Wednesday, December 31, 2003
On to 2004. I see myself continuing to grow as a dominatrix. I also see myself becoming more directed with my blessed amount of free time. I'm heading back to school to study an array of new subjects, allowing it all to coalesce with my existing knowledge and lead me further. Evolving mind, body and spirit in a balance of rigor and playfulness. Developing my writing beyond this lovely little blog that's reignited the fire of words inside me. Discovering and re-discovering myself and the world around me. Carpe diem!
Monday, December 29, 2003
Saturday, December 20, 2003
Monday, December 15, 2003
I notice that there are some who submit to me have a tendency to think aloud certain thoughts that are better left unsaid. Perhaps some of it is nervousness. Or a sense that because they are revealing a side to themselves that is normally secret, that they can really "let their hair down." Yet I think it's important to measure one's words carefully when in the presence of your Mistress, so as to avoid putting your foot in your mouth.
We all make judgments about people. When looking for the perfect domme, it necessarily involves a process of assessing and evaluating one's options. Yet when it comes to the physical specifications which factored into one's decision, I'd rather not have a detailed play-by-play. e.g. "Well I thought you looked hot in your pictures and I have a thing for Eurasians. I was afraid you might be too skinny for my taste, but I decided to give it a try." Don't you think that most Mistresses would be put off by being categorized and objectified in this way? I mean, this is best left unsaid.
Even more distressing is when someone who submits to me uses the occasion of our chatting afterwards to compare my "performance" to that of another Mistress'. What makes this distasteful is that it frames a dominatrix as some sort of product, and furthermore, fosters competitiveness between ladies. I am grateful for feedback on what in a scene went well and what didn't quite work. But I think that most serious dommes would agree that the core of one's nature is what is presented when one dominates. As such, information similar to market research surveys will not really shape what activities I decide to engage in.
Now I know that there are men out there that do see themselves as consumers and prodommes as a product. They are usually hobbyist of all sorts of erotic services, typically seeing professional domination as a nice break from the vanilla fare. And one has every right to see things this way. Perhaps if I were a man, that's how I'd be. But that's neither here nor there.
There are many interpretations of one reality. And in my universe, I am the consumer and my slaves are the product -- to be consumed by me, used and abused for my pleasure, then sent along on their merry way. One of my prodomme friends likes to imagine that she is the one paying to be allowed to dominate her slave. As she gets ready for the scene, she thinks about how much fun she will have with her paid submissive. Now that's a neat trick! You see, for true dommes it really is about our fantasy fulfillment.
Bless you all for playing it my way. . .
Saturday, December 13, 2003
Sunday, December 7, 2003
If you go to Avn.com, you'll see that one of the six chart-topping adult videos is Shemale Domination Nation. It features award-winning porn star female Belladonna playing with Brazilian shemales and male stud Nacho Vidal in hot three-ways (though in keeping with mainstream porn tradition, the cocks don't actually play with one another). It's up there with Up and Cummers and Rocco's Initiations as a top-selling movie. Just a few years ago, mainstream porn stars in scenes with transsexuals would have been unthinkable.
We've gotten to a point where homosexuality is almost completely acceptable. Will & Grace, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, court victories over marriage and sodomy laws. So it would seem a fitting next step to start opening broader society's eyes to even greater diversity in sexuality.
Gender-bending has been around forever and is an acceptable part of some traditional cultures. So it's about time for modern society to catch up. When I try to explain to people that I feel strap-on play is a transgendered experience for me, I sometimes get a blank stare. I think it can be more difficult for people to accept these in-between states. Not completely feminine or masculine -- and no desire to go there either. Limbo can be a destination.
