Pleasing. Pleasure. Precision. Discipline. Beauty. Manners. Impermanence. Sei Shonagon Kiyohara Nagiko has been working through my thoughts lately, a frequent character in my recent musings, especially her various lists of pleasing, worrying and distasteful things. Reading her Pillow Book, one can easily imagine her, a Mistress strict and demanding, shielded from the prying eyes of curious passers-by with silken screens. Men compelled to do her bidding are summoned to her side, always to be found wanting, later to be memorialized as irritations. Brush and inkstone and paper perpetually at the ready. Riding crop and whip partially hidden from casual view.
Her standards are high, nearly impossibly so. What good Mistress’s aren’t? I feel a kinship, to some degree, with her points of view ranging from the petty to the profound; intriguing how a 13th century Japanese lady-in-waiting informs and influences this 21st century New York City Dominatrix. What I keep rewinding and reviewing are the things and actions that move Me. Things that excite and inflame My senses. Over recent weeks, I have had much opportunity to reflect on those ideas and it seems appropriate to make my own (somewhat random) list of things that are pleasing to me, especially within the realm of service and D/s.
tightly braided singletail whips freshly unrolled from a mailing package
the feeling that blossoms when removing your silverware and feeding you solely from my plate
tight soft smooth jersey stretching smoothly over a lithe frame
sleekly manufactured colored seamed nylon stockings
the longing in your eyes when I secure the lock on your chastity cage
crudo: thinly sliced fish and sea salt and citrus decorated with the lightest splash of good olive oil
rattan canes made to crack and swish through the air landing on unmarked skin
human packages tied up in deliciously scented oily to the touch hemp rope, tightly
catsuits that hug so tightly move so closely and I forget they are on
boots. shiny boots. leather boots. platform and high heeled. zip or lace-up. to the knee or above
you worshiping those boots with no expectation of reward.
men wearing lacy panties under a tailored and proper business suit in anticipation of a meeting
spreading pink blushes
invading your space with my presence
invading your body with my needles sounds metal
crisp Sancerre served in beautifully blown glass
forbidding your speech in public
being deferred to
I’ve been taking the subways a huge amount lately. There really is no better way to make one’s way around, especially at holiday time. As a New York City Dominatrix, people’s public ill manners have certainly set off many reflections on behavior modification, bondage and domination. If nothing else, I have wonderful mental images to distract me from my irritation.
I find nothing objectionable about sitting in this manner when I’m doing it. However, when some male sits on a bench designed for 3, spreading his legs out to the extent no-one else can sit with him, he is screaming to be disciplined. There even seems to be a Tumblr blog devoted to pictures of just this phenomenon. Check out Men Taking Up Too Much Space On The Train to get a better (??) view.
It wasn’t much of a stretch of the imagination to see those mannerless males bound in rope, not to be comfortable, but to serve My sadistic whims in a whole new manner.
Isn’t this an improvement?
This certainly feels like the bottom is much better utilizing the space.
Of course, one cannot just go around imposing one’s will on an unsuspecting public. However, I am a Disciplinarian and Behavior Modification Specialist. I believe that most males today could do with a sound whipping and heavy dose of ego-shattering humiliation. There is no better way of starting the training process with lessons in stillness and obedience, two areas sorely lacking in today’s society.
After all, who more qualified to bestow the hard lessons involving bondage and domination and most of all, submission to Mistress’ whims and will, than Me and other Women of My ilk? You may be a slow and reluctant student, but always remember, I relish emphasizing the points I need to make. Especially using my favored tools of rope, whip, cane and cuff…
You know how important service is to me and you want to be my slave. That’s not a position I take lightly. You will be expected to be impeccable in everything you do and, of course, there is a routine I’ll expect you to follow. Listen closely and pay attention.
Are you prepared to sleep on my floor, chained to the foot of my bed? After I unchain you, position yourself at my feet and worship them thoroughly while I lounge, planning my day. Breakfast is always your concern; acquaint yourself with the foods I like best and make sure they are constantly cooked to perfection. Once the kitchen is cleaned, everything put away in its proper place, you will be properly hydrated with a heavy stream of my golden piss. You’ll make sure to swallow every drop.
