding, bruised, burned. I want to scar him, I want My initials on his skin. It will be there, soonish. But first I'll have his ass. him, humiliated, under Me, begging, crying. I am not small. he makes Me feel dainty. I love the knowledge that I am slapping the face of a man with one of the top brains of our society. It makes Me wet to know they will fly him to the other side of the planet and pay for his advice. And he'll have his dick in a cage all the way, begging for his release as soon as he's in his hotel room. But he won't get it. And then he'll remember that he had to submit to being fucked, and remember that being My slave means obedience.

I want to punch him now. Hard, sharp jabs at his body. I want to tear his skin to strips with the whip. I want him bruised and bloodied and begging, and I'll have him there.

A good thing he has no idea how much I want to see him crying and begging, or he'd be even more vain than he is!

Why should I care?

2009-09-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

I spend too much time talking to submissive men who are looking for a Mistress. 90% of them are for different reasons impossible matches for Me. Of the last 10%, there are a lot who want to match, but who back out at the last moment, when they learn that yes, I am willing to meet with them. Of the last tiny amount I meet, they don't turn Me on. They are too young, too old, too tall, not tall enough, they don't laugh in a way I find amusing, they don't smell like a person I want to be close to, they bore Me or they are too eager to entertain Me. And they are all in a hurry.

My desire grows slowly. I need time to want a man. I need to see him bend to Me, gently. I need to have him close for a while, to breathe in his scent. I need to discover the things that trigger Me, the bent neck, the quick blush, the turning of the other cheek when I mentally slap him. Also he needs to demonstrate his intelligence, his tolerance, his will. And I need to see that I make a similar impression on him. I need him to, by his own free will, seek out My presence, desire to stand in My shadow, reach for a touch of My arms or shoulders. I need him to come to Me in more ways than the obvious declaration of his submission. That is too simple, too selfish, too much a scream for attention. I want him to put that away and attend to Me, not to his own frustration.

And so I sort through them, because, despite all this, I dream of this partner - male or female - who is willing to make that space in their lives into which I can step and stand tall. I acknowledge it as a fantasy by now, and the seeking has become My own kind of wanking. With each provocation, with each idiot I need to reject, the fantasy moves one step further away, becomes this much more unattainable.

And so their pleas no longer touch Me. "I have never met a dominant Woman." "My wife refuses to beat me." "I haven't submitted to a Woman in years." Why should I care? What does your lack of satisfaction have to do with Me? I am not those other women who disappointed, rejected or left you. I am the woman giving you some of My time, to see if perhaps you have within you some fragment of the dream I am seeking. And I tell you that I know this much about that ideal. My ideal doesn't come to Me, asking Me to make up for all the disappointments in the past life.

Why should I care about how long you have been without one such as Me? For the one I desire it should be enough that I am here.

Sugardaddies

2009-05-19T01:41:00.000-07:00

So, today I wrote one of those self-advertised sugardaddies. You know, those who claim they are willing to do anything to keep a beautiful young woman in the style she deserves, if she's just willing to abuse him and his credit cards in style. Also, they happen to be the ones that don't want to talk to fakes.

This looked like one of the better ones. He offered luxury accommodations for travelling kinksters, while he's waiting for that wonderful Dominatrix to step in and start cuckolding him. I thought that sounded kind of neat, as I'd have done pretty much the same if I had money and space. Actually, without the money and luxury accommodations, I have had many a kinsters visiting, and visited them, for fun, for play, and just for plain socialising and friendship. I like kinky people, they just laugh when I claim the television remote, and point out that now I am in control!

So, I sent an email saying: "Hello there, I liked that invitation, how about we have coffee next time I pass through your town so we find out if we like each other, and then we can see if it would be a good idea to stay at your place some other time." So, as you may see, no demand for money, no insistence that he immediately submit, nothing but a way to meet and see if there's some kind of chemistry, at least the friendship kind of chemistry, between us.

I got a reply. He wants a face picture.