Saturday, December 6, 2003
I got to play with a TENS unit for the first time the other day. TENS stands for Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulation. It's a medical device used for things like long-term back pain. It sends an electrical current through the muscles in different modes and has a scale of intensity from 1-10. I liked the bursts and the one that felt like a bloom. I tried it on myself before using it on my submissive (kudos to RFP man for introducing me to the joys of electroplay). We applied it to the top of the back of my thighs. Wow! I've never enjoyed vibratory sensation but this was different and better. It left my fingers tingling afterward. Later that night, I had a "flashback" -- my muscle retained a memory of the sensation that played back as I drifted to sleep. And it was great for CBT. Torture by remote control! Well then, something to add to my list for Santa ;-)
As my blog has becomes more popular, in some ways it's become more difficult to write. Not because I have writer's block, but because I feel like I have to be more careful in what I say. So let me just state for the record that whatever musings you may find here are just that. My core philosophy, expectations, rules and other information can be found on my xia-bdsm website. But here my remarks may be a bit off-the-cuff, sometimes more a seed an idea than a completely evolved thought. And sometimes I change my mind! So don't take it as the 'word of Goddess'. It's meant to be the starting point for discussion, as well as a peak into my many facets.
Thursday, December 4, 2003
Did you know? Xia means "glow of sunrise or sunset" in Chinese.
Tuesday, December 2, 2003
A couple of things of note for sessions at The Gates. First-time clients are double-booked. This is because it's so common to have no-shows. This is not so much the case for me, so instead sometimes you may find that you've been bumped. To avoid disappointment, contact me directly so I can help coordinate things. Also, if you have never sessioned with me before, I much prefer our initial meeting to be a one-on-one experience rather than a double session. That way, you can have my undivided attention as we get acquainted with one another.
Monday, December 1, 2003
Saturday, November 22, 2003
As a prodomme, I am privy to some gripping tales of shameless, twisted perversion. I admit to a prurient interest in the confessions of those who submit to me. I mean, how could I not get titillated by over-the-top encounters of domination and seduction -- when the everyday turns into the bizarre, when the tiniest speck of a thought turns into action? The cluelessness of innocence turned into unruly passion, then sordid desire. The evolution of the erotic in oneself. It's intriguing to hear how each of us comes into our kink, what seminal moments etched these proclivities into our psyche. Real-life can be so much more interesting than anything they could put out in a movie. It's uncensored, unself-conscious and beholden to no one.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
I've really come to appreciate the support network I have found among the other women at The Gates. We learn and grow together, helping one another stay grounded within the whirlwind of intense energy exchanges. There is range of ages, backgrounds and experience levels -- so many interesting life stories, so many different ways of demonstrating power. The solidarity and sisterhood I feel there is very real. Now, some who follow prodommes have encouraged me to strike out on my own, ostensibly to choose who I want to see and how much I charge. I know that there is a perception that in order to be a top domina, one has to be independent of a house. I disagree. I am selective about who is allowed to see me. And I have my share of generous slaves who insist on compensating me at the rate of an independent. By staying at a house that is owned and run completely by women, I further the cause of female erotic empowerment not only for myself but for others as well. I enjoy the collective atmosphere, and the feedback I get from my colleagues is an important aspect of my personal growth. When one is literally being worshipped from day to day, it can be too easy to slip into delusions of grandeur. Community gives me a safety net so that I keep things in perspective. One day I may find it makes sense to go on my own. But it won't simply be to toot my own horn. Showing off for the boys is not as high on my list as supporting my sisters. And true confidence in my power means I don't follow silly rules about what makes a top-tier dominatrix. I know myself -- and those who serve me know as well.