Is it necessary to emphasize that your service will involve being firmly in chastity? I didn’t think so. Any slave/pet/toy of mine would never be allowed to have control over such delicate body parts. You would be firmly locked away at my whim and pleasure. Doesn’t that make drawing my bath and viewing my exquisite body while I soap lather soak rinse moisturize all the more agonizing? Knowing you could only look (again at my whim) and never ever touch? Maybe hooding you would be a mercy.
If I have no activities requiring your services as a chauffeur, you will be fitted with a butt plug and set to cleaning my home from top to bottom while I conduct whatever business I deem necessary. On occasion, I will use you for target practice and keeping sharp with my favorite implement of the day. You always sport some physical mark emphasizing my control. Stripes from my cane, streaked kisses courtesy of my single tail. Even without the collar around your neck, your skin will burn with the evidence of my desires.
My dinner will be cooked and served exquisitely by you with every attention to detail. While I enjoy the fruits of your labors seated at my table, you will partake of scraps served to you out of a dog bowl, kneeling at my feet. The end of the evening will see you secured once again to the foot of my bed, in preparation of the rigors and pleasures of the next day.
Is all of that clear? I require service of an excellent caliber, from one whose mind is completely devoted to the task. Many fantasize about such a position, but few, very few, are suited to executing it to my standards. Let me know when you are ready.
I love what I do. This particular thought occurred to me while in session recently. My subject was mummified, wrapped securely in saran wrap and duct tape from neck to ankles. I had performed CBT and NT, the aftermath of which were clover clamps weighted by 4g fishing weights attached to my subject’s nipples and a forest of clothespins emerging from just below his waist through an opening I had specially cut and prepared for this purpose. Ball gag forcing open his mouth, spandex hood erasing his features, I took pleasure in beating rhythms on his unprotected soles with the short cane used just for this purpose.
As I unfurled my favorite 3′ single tail, all the better to indulge my wish for giving this pain sissy a taste of my whip without actually causing any real damage, a laugh escaped from the smile already decorating my lips. This is my life. I have chosen to immerse myself in the art of BDSM and am fortunate that play partners of all stripes from all around the world have trusted me with their bodies, souls, secrets and consider me a safe space to pursue fantasies and examine real life. There most certainly are difficulties when one steps outside the accepted boundaries of society; this is not the place I wish to recount them nor the time. All I know is, I’m feeling a happy curiosity about what comes next on this fascinating journey.
I’ve been holding myself back for so very long, haven’t allowed myself to play for my personal pleasure in quite some time. It feels like a whole section of myself just shut down, dark and waiting for inspiration which I got in spades this past week on my first trip to the Pacific Northwest with a long-time devoted pet. When I think of him during that 5 day period, my memories bring a smile to my lips contemplating him decked out in lacy panties and stockings keeping him on the edge while I came over and over filling him with plugs and cocks fucking him wearing nothing but my knee highs/patent leather heels/strapon/smile compressing his skin with my arsenal of clips and clamps leaving the most delicious marks on his body with my riding crop and whip and my essence in his nose and mouth in as many ways as I can think of to amuse myself.
Now that I’ve returned, it’s a slow re-adjustment to the eastern time zone, brain still floating on a cloud of nearly continuous play and good service and toothsome food and attentiveness and no sleep mixed in with the excitement from that new city and its dramatic mountainous landscape. My focus shifts and I feel that something sleeping inside begin to stir as I contemplate my newest amusement, a young, eager boy, wishing to become my slut and fucktoy. Nothing has happened yet, it’s as if I’m taking the time to savor and enjoy our initial intercourse from a distance, fully appreciating the anticipation being created. However, when I allow myself to do so, I will take pleasure playing with him, mouse to my cat.
I’ve been thinking a great deal about bondage lately. Random musings keep popping up in my head about the best way to put these ideas into motion. The visions include lovely, spacious hotel rooms, my pretty pink ropes, a game bondage bottom and multiple hours to explore all ways the human body can be restrained. Dreamy, right?