Now, I rarely give those out. I am not afraid to meet people, I don't make complicated demands on people at the first meeting, and I don't expect anybody to open up their home and offer their submission without taking their time. But I also don't spread my face all over the place. Not that I look bad, I actually look fairly good, if you're not too into movie stars and models. I'll never be one of those. I have the kind of face that looks everything from extremely mundane to very beautiful in the space of a few seconds. But since I laugh, cry, smile and argue with all of Me, and botox is something I'll never, ever get close to, it's starting to get marked by living. Still, I'd manage to hold still for a great shot, and My real weight is less than I say at the web site. I hate to disappoint people, so I underrate Myself online. It's so nice to have people light up when they meet Me!

Anyway, I told him he would have a face picture when we had made an appointment for a meeting, told him what I look like, and asked if looks are very important to him.

No reply.

I guess looks are very important to him.

Oh well, so much for the sugardaddies. I wonder if I have found the litmus test for "real" among them? Whether they are willing to talk to a person who doesn't fit the conventional idea of "stunning", and settle for the possibility of a scene friendship, or not?

Of course, he might have a fetish for very beautiful women, and use his money to satisfy it. In that case, I am sure there is a nice niche of professionals to help him along.

Foursome lonesome

2009-02-27T02:50:00.000-08:00

Some months ago, I found out that two nice colleague/friends were kinky. The last weeks I have been waking up with wet dreams about them every morning. It's really nice and hot, but now I am getting second thoughts about meeting them again. There's never been anything between us but very easy friendship, but in My dreams they and a third friend have cooperated to satisfy My every desire. I have tortured, beaten, denied, cut, burned and electrocuted them, while they have eagerly been begging to be permitted to please - morning after morning.

purrrrrrrrrr

I can feel the touch of A's lips down My thigh as B is begging in a whimper to be let out of the cage so he can serve, and C is hanging against the wall, his back a mess of lines from the single tail, and it makes Me soaking wet, even in the late night. I prepare to go to bed, and to dream again.

Next time I meet them, I will have to be professional and polite, maintain propriety while having them around, eager to relax and be themselves in My presence. No, ravaging them might be an option, but it would be a very far fetched and stupid one. But can I sit in the same room and not burn with lust for it, now that I know how it might feel?

As the desert

2009-02-20T01:38:00.000-08:00

I feel as dry as the desert. My skin is tight and brittle, my fingers wrinkle, but not from bathing. My hair falls stiffly, scratching My neck, and My lips are cracking, dry. The inside of My mouth is hurting with thirst. Tilt your neck, offer your vein, let Me suck you dry, let Me own you.

I don't want this life

2009-01-27T01:30:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it hits Me like a bat to the head: The self-loathing that comes with remembering My stupidity in certain contexts. It isn't really big things, it's stuff that is at best embarassing, but it implies a lack of perfection. No, I don't think I am perfect, so why does it bother Me so much that it floods Me with absolute despair, and makes Me desire to change My entire life?

Lately it has been focused on D/s and S/m. Everything stupid thing I experienced with a submissive comes back up to the forefront of My mind: The whip that struck down the coffee, the ropes that pinched the balls in just the wrong way, the chains that were too tight and did not release, the safeword I ignored for at least 30 seconds, causing severe panic, the bleeding I hadn't foreseen... It's parading over My subconscious, bouncing to the front of My mind in the still moments. Driving a car, walking, watching television, doing dishes - when My head isn't busy focusing on something else, I find Myself utterly disgusted and wondering how I could possibly do these things to another human being.

What does this mean? I don't know. At the moment it makes Me want to throw out all the toys, and never turn to D/s again. But while I think this, I also know that I haven't had a full body orgasm, one where I felt like everything fell into place and body and mind were one, since April last year, when I last tortured somebody I was also deeply involved with. I am never as happy as I am when I know I can play when I like, with My favourite victim. I am never as depressed as when I haven't played for a long time, and think about playing from the cold, clear distance of having had everything turned off for a long time. And I am not bi-polar, it's not the randomness of my hormonal level that puts Me up to this.

I am not sure what My mind is trying to tell Me though. Should I make a serious effort to find a regular play partner I click with, and get to playing? That would mean leaving the job, moving elsewhere and most likely be rejected by most of My loved ones. Should I just stop thinking about D/s, stop playing and avoid making such a fool of Myself in the future? That would be the easier path, the gentler and safer.