Monday, November 17, 2003
Sunday, November 9, 2003
Wolf, who is 40, claims that her's is the last generation of women to be truly confident in their beauty and bodies because they have not had to live up to the standards of pornography. But before porn, there was Hollywood and there have always been impossibly beautiful images which the masses have tried to live up to. She mentions that women her age in the gym have natural pubic hairs, while the younger women are all shaved and trimmed like in porn. Professor Wolf, what are you doing staring at all those ladies' bushes?!? Purely for research purposes, I am sure ;-) But seriously, maybe she doesn't realize that this trend is exactly the same for men: older go natural, younger shave and trim. The porn standard goes both ways. So for every women who feels she must "degrade" herself by submitting to anal sex because she sees it in the movies, there is a man who feels pressure to be as gonzo as his favorite director. I am sure there are young women on college campuses who are porn fans too, and expecting greater feats of prowess from their lovers. And maybe there are even a few out there who get a little more twisted, finding that the real fun can come from turning the tables and slut training their men. Mmmmm....... The future of sex -- where will it take you?
Thursday, November 6, 2003
Sunday, November 2, 2003
Friday, October 31, 2003
[Though I am admittedly biased, I do think that fulfilling the fantasy of being dominated by a sexy, smart and twisted woman is one worth taking up. Beyond my own self interest, I see such an exchange as vital to understanding the true nature of sexuality, gender and power in all their malleability. It is similar to how knowing another language broadens one's horizons.]
Above and beyond female domination, there may be other acts which tug at one's psyche. Often it is the unspeakable, the sordid, the shameless. Public exposure, cuckoldry, coerced bisexuality or forced feminization are a few that really seem to hit a nerve. Perhaps this particular activity gets played out in your head whenever you touch yourself. Maybe it is so powerful that you can always rely on it to push you over the edge to orgasm. It's the perfect fantasy. Do you dare make it a reality? Could it ever live up to what you've imagined so well for so long? When it's all said and done, will you still have your fantasy intact?
It reminds me of the dilemma of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden with the fruit of knowledge. To live in peace with what you have -- or some would say blissful ignorance -- or to seek more? And once you know, will you be cast out of the paradise of your own mind's creation? Yet can it ever truly be paradise if it is bottled up rather than shared?
For some, the answer is easy. To live is to act upon one's desires, to pursue what makes one feel good. I know a fellow adventurer of the erotic who sees the fulfillment of his fantasies in terms of the Buddhist ideals of detachment from passion. Each fulfillment extinguishes a fire and brings him closer to the truth.
I too have built up desire, only to see it brought crashing down in flames. Yet from the ashes arose a phoenix, powering my flight to new heights. I wouldn't be where I am today if I had not said "yes" to making my fantasies real. With each step in my evolution, I have mourned the passing of these last vestiges of innocence, while at the same time reveling in my newfound knowledge and powers.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Innately, I possessed the core of a natural domina. And through the gaining of knowledge by direct experience, I have built upon that core to manifest myself as a self-assured woman of many talents. But as they say: the more you know, the more you realize that you know so little, for learning is an endless journey. So I believe humility has its place, no matter how far one has progressed in one's personal development.
True confidence and intelligence do not need to be advertised. And certainly, possession of these qualities should allow for admissions of imperfection or other feelings which may fall outside the portrait of an ominipotent ice queen.
I think I really began to connect with my submissives when I shed that veneer of what I thought a domme should be like, and let them see the real me. In all my dualities and complexities. That's when I realized that the real me is as good as it gets. And getting better all the time. . .
I found this passage by the poet Rashani to be particularly powerful in its elucidation of the dualities of life:
There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken. There is a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable. There is a sorrow beyond all grief, which leads to joy. And a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength. There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss, out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Under Wednesday evening's full moon, I had a dream. At first all was dark,
or at least without light. I sat in a void, aware only of my own breath.
Then, a voice; little more than a whisper, entering the space and wrapping
around me. The fingers of the wind traced lightly over me.
When at last I could see, there was a dark creature beside me. It had the
external form of a beautiful woman, but was more than a woman. It flowed
silently around me, through me. First I could not move. Then I did not
want to move.
