NYC double dominance with Mistress Wynter!

Double Dominance with Mistress Wynter of New York City

Hello All!

I am pleased to announce that in NYC for the month of August, the gorgeous, legendary Mistress Wynter (seen in the above picture, http://www.mswynter.com) has graciously offered to conduct double dominance sessions with me in her beautifully appointed studio, Wonderland (http://www.mswynter.com/site/wonderland-studios/). Because I want to learn from Mistress Wynter’s years of experience, preference will be given to certain session requests such as:

medical play
corporal punishment
humiliation
electricity
genital tortures (e.g., CBT/NT)
sensory deprivation
domestic scenes
fetish exploration (leather, feet, boots, etc.)
genuine servitude

I feel so very excited about this turn of events and expect that having the chance to play alongside of Mistress Wynter will make the end of summer much hotter than expected. Don’t miss the chance to witness us together in action.

Send all polite inquiries to info(at)mistressphoenixjade(dot)com.

We look forward to your service.

The pleasures of chastity

During my years as a lifestyle and professional Domina, I have always been amused to see how many men are totally into wearing chastity devices. The restraint could be no more complicated than a rope cinched tightly around the genitals for a few hours. At the other extreme, a cage made out of plastic or metal with padlocks and accessories meant to be worn for month-long stretches is a very real option. For a Mistress enamored of sessions involving tease and denial and cuckolding or just interested in total control of their submissive’s every reaction, knowledge of these devices are indispensable to taking playtime to a new level.

One of My devoted pets and I have recently been discussing the pros and cons of various types of chastity accessories. I enjoy the thoughts that invariably arise during our conversations: wickedly teasing him with my perfect figure to get him hard. Laughing at his distress and inability to masturbate since his cock is under lock and key. The pleasure I would continually experience knowing that even in my absence, he is completely and effectively controlled.

A great many men could benefit from being kept in penile lockdown mode especially since they are basically controlled by their erotic desires. I have always maintained that keeping strict control of one’s submissive is a necessary component of training. If one’s penis is kept under lock and key and orgasm is not an option, think how much better it would be to rechannel the energy that would normally go into thinking about sex toward serving one’s Mistress in a more pleasing fashion.

Chastity can be the door to a whole new beginning and deeper understanding of submission.

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Mistress’s weekend – an offering from c.

This entertaining story was written as a present to me from one of my devoted pets.  Hope you enjoy it as much as I did…

Well, let’s see, just thought I would remind all my retainers how nice it is to be totally pampered and catered to.

I have just returned from a weekend in the country at one of my pet’s estates.  Not only did he send a limo for me but it came stocked with some delicious food to nibble and a bottle of champagne he had selected from his own wine cellar.  When I arrived at his manse, I was greeted by a beautiful female servant and relieved of my coat and bags.  A red ball gag in her mouth, clamps on her pert nipples and the smell of hot cunt in the air…I knew she’d come in handy later on.

Immediately, I make my way to the fully equipped dungeon, my thigh high leather boots with the five inch heels crushing the rose petals my pet had strewn on the hard wood floor, that lead me to him.

Ah… There are not many sights as delightful as walking into a dungeon and finding a pet waiting for you, on his knees in the kow-tow position, offering him or herself to their Goddess.

So vulnerable, so giving, so ready to receive my abuse…and what’s this I see…? Are those some drops of pre-cum that I detect, glistening in the candlelight on the floor directly below the purple head of his stiff cock?

That’s what I like to see, and what a fitting compliment.

This makes me so hot that I waste no time. Without saying a word, I approach him and stand with the toe of one of my boots next to where his forehead is touching the floor. He pants in anticipation and I can feel moisture between my legs. He knows that I am going to have him greet me by licking my boots, but I wait.

The anticipation grows. His panting becomes heavier. His cock twitches, and finally…yes there it is…another drop of pre-cum falls from his meat and hits the floor. I rub my leather clad toe in it and tell him to lick it off.

Breathlessly, he thanks me as his tongue laps up his juice. I raise the toe of my boot off the floor, rocking back on the heel and tell him to show me how hungry he is by taking as much of the toe into his mouth as he can.

He eagerly obliges, stuffing half my foot into his mouth.

Oh What Fun!!
Oh What A Sight!!

Now the fun really begins. I order him to his feet and tell him to take his place at the wooden X, facing the wall and to secure his ankles to it.

After locking his wrists in place, I select one of my favorite, custom made canes from the arsenal. This one has soft leather wrapped around one end, so as to prevent slipping from my hand. On the business end, a small hole has been drilled and a thin strip of leather has been slipped through it and tied in a loop, creating a small leather tassel, ideal for tormenting nipples and balls.