Both alternatives makes Me grieve just at the thought though. I am trapped in My life. And there are very few ways out.

Better and worse

2008-12-05T01:57:00.001-08:00

Better: Yes, she is amazing and sexy and the combination of beating some male ass and kissing her actually made Me come in the semi-public setting of a club.

Worse: She's a blasted masochist, and I just get it confirmed over and over - I don't like masochists. I was a lot more turned on by torturing others together with her, than spanking her.

Better : I have found an extremely entertaining co-top in her.

Worse: Which surprised and troubled a lot of the people at the events we visited. Since she is Dominant to others, they thought I had to be the bottom. EWWWWW.

Better: She has a nice boyfriend who wore the silliest grin ever when I told him he'd get the pleasure of dating two women, and sitting in the middle at the movie. Sometimes it takes so little to bring a smile to their faces.

Worse: We got so drunk, all the making out took us nowhere exept to sleep.

What did I do?
I pierced a foreskin, and bled a penis. That part was hilarious - I stuck very thin needles in the dick of our victim, and as it was swelling and gorging with blood, it started trickling out. I liked the foreskin part. Actually, uncut men are so much more practical for playing with than cut ones.

I used a rubber baton on a lot of different asses. The last one was the most delicious male submissive. That's the session that made Me come - we were taking turns beating his ass, while he was frantically thanking us - then we forgot all about him as we just ended up kissing right next to where he was chained to the cross - and then he thanked us for him being allowed to be part of making us horny. Very nice. Good boy.

Before that we had used another submissive masochist to the point that he was pretty much used up. Between those two we were busy for hours.

And then I dropped, as usual.

This happens when I don't have a submissive with Me afterwards. It feels like I am all dressed up but have nowhere to go. It wasn't as bad as usual. Her company, the laughter we had shared over the days I stayed there, her care and concern and the fact that I had really REALLY enjoyed working over that line-up of male submissives we had, made the feeling dissipate without much harm. But I really need a submissive partner to wake up with on days like that. Somebody to lick and kiss all the frustration away, and to endure what I tend to want to give, for another little taste of that hormone-soup Sadism and Dominance throws Me into.

Oh well. I'd do it again. But the main problem was that the most attractive person I met was a Male Dom. I'd so love to own his ass. But he'd most likely be horribly offended if I told him.

Anticipation

2008-11-26T00:34:00.000-08:00

I have been invited by a friend to join for a play party tomorrow night. She is a very active organiser of events, head of a politically active special interest group for BDSM, a well educated scholar and a visually stunning lady. She is also a bisexual switch and painslut, who is already fantasizing about Me and My leather strap coming to stay with her for a long week-end.

I am frantically doing laundry, trying to prepare for three days of being "on", as I suspect she'll keep Me engaged, physically and intellectually, until I fall asleep on the train to the airport. The last time we shared a room, we spent half the night chatting. It's that kind of chemistry. So you can imagine, I really don't want to disappoint her.

So, how does a Dominant Bitch prepare to go visit one of the few who have made an impact in the last year?

First, I have been shopping. Not for toys, but for underwear. It's a lot more important with another woman than with a man. A man will not notice what I wear the moment his dick starts getting hard. She'll appreciate it, envy it, touch it and realise the effort I put into it. To dress beautifully with another woman is a language in itself, she will know I have dressed for her, and she'll understand what it says.

Second comes the toys. I know she is a slut for thuddy. Now I happen to love canes, and she does not like them at all. Being a switch and a masochist rather than a submissive, she's pretty clear on what she likes. But I know what I like too, and I like canes. Quandry, isn't it? I am going to try to get around that by bringing some very special canes. I have two heavy, thuddy ones. I'll try to find a piece of luggage that will take a cane, but not leave Me travelling with a giant suitcase for a week-end. The leather strap she loves is easy to pack, luckily. The heavy, thuddy flogger isn't here, it's staying with My collared male pet, and I won't be able to get it before I leave.

She doesn't like to be tied. She wants to be told to hold still. That's the biggest mental challenge for Me. The process of applying ropes puts Me into a state of mind where I am in control. I love the actual helplessness, the restrictions that underline My absolute control. When I just tell them to stand still it's their choice, not Mine. How do I process that into control for Me, rather than her whim?

