Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category

Talk to her

Today I had an appointment all set up ready to go, but when I sent the directions to my playspace, the client said, “Wait a minute…I saw a domme there a few years ago. Was that you?”

A strange moment for sure. If he didn’t return to see me again back then, it’s likely that if the answer is “yes,” he won’t want to see me now. But sorting my inbox by “from” tells me that yes, in fact, I saw him back in ’05. I was just getting started as a domme then, and it turns out that my guess was correct: he didn’t think we were a match, as the previous session hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped, and he wound up canceling.

I was sad to lose a session, but the incident wound up opening a dialogue, not only about how I’ve grown and changed as a domme since then, but also about how potential clients express their interests and desires to me.

He told me back then that his fantasy was “forced domination,” and that he loved being told what to do. In the session I put him through positions drills, then bound him and applied some electrotorture. He’d wanted a more “sensual” session, and was disappointed.

This time, he told me about wanting things to be sensual, expressed himself more thoroughly (though still rather taciturnly and generally), and I had completely different plans: I’d dress more softly, order him to strip, comment on his body in humiliating ways. Make him wear panties. Probably tie and tease him, spank him a little, maybe let him suck a strap-on if I was getting really into it. Talking in my low voice all the time, finding those words that make him blush and wince.

At this point in the game, I can read people well, but I’m still not a mind-reader, particularly if you are shy and holding back the things that really matter to you. How am I going to know how important, say, face-slapping is to you if you don’t tell me? Unless it’s specifically mentioned, it happens to be something I use sparingly because of the baggage that a lot of people have around it. If you tell me that you want to be ordered around, well okay: am I your drill sergeant, your nurse, or your dominating girlfriend?

My hope is that this conversation will open up the possibility of this client and I being able to session together again, more successfully. I know more, now. But you have to tell me what you know, too.

Talk to me, people. I’ll listen. I can’t be anyone and everyone you want me to be, but I do have range.

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I’m reposting some of the tastier bits from my old livejournal here. Here’s one from ’06, now new and improved with pictures.


Those of you who didn’t get to see me at the Flea…your loss, I suppose. 😉 It was a great time. This year it took place all the way in Mansfield, at the Holiday Inn there, and it was a pretty good venue for it. We had the whole hotel, with no prim vanilla folk to worry us. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against vanilla folk…who don’t try to dictate how I live my life. But after the incident over at the Boston Park Plaza a few years ago, and the scathing Globe editorial that followed, I was happy to have a hotel whose staff seemed thrilled to have us and where there were no judgmental jerks walking around.

I didn’t get a great deal of shopping done, though I took a lot of business cards. Someone very dear to me did some shopping for me, and took me around at the end of the event to approve and buy the things he’d found. So I didn’t feel at a total loss.

The exciting bits, though, were the demos, which I did in the art gallery run by the fabulous Monique of Blacklight Studios.

On Saturday I did a fun clothespin scene with the help of the lovely Lady J and one of her slaves. I tied his hands behind his back, then ran two lovely purple zippers from his shoulders down to his belly. His arms, front and back, I covered with still more clothespins. Finally, I took a heavy weighted gag and put it in his mouth, then tied the ends of it to the ends of the zippers.

Guess what would happen if he opened his mouth?

The dear was such a good sport. I invited folks to come up and take clothespins off of him, which he braved like a champ. This was a chatty, smart-assed sub, let me tell you, and it was fun to watch him sweat buckets and shut his mouth – both out of the compulsion of the gag and the depth of what he was experiencing. In the end, he didn’t drop the gag by accident, but like a good slave, he knew what the crowd was waiting for, and he dropped it, tearing both zippers off all at once.

His scream was my best reward. Second were the gasps and winces of the people watching.

Sunday was an even better time. I expected to have one submissive, but wound up with two: a big sexy bald fellow, and a tiny, cute-as-a-button girl. I had already decided to do a predicament scene, but now had the challenge of making them work together.

I applied clover-leaf nipple clamps, with the classic chain between, to the man’s chest. Then, using a simple rope-and-pulley system, I attached the chain to the woman’s wrists. As long as she held her arms out to the sides, the tension on the clamps was off. But if she lowered them, the chain would be pulled taut.

Next, I put a vibrating egg in her pants. This egg was operated with two doorbells, rigged by an engineering friend of mine (Thanks!). You had to press both doorbells to make the vibrator work.

One doorbell was in the man’s hand. The other, at the small of the woman’s back.

Well, she was just so sweet that she couldn’t stand to hurt the poor guy. But she couldn’t hold up her arms forever, and anyway, the temptation of the vibrator was strong…not to mention that they kind of liked each other, and he really wanted to see her come. But did I mention how much he hates nipple clamps?

What resulted was a very sexy scene where I hardly had to do anything except walk around with my whip and occasionally dole out a lash or two, make sure the lines didn’t get tangled, and make smart remarks to the audience.

And the whole thing was vastly improved by the fact that both of them were in full body paint. He looked like he was body-armored in metal; she looked like a pink water sprite, some kind of magical salamander with glittering hair.
painted predicament
It was gorgeous. Especially when she bucked, still holding one arm bravely in the air, balancing her tiny frame on his strong knee.

Sometimes I love my job.

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