I instruct him to stick out his ass and prepare for my first swat. I wave the cane through the air… I love to hear it whistle, and it also keeps him off guard, never knowing which one is the one that is going to connect and then…WHAM!

The cane catches both his ass cheeks and he recoils and yelps his thanks. The burn is instantaneous and almost immediately I can see the welt starting to form.

I connect again, and again, alternating between his tender thighs and his lily white ass cheeks. With each swat to his ass I can feel a pulse in my clit, and I can feel it starting to push against my damp panties as it grows more stimulated and engorged.

I remember the femme slut upstairs, and with the tip of my cane, I press the button on the intercom, summoning her.

More blows are delivered with the cane and I start to dance around, teasing his meat with the leather at the tip of the wood. My pet writhes in delirious pain induced ecstasy as I continue to raise welts on his flesh, making it appear as if he has sat on some sort of red hot, psychedelic waffle iron.

I run my fingernails over his burning skin, tracing and aggravating some of the beautiful welts I have just created.

I unshackle him and have him lie down on his back. I tell him to move his ass around on the floor, further irritating the burning lattice work that I have created.

He moans and groans…how I love those sounds…
…and what’s this?

Why here is that girlslut, just in time. Her chest covered in her own drool, and her nipples throbbing from the clamps.

Right on cue she kneels before me and assumes the kow-tow position, displaying to me the juice running out of her glistening, shaved pussy and the plug inserted in her ass.

across the small of her back, written in garish, rubyred lipstick it reads:

“I AM A SLUT”

and across her ass cheeks,

“USE ME”

And I thought I was having fun already…

Studio memories

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.

Maintenance

Saddle soap, leather protectant and rags for single tails and floggers in need of a little love and care. A cane or two could stand to be replaced; they’ve been loved a bit too much. Oh look, I’m in need of new clothespins! Should wood or plastic be the new choice? No rips, holes or runs glaringly evident in the ever-growing nylon collection (always on the look-out for new and exciting legwear). Maybe I should treat myself to a pair (or three) of sexy heels…

Acquiring equipment and outfits is always enjoyable. However, maintaining my acquisitions is a lovely way to spend a cool, grey Sunday afternoon.

Remembrances

Going through boxes of papers and old Vault magazines filled with ads of Mistresses from long past, I happily stumbled upon a nondescript, black envelope. Within in were 40 poems, each individually printed on delicate transparent stock, written as an odd mixture of declaration, barely veiled plea and love note from a slave client lover man who, once upon a time, was very special to Me. As soon as I pulled the seal open, removing the unexpectedly heavy bundle, I was struck by a wave of remembrance of our time together.

C. was a large part of My life during the years 1999-2001; someone who managed to move past professional relations and learned defenses right into My romantic considerations. Scary thing, that. I ended up pushing him away and, by omission, into the arms of someone else. He got married not too long before dropping off the radar (which definitely signaled the end of our relationship) and is probably married still. The two of us are lives away from those countless hours spent in quiet, mutual contemplation of his bound self within The Pit in Arena Blaze’s Byzantine Room. However, reading his words so many years later brings Me back to an almost sensual remembering of C. How he looked at Me in a certain way, with open anticipation and many unformed questions in the back of his eyes. The wave and scent of his hair. His skin under My fingers. The rush I felt giving him pain. My delight in his humiliation.

As I sift through each page, I sense Myself sinking deep into his always unspoken feelings for me. I realize I was never very far away from the center of his thoughts.

#1

I am resigned to loving what she has left behind. As space, a phrase, discarded mannerisms. I will populate her absences, and weep for the scent that trails her. This is how I get used to her with another. I, too, am what she has forgotten, at home in areas she has passed through. There is so much country to occupy. Of course others see her as I do, and spend their nights speaking of new goddesses.

#3

Mine is a contained affair. Framed by walls of another’s choice, and a decor of so many timed screams. Can my love ever be equal here, more than local, and meant for every spot you once were. If my intentions have been improved, by better men, and in this same place. Perhaps it’s time to accept an impossible struggle, and a love too ferocious to forget by morning.

#6

This was planned for centuries, give me permission to believe. My blessings mean more if they were thought of through time. A final expression of an emotion, too old now, that waited for generations to rest at your feet. I am comfortable as something inevitable. Let me adjust to this sudden swarming of grace.

Maybe I’ll share more selections as a quiet remembrance of all that transpired between us. Or, am I just longing to see him again?