I'll still bring some ropes though. We will be going out twice while I am there, to play. We may play with others - she's one of My favourite co-tops, wonderfully inventive and cruel, and she laughs all the time while she hits. Quite likely I'll give her a thorough beating before we go, then we pick on some of the victims there together. Then I'll let her thank Me for being such a good Domme afterwards.

That's one of the things I love about her. She tells Me and shows Me that she appreciates what I do. No floating subspace where she needs loads of aftercare - she does get cuddly and stays very, very close after a good spanking - but she is absolutely there, and makes it clear she's there for Me. It makes My belly tingle to think about what she can do to demonstrate her appreciation. And that brings Me to: Do I bring the dildo? I think I do. Who knows what may come up? And it's not like the cane, a dildo and a harness is easy to pack.

And I need the needles. And a knife. I want to scratch angel wings into somebody's back before this is over. It's almost Christmas, after all. So some kind of desinfectant, preferably alcohol based, for increased sensation. Angel wings. Knife. Pain.

I am wet.

To be a Dominant

2008-11-20T00:05:00.000-08:00

"All Dominant Women are fat, ugly, demanding and rude."
After years of living with Dominant Woman as My sexual identity, this is a presentation of Myself I keep running into. When I meet somebody in the flesh and turn out to be an ordinary woman, it almost seems like they are disappointed. What is there to rant against, when I could just as well be their aunt or next-door neighbour of the non-abrasive kind? There is an underlying aggression which is almost painful in most contact with submissives, particularly submissive men. They treat Me as if I have no feelings, no sensitivity, I am just a Bitch, and they do Me a favour by letting Me do what ever I want to their body. Because they really want to submit, you know, and I had better take the opportunity NOW, or they are off to new and better Dominants before the next possible date.

"You are not really a Dominant."
Well, if that means I am not fat, ugly and rude, I guess I should feel blessed. But there are so many ideas about Dominance, and they are so closely connected to porn, Professional Dominance and leather protocol, that I am starting to doubt My own kink. I adore submissives and submission, and their submission turns Me on no end. When I am spoiled and worshipped I walk around perpetually aroused and high on self-confidence and what-ever drug My hormones release into My bloodstream. It blows My mind. And I give back, by taking control, by molding the relationship to match us, by acting on My desires as a Dominant and sadist - I am not a Do-Me-Domme. And then I get told I am not Dominant. Mostly because I am not a Bitch, I am polite, I even say please when I give an order (Kneel here please. Take My shoes off please. Now kiss each toe please. Good, now bend over, and spread your ass cheeks please. Just hold that pose while I fasten the strap on, will you?) I don't wear much leather, I sometimes play naked, I get orgasms and I let My partners cum too, rather frequently, when I am in the mood for that. From what I understand from much of the male submissive descriptions of Dominant Women, I am not really a Dominant when I do this. Actually, from what the Dominant Women write too.

"Dominance isn't about sex"
I think this one comes from the very heavy argumentation that professional dominance is not prostitution. But this is one of the heaviest reasons for attacks such as the above. A Dominant Woman is not one who delivers sexual services or relief. If they are, then all the professional Dominants can be considered prostitutes, and that would severely change the status and the economy of Female Dominance particularly in the USA. Hence, women like Me, who get insanely turned on by living as a Dominant, we can't be Dominants. We must simply be sluts catering to our partners.

At times this is enough to make Me want to give up. Burn the canes and bury the floggers, donate the corsets to the local opera community and use the ropes for the boat, which they supposedly were bought for. I get so sick of the negative descriptions, the imagery, the expectations which are so very far from both something nice, and the truth. Yes, I am a pervert. I like to see people suffer, I like to get things My way, I like to give orders.

But I would never, ever, at any point, be able to live with Myself if I deliberately made another person unhappy, being what I am. I'd rather live vanilla for the rest of My life, than be a constant source of endless misery to all the submissives out there, trapped between their desire and the endless cruelty of women who are categorised the same way as Me. I can't deal with the thought, and it makes most of the discussions about Female Dominance almost physically painful to Me.

