On Keyholding

Keyholding has become an unexpected pleasure of mine. Goes along with my yen for subtle public humiliation, fine dining and domination, making you kneel on the sidewalk. Unfortunately, not every submissive is suited for such advanced bondage and denial of the natural male sexual drive to fuck everything that moves is sometimes an insurmountable obstacle. I, on the other hand, view long-term caging as the perfect tool for teaching you complete focus on me, my wants, wishes and desires. Perfect!

Chastity cage keyholding

How long do you think you could handle it? Being locked up tightly in chastity while in my presence? Intense compression? Teased and tormented by my subtle and unmistakable scent, direct looks and teasing touches? Knowing that you are fully on display to an unsuspecting world through the symbol of the key around a chain on my neck? Restraint inside of a CB6000 is rather unforgiving. Of course, your Mistress would be doing her level best to make sure your enjoyment was tempered with discomfort. All the while, treasuring the cool metal adorning her sking.

Chastity Mistress Keyholding NYC Dominatrix Mistress Martine Phoenix

I’ve previously written about the pleasures of chastity in other posts and have begun exploring keyholding with a new trainee. We haven’t gotten to that point of continuous caging. For him, at the moment, chastity is a temporary condition, a matter of hours, but something that I require whenever we are together. I use every opportunity he is locked in smooth, rigid plastic to push him further into submission, into his devotion to me.

There are other distractions, other obligations. Time is sometimes an enemy; logistics, too. However, in the face of an opportunity to fulfill a need so deep as to supersede the conventional retreat into safety, security, Suburbia; what is one to do but submit to the wishes of this ebony Goddess?

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A Random List of Pleasing Things

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.

NYC Dominatrix Mistress Martine Phoenix

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
patience
passion
pinstripes
packing
catsuits that hug so tightly move so closely and I forget they are on

NYC Dominatrix Mistress Martine Phoenix

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
being served

…to be continued…

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Subway Thoughts: Bondage and Domination

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.

NYC Dominatrix Mistress Martine Phoenix

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?

rope and leather bondage

This certainly feels like the bottom is much better utilizing the space.

casting and duct tape bondage with electrodes

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…

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Session policies and availability: week of February 3rd

Friday is here and I am still on the road. I know my loyal band of subs, gurls and painsluts are eager to come kneel before me when I get back to NYC so, here’s a little reminder about my session availability for the upcoming week:

24 hour notification before any session; 50% deposit required. You can read about my interests here. I look forward to seeing you upon my return.

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Ideal service, 24/7.

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.

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BDSM fiction – sissy’s First Visit (part 1)

As we spoke on the phone, her velvety tones were irresistable; that, my friends, sealed the deal. While I had initially been attracted by Mistress Martine Phoenix’s beautiful pictures and enticing interests, just listening to her voice put me over the edge. Dropping to my knees while still on the phone, I humbly begged to be her servant. She only laughed cruelly. “Silly boy, what can you possibly offer me?”

I told her of my five years experience in the scene, my skills as a writer and lastly, most importantly, of my desire to serve her! She paused as if in thought. “You can write? Perhaps I may have some use for you. What are your interests?” I hurriedly told her of my desire for humiliation and corporal punishment and how I wished to serve her. I told her of my experience as a houseboy and that if she but mentioned the word, I would be honored to cook and clean for her. Mistress Phoenix regarded me for a moment before answering, “I believe that I can use you. I want additional stories for my web site and you may be just the slave to provide them. However, I have no need for a houseboy.” She laughed as if struck by a sudden thought. “I can use a sissy maid, though; you DO like humiliation, don’t you? Well, here’s the deal, bitch: you come to me, pay for a session and I will begin your transformation into my sissy maid. You will write about your degradation and experiences while serving me. If you do well after the first session, I may make you my bitch. What do you say? You have thirty seconds to decide.”

The chance to be her sissy maid and write about it? Oh, the humiliation! Oh, the chance of a lifetime! I jumped at it, begging for the opportunity to be her property. Telling me to prepare myself, she ordered me to arrive at the studio no later than 6pm the following evening. She gave me directions and hung up the phone. I was trembling, scared, excited and totally elated. I prepared myself for my new life.

I found myself waiting to ring the studio buzzer at 5:55, arriving early to make sure there would be no mistake and could barely contain my excitement. The receptionist greeted me, “Mistress Phoenix will be with you shortly. Go into the dungeon, strip and call me when your clothes are folded neatly by the door. I would hurry, if I were you. Mistress Phoenix wants you naked and kneeling when she arrives.”

I followed directions and called the receptionist when I finished. She came, glanced at me and took my clothes. “These aren’t folded neatly, I assure you that Mistress Phoenix will be notified. Are you wondering what I am going to do with these? They will be shown to Mistress Phoenix in their current state. She will give them back to you if and when she decides!” With that, she walked out smirking.┬áMy humiliation had already begun.

From my lowly position, I heard the clicking of heels approaching the door. It opened. “You must be the new slave, writer and soon-to-be sissy.” I kept my eyes focused on the floor and was graced with a glance at her beautiful feet encased in her high heels. She ran her hand through my hair and slowly stroked the side of my cheek. Roughly grasping my mouth she squeezed and forced my head up. “Look at me! You won’t get the chance often, you lowly wimp. Tell me what you see!”

She was perfect, beautiful beyond words. However, I tried. “Mistress Martine Phoenix, divine Goddess! You are so wonderful, so beautiful. Your dreadlocks are perfect, your catlike eyes and full, luscious lips make me weak! And oh, Mistress, you have the body of Venus come to life. Please do what you will with me. I exist to serve you!”

Mistress Phoenix looked fantastic in her leather corset, black leather skirt and knee high leather boots; certainly the picture of a Goddess. One of her hands grasped my face, another carried a cruel cane. She slapped my face and told me to look down again. “Listen carefully, slave; I am going to lay down the rules that will govern your time with me. If you disobey my rules, you will be punished. If you forget my rules, you will be punished. From now on, your name is Babette, my French sissy.” She walked behind me. “Starting today, you no longer have a cock and balls, you have a clit.” She kicked me in my new clit. “I expect it to be shaved when you serve me. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will kneel on all fours when in my presence at all times, unless I give you different orders. When you kneel, your head and eyes will be kept down and your legs will be spread. When I say ‘up’, you will rise to your knees only. You exist to serve not only myself and my female friends, but anyone that I order you to.” She grabbed my face and allowed me to look at her again.

“Do you understand my rules?” I gasped that I did.

She moved behind me, “I understand that you failed to fold your clothes neatly. Let’s see, you have two shoes, two socks, panties, pants, a belt, a shirt and a watch. That’s nine articles of clothing and you will receive a stroke with the cane for each article. Count!” Her cane rose and fell nine times; I struggled not to scream. Next, I felt her hand softly stroke the welts she had made. “If I need to punish you for disobedience again, it will be two strokes instead of one. Now, thank me for correcting you and crawl to the table.”

Mistress Phoenix then strapped me to the bondage table face up. Walking away she cheerfully stated, “Babette, you lucky slut, I am going to give you plenty to write about today!”

To Be Continued…