The newest component to these daydreams: Pilates positions! I’ve been a devotee of this exercise regime for many years. A certain amount of strictness is needed to properly execute each particular component of core enhancing workouts. Because of this, it’s a wonder that I haven’t thought to combine the two sooner.
What a perfect opportunity; bondage play and slave-exercise training all in one! How it would work: once each position was assumed (i.e., the hundred, roll up, mermaid, double leg stretch, etc.), I would apply ropes both as a way to fully illustrate proper Pilates form and for my personal amusement, of course.
I can see it now. Ropes steadily tightening and locking my subject into position. Instructions about how to regulate the breath and surrender to the position. My delighted laugh filling the space with each new assumed posture…
6 of us stood on the corner of Houston and First Avenue, old friends and new on the way back from a low key SM meet and greet a few blocks downtown. The air had the feel one experiences during late August when New York’s heat hangs like a blanket over the sidewalks and parks with a rich velvet quality. It was a relief after the previous days of rain. r looked so adorable standing across from me; 5 foot nothing, curvy, juicy with the loveliest laugh and smile. Earlier at the bar, I had taken the opportunity to feel her out; locking her arms behind her head, I molded her back to my front, tickled her mercilessly and thoroughly enjoyed her squeals, giggles and (half-hearted) attempts to get away.
I couldn’t help myself, standing on that street corner, cars and people passing by. r pulled down the top of her dress a little to show everyone her pretty, lacy bra. I pounced and reached out to draw her closer by the lacing holding the front closed. My hands wandered down the front of her dress and over her breasts, while I said something unconvincing to our companions about not wanting to cause a scene. An idea struck me and I bade everyone to move closer until her face was pushed into my cleavage and she was firmly sandwiched among us all, my hands still stroking and pinching her tits. I murmured something into her hair about not quite finding what I wanted when my fingers struck gold. They clamped down on her nipples, drawing her even closer to me, eliciting a simultaneous gasp and moan from this pretty toy.
“…and what do you say, little girl?” I asked.
“thank you.” she whispered while melting into me.
I released her with a quick kiss on the top of her head and promised myself this wouldn’t be the last time…
After spending very many years in the corporate world, shuttling through the fields of law, advertising, and fashion, I am very appreciative of my current autonomy. To this day, I still don’t know how I was able to muster the enthusiasm needed to devote a huge percentage of my time contributing to someone else’s bottom line; being fulfilled in life is something that has become more and more important as I get older. There is a great deal of responsibility in being self-employed (quarterly taxes, anyone?) but I wouldn’t trade the peace of having full control of my day-to-day schedule for anything. Without a doubt, my lifestyle is not for everyone or even something 80% of the population would even understand. Regardless, the feeling of standing back and viewing a favourite toy in tight bondage, gagged, plugged and clamped in certain tender places affords me a deep sense of peace and serenity.
As well as amusement and amazement at the havoc I create.
I was suddenly struck by memories of the dressing room at Arena Blaze. It was a small, oddly shaped space, holding floor to ceiling racks of trunks, television, couch and always slightly too many people, adding to the cozy vibe. During the summer, the front dungeons were icy oasis of constantly running air conditioners and drawn velvet curtains, all the better to keep the room comfortable for clients, at least initially. It was in the dressing room where all my best memories of working in a studio began. Dead phone evenings with 4 other girls on shift, back door open to a canyon of buildings in midtown Manhattan, funky R&B slipping quietly from the staff radio. Games initiated in fun in-between sessions, riding high off the heavy dose of scene adrenaline, involving crops, floggers, hands and vibrators. The sheer concentration that can only be emitted from a woman completely intent on drawing the perfect eyebrow line.
It’s been some time since I have posted in this blog or even had any substantial online presence for quite a while now. Without going into too much detail, time was necessary to begin to put my various houses back in order. Now, the itch to immerse myself in play and see clients has grown stronger, leading me to offer sessions again in the great city of Manhattan. A slow and steady prowl of fetish and BSDM catalogues is yielding a few fun toys and wicked ideas of how to use them. The first order should be arriving any day now; who’s ready to be my guinea pig?