Sometimes, the ones who do submit to Me, tell Me that I am too nice, in the meaning that I care too much. If I just stopped caring, I'd be a better Domme.

Is that the key to it all? All the Dommes out there have realised that they just have to not give a damn?

Service

2008-11-11T01:23:00.000-08:00

Do you dream about service? Well, so do I.

As a start, I dream of impeccable manners. Having My coat taken, the chair pulled out, drinks offered. A man who stands up when I do, and who will kiss My hand, daringly, correctly, submissively, when we meet and part.

Then I dream about the initiative for service, the offer of something more personal. To have him kneel to take My shoes off, as I walk in, to have learned My habits well enough to know to have the coffee ready, and served as I like it. To have him anticipate what I might enjoy, and offer it, unafraid of doing a mistake, as it's all about learning to please.

After that I want him vulnerable, because at this point, he starts offering of himself. I want him naked while I am dressed. I want him restricted while I am free to move. I want him taking it, while I give. I want his reactions, his lust, his desire for My pleasure. I want to reach down and cradle his cock in My hand, I want to look in his eye and ask him who own it, and I want to feel him grow hard in the warmth of My grip as he says it: "You, Mistress. You own my cock." And I want to close My hand about his balls and crush them, his most vulnerable parts, while he does nothing but whimper. It's My balls. Mine.

From then on, I will want his service without inhibition. I will expect him to satisfy Me sexually in any way he is able to, from submitting to My Sadism to being fucked with a strap-on to spending an hour eating Me until I am tired of cumming. But that's not where it ends. It's not like sex will make the desire for all the rest go away. To reach that point he has to work for holding Me in Top-space, just as much as I need to work on his sub-space.

It seems all to often that the relationship between Dom and sub is about the Dominant putting the submissive in sub-space, that coveted state of mind. What many forget is that the submissive can put the Dominant in Top-space, through their acts and behaviour. Service does that to Me. That delicate kiss on the hand sends shivers down My spine, and stirs the deep waters where the Monster of My Sadism lurks. The cup, served just in time, the carefully thought out meal, the chair brought to Me, the bent neck, the faint blush of embarassment as he reveals himself, mentally or physically - Ohhhh, it pushes at Me, taking Me away from Mundania to the reality where I rule, the supreme Mistress of all before Me.

It's where we both want to be, isn't it? And you can bring us both there, through service.

Submissive passion

2008-11-03T23:29:00.000-08:00

A friend travelled a long way to be with Me. I had two days off in a business trip, and he wanted to spend them with Me, on the off-chance that I'd want to Dominate him. he was prepared for disappointment - well, actually, he wasn't, as he's a nice guy and no matter what happened we'd have fun, be in an interesting place, have some great food and wine and enjoy the trip by being submissive and Dominant and open about it, even if not in an actual active relationship. There is something incredibly satisfying in just being allowed to be all you are, you know.

But anyway, he was there, having crossed half a continent for two days with Me, and yes, I did feel the pressure. I felt I had to at least try. Ow, that sounds bad. No, I wasn't planning a pity-fuck or anything like that, but there we were, Domme and sub, Female and male, time at our hands, toys discreetely in the suitcases, wine, food, sunlight, romantic setting. It just might really work, you know? So I tried. I ordered him around, and had some fun with that. I tied him down, and yes, I really enjoyed that. I made him squirm and beg and he was rock hard for Me, while in pain, something he had never thought could happen. I am a damned good Dominant, if I want them hard, that's what I get. *cough*

The next day I dropped like a stone. he was there, politely present, doing everything he could to be good, not pushing for a second scene, a great guy, a great friend. And I just wanted to go and hide, to spend the rest of the time there eating chocolate and crying. Well, I didn't. I got up, we went sight-seeing, we took pictures, we explored and laughed and had more of the wine and food. I could just as well have a good time while I was dropping.

Now he worships Me. he sends Me emails where he exposes himself totally, makes himself not just physically but also emotionally painfully vulnerable. I still think he's a wonderful person, but, but - I just don't get that intense tingling sensation. I don't want to OWN him. I want to give him confidence and see him go on to some other Domina, I want to let him experience some of the things he so intensely needs so he can relax and start looking for a person, not the acts. Now he wants a person. he wants Me.

I try to be extremely careful and honest with submissives, male or female, that I play with. I am friendly and like playing, but emotionally I am not all that available. Falling in love with Me is a bad idea. However, many of the men (this is mostly men) who think they do are more in love with themselves, and the way they feel I reflect everything they desire. No matter how much they fetishise My desire for them, what they feel such intense passion about is the Dominant Woman who is but a part of Me, one they barely know. Since they have seen the Domme only in specific settings, She can be anything. They fall in love not with Me, but the potential I represent.

Yes, it's extremely satisfying for My ego, particularly in times of not too much D/s activity and too much work, to be told I am The Most Amazing Person ever. But it's painful to know I have to turn down a wonderful person who would be sleeping on My doorstep tomorrow if I permitted it. Equally painful: to know that the person sleeping on My doorstep would actually be sleeping on his own, hypothetical doorstep, the door into the Domme of his fantasies and fiction. Only very rarely would I be the woman he expected to find behind that door.

The passion of male submissives, the unconditional worship and the eager surrender is concerned with what I represent, not Me. I can take being a symbol of absolute Dominance while I wear the leathers and hold the whip. But the day after I will drop. And then I don't need just a friend, I need the one who can hold Me and make Me believe I am desired, respected and admired even when I let the guard down. submissive passion rarely has room for that.

It's raining

2008-11-03T01:31:00.000-08:00

And I am back in mundania. For a few weeks I was surrounded by people who felt the urge to flatter and spoil Me. Now, I don't really walk around wanting that on a daily basis, I get suspicious. But when people prove they are willing to go far for your presence, and they still keep up the flattery and the spoiling, then it starts to feel real. The difference with these people is: They invested their time in being with Me.

To Me, submission is about time, not about ropes, clothes or commands. Give Me control of your time, and I know I control you. Let Me use your time as I like, and ummmmmmmm - there's nothing I can't do with it.

Heh, it actually turns Me on. Interesting.

Spoil me

2008-10-08T02:38:00.000-07:00

Reading one of the blogs I follow, the submissive male writer talked about how he was having coffee with a Domme, and she wanted him to buy her stuff. As he was and is really broke, he couldn't, or he would. She got upset and left.

While I have never been financially spoiled by a submissive man, I find that I can't really deny her the right of her attitude. Submissive men don't adore women in cheap shoes. They adore the ones in the 1000$ thigh-high boots, the perfect bodies in the expensive lingerie, the Bitches with designer handbags, the Fetish Queens in latex and leather. I have not yet seen a single site devoted to the worship of a woman in cheap sneakers and white cotton comfortably cut panties. The women they worship have perfectly manicured nails and lips painted to succulent redness.

I don't even know where you find a lipstick that will do such a thing.

Considering this, and the fact that women generally have a lower income than men, it starts making perfect sense that if you want to worship a Domme, you need to outfit her in a way that makes her worthy of worship. I did have one man do that to me - but he happened to have a fetish for autentic uniforms. I am now the owner of a used German police field overall, and an equally used (and patched) American combat uniform, both purchased very cheaply at eBay. He's still searching for an autentic belt to go with the police uniform. He gets off on that search, I think, as much or more as on seeing Me in the gear.

One submissive used to be the glamour slut, who wanted women with particular shoes and all. he really got all hot over high heels and elegant nails. Then he met Me, and discovered what a bad pair of shoes can do to My feet and back. Now he is the one who begs me take the hiking boots, because they look oh so much more fetishy than the heels. his whole understanding of what signals female power has changed, after he discovered how restrictive that whole fashion ideal was.

Occasionally men insist they want to spoil Me economically. Normally that means they want to treat Me to a drink, before they start begging for Me to come to the hotel room they have paid for. It's obvious that they want to use their money as a lure, give the promise of presents in the future rather than going to the expense of buying a ProDomme now. I find that as disgusting as the opposite, the women expecting to be given gifts just for breathing.

Now, do I have something I would do for a gift? Yeah, there are actually a few things. If a guy wants to buy Me a fur coat and some spectacular underwear, I'll go out on town with him wearing just that and the boots to match. Then we can have drinks around town while he knows what is not under the fur coat. I'd even throw in a manicure and pedicure for that, so he could have some nicely done hands and even feet to worship, if he has enough manners and looks that I want to be alone with him. Would I do it because the coat is worth a lot of money? No, I'd do it because that's a fantasy that's been with Me for so long, it's almost sad that I never have owned or even worn a fur coat. But in that fantasy the economic exchange is important: he has to buy it, because he has to desire this scene so much, he really wants to invest in it. Me getting it for Myself, then wearing it for somebody who didn't feel the thrill, that wouldn't really be the same.

Fetish gear in the scene is often very expensive. A lot of men who contact Me start out with asking what gear I have. I don't have much, because I don't want to risk cross contamination. If a guy wants something used on him, he should buy it and own it. If I really want to use something, I should buy it and give it to him, if it's something that can draw blood or get other body fluids all over it. I own one dildo for the use on submissives, I am pretty anal about it (haha), as I cover it with rubbers when in use, and cook it afterwards. Normally I give the used dildo to the guy after I have used it on him, but there was a period last year when that got both too expensive and too impractical. But a lot of men actully lose interest when they realise I don't come with a huge fetish wardrobe, I don't have a closet full of brand name heels, I don't need a car to transport my whip-collection, and I don't have a dungeon in the basement. The fantasies about the resources of Dominant Women assume a lot more in the field of economic outlay on the side of the woman than a pair of shoes. Seen on that background, I should start systematically stocking My toybag by asking for "tribute". It would be simply a taxation of their fantasies, so I would have a chance to live up to them.

I don't think I ever will though. I was taught that taking a man's money or gifts meant I owed him something. I don't want to owe anybody anything, ever.

The fear of Femdom

2008-10-03T00:14:00.000-07:00

An interesting thing I experience online (and to a certain degree offline), is the fear of female submissives of Dominant Women. Not the bisexual or lesbian ones, no, not at all, but the straight female submissives. I have tried to figure out why.

I have some theories.

Women not living like them, and not sharing the same values (you prefer to kneel to a man? Ewwww, men are for beating and walking all over, not to serve.) are threatening, and I am an implied criticism of their lives through Mine. Not true of course, I would hate it if all the women in the world were Dominants. Then who should I Dominate? It's ok girls, stay on your knees, you look really sexy there!

Fear of losing their Dominant to My greater sexual attraction. After all, they are attracted to Dominant people, why shouldn't their Dom be? And for some of them this is a real concern: many men go into Dominance simply because it's a way to get some kink in their lives in a world where it's really, really hard to find a Domme. But if he is Dominant, don't worry. Then I won't be the least attractive. You see, He is like Me: He gets turned on by submission, not Dominance. To him, I am at best a companion in the quest for better ways to torture you, at worst a nasty woman who won't behave the way he thinks I should.

Jealousy. In most communities, there are a lot more submissive men than Dominant men, and generally a lot more men than women. This means that a lot of submissive men will be hanging around trying to impress the submissive women, just to get a taste of kink in female shape. And then a Dominatrix walks in, and they all disappear to throw themselves at Her feet. Of course that will be annoying. I can't do anything about that. It's like when the Master calls, and you have to stop teasing your subbie boy friends and attend him. It's what you want, really, the important thing in your life. Or you'd be a Domme, and if you were, the boys would never turn their back on you! At least not without being ordered to do so, while you prepare the whip.

I am sure there are a lot more reasons, and some of them quite personal. I am full of theories about this. But I have to keep them on a general level, because sometimes that animosity gets too much to bear, if I can't distance Myself from it this way. To be a Dominant Woman is still a provocation in many groups, not least among people who are deeply committed to male Dominance. It's unpleasant to go out and be snubbed by female submissives, glared at by female Dommes, hit on by male Doms who think scoring a Domme is a major powertrip, and swarmed by male submissives. And it's unpleasant to have the same thing happen in forums and discussion, which is a reason I often present Myself as a transgender fetishist, or a male horny net geek. Even the most leecherous ones get treated better than a Female Dominant does, in many communities. I know, I have been one of them more than once.

Dominant Desire

2008-09-11T03:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's very simple, and it is, today. What I want is sex. I want to have My pussy eaten. My nipples licked. ummm. When that happens, something turns though. It's as if My nipples were buttons to a cage, and seing an adult, kneeling before Me, licking My nipples, wakes the beast. And then I notice other things, like the bent, vulnerable neck, the shoulders, the back. Oh, his hands are tied behing his back!

At this point, I know there's no turning back. The image of a kneeling submissive - normally a male - hands tied behind the back, licking and kissing My breasts undoes My imagination. Also My real life lust, but we're in fantasyland right now. And then I want to use him.

I want to cane him. I want to see the stripes swell over his ass. I want to touch it and read the pain, like braille, in bumps and stripes. I want to feel the heat off it. And while I am hurting him, I feel more and more like having his cock inside Me, riding him. Oddly though, very few men are still hard after 36 strokes with a cane. So mostly I swap roles, and it's My cock inside him. His warm, red ass against My belly. My hand firmly in his hair. His back under Me, his arm between My teeth, the scream, his pain, and I bite him while I penetrate him. And he pushes that striped ass at Me, and I bite him again as I come, squirting all over the place. Lust. Satisfaction. Lust.

I still want to be satisfied. I really want to be satisfied. My pet. My toy. Mine.

The truth is, to the horror of all the malesubs out there who are doing anything to be taken like that, I won't have what I want. Not tonight, not for months. All this Dominant Desire, and not a single sub will be able to sate it.

*sigh*

Vanilla Queen

2008-09-11T02:34:00.000-07:00

"You have to get up" he said, as he took My hand and put it on his chest. I was curled around him from behind. We have slept like this for 26 years, close together, nesting, touching. I can't sleep well without another person breathing in the same room. I spent a year away recently, due to work, and I never got used to it. When he worked nights I'd smuggle one of the children into the bed.

"You go first" he murmured, and I knew he was doing Me a favour. I needed to be at work early, and he had less to prepare. In the most loving way he was making it easy for Me to get up when I had to, offering the warmest water in the shower, the longest time to wake up and get ready. I took it, and went through with the morning routines, forgetting to make his coffe, even if he never forgets about My tea. "We're not in a hurry" he said, his voice carrying a smile, as he made coffee for himself. Then he fetched the newspapers and let Me have the best chair at the table - like always, the one with a view to the road, not just the garage door.

He helped Me search for My wallet, and laughed when it was in My pocket, he locked the door and parked the car in the parking lot at My job, then walked to his. He made sure I knew when he'd be around, and was concerned about what I'd have for dinner that night, as he was planning to eat at work.

We are a vanilla couple. I tried to spank him once, but he told Me, clearly, that he disliked that a lot. I tried to use toys with him, and he blushed and never talked about it again. Well, he does like the occasional cross-dressing. Wearing My underwear turns him on. But it's not something he initiates, or I insist on often.

But in everything outside of the bed he treats Me like a Queen. He brings Me tea, and looks surprised and happy when I do the same for him. He lets Me have what I want if we can afford it, and then spends hours searching for a cheaper option if we can't. He serves champagne when he wants beer, and he has learned to cook to suit My diet. Also, he's one of the very, very few people I have met who can buy Me books and be certain I'll enjoy it.

And when I leave to travel the world, and also, to spend some weeks or months living with My collared submissive partner, he helps Me pack, checks the tickets, drives Me to the airport and looks after My life until I return to it.

I have never lived a life without Dominance. "You are like a storm" he said, 27 years ago. "A force of nature." I live like a Mistress, every day, even if he would never kneel - except to help Me with My shoes if My back is troubling Me too much. I am a storm, and he is caught up in it, following My directions. It's why it works.

Holding the cane

2008-09-05T05:57:00.000-07:00

Why do I want to blog about this, which is My darkest and brightest pleasure? I like to see others hurt for Me. I like to hurt them. And then, I like to that them satisfy Me. I don't know why it satisfies Me to write about it as well, but it does. It's just like that.

Anyway...

There's very little play going on these days. I am in limbo, My partners unavailable. What is a Woman to do then? Autoeroticism is hard when what gets you off is the pain of others.