The chair vanished, I don't remember how or when or why. I lay on my back
as the hot winds of the desert and the arctic cold washed over my naked
body. I stretched, writhed like some primordial creature, between pain
and not-pain. Vision came and went and came again. My breath came fast
and hard. The other continued to move fluidly, silently, a dark blur
within a space distinct from all other existence. Now the other became
both woman and man, interior and exterior, passive and aggressive, light
and dark, all things at once, and nothing. I melted into it, and it
melted into me. My mind touched its mind for a brief moment, and we
became one entity, twisting through the endless void of eternity, in non
space and non time, forever and in the moment.
Finally the walls of the room once again became apparent. As I came back
to what we call reality, she stood before me, nearly naked, once again in
the form of a beautiful woman. Our smiles expanded, became ripples on a
pond, then waves on an ocean.
Then I stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the full moon, through gnarled
tree branches in silhouette. Once again, I smiled.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Wednesday, October 8, 2003
Personal as Political & Beyond
As the old feminist line goes, the personal is political -- so of course, on some level there are politics to professional BDSM. Being a prodomme in practice is really about enjoying myself and helping others to explore new realms. Yet in theory it very much is a political decision for me to do this kind of work. I feel so fortunate to live in a time and place where a woman can be accepted as multi-faceted - powerful, beautiful, erotic, twisted, bold, intelligent. . . the list goes on. I see my craft as a dedication to all the great women in the world who have dared to walk outside convention, bearing pride instead of shame, to overcome the odds and tell the tale of their discoveries.
I know not all my clients see eye to eye with me on issues of gender, power and the like. And certainly, I'm not one to engage in uncomfortable political discussions when I'm trying to make a connection. So the great thing about doing a scene is that within any particular roleplay and activities one engages in, I have found that there is enough room for each player to interpret and find fulfillment in their own unique fantasy. Ideally, you leave your outer persona at the door and walk into the scene ready to play with a sense of true freedom from the trappings of the "real" world.
Tuesday, October 7, 2003
I realized today that one thing I really like about topping with strap-on play is the visual aspect of being able to see the movement of my "cock" going in and out of my slave's ass (nicely shaven is best). It typically is the penetrator that gets to see the action, while the receptive partner is a bit obscured from what's actually going on, which I've always found a bit frustrating (in my personal life, I used to have a laughably good time holding up a vanity mirror to try to get a peek at what was going on down there!). Perhaps it's all those years of watching porn where the camera is the point of view of the fucker rather than the fuckee (is that a word? ;-) So when I strap it on and train my well-groomed sluts, I truly get a rush from this facet of the female-male role reversal.
Monday, October 6, 2003
Now, I have crafted a life for myself once again. A parallel universe with its own belief system, in almost every sense opposed to convention yet grounded in a superior morality. But this time I pay little heed to "normal"society. Rather than chafe at its bounds, I simply ignore it and choose to live as I do with a sense of freedom. What I have gained is a feeling of contentment and happiness. What I have lost is the sharpness of my perceptions of society at large. It's all right to have one's own little dream world, though not forgetting what lies beyond. . .
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Friday, September 26, 2003
Now, everyone tries so hard to be weird it makes me laugh. It seems like everyone and their brother is tattooed, pierced, dyed and dreaded to prove their anti-establishment credits. But if everyone does it, isn't that just another uniform and not so different from a suit and tie? Some of my friends say I look so much more conventional than I am. I suppose that's been a little victory for me, to have finally conquered the art of appearing completely normal. And I've found that there's a certain power to keeping things on the inside. Like a secret weapon. Clark Kent having his Superman costume hidden underneath his work clothes. There's a titillation to being in the closet. When I used to work in offices, it was especially fun to think about the crazy, kinky fun I would have on my own time when I was at my desk dressed in a mousy cardigan and studious-looking glasses while others boasted loudly of their drunken, frat-boy excesses. Little did they know. . .
Friday, September 19, 2003
I think it could be a blast to do a Matrix-inspired roleplay. There are so many interesting themes to explore. Taking the red pill: a choice between fantasy and reality. To trust another to guide you to a new level of understanding. To revel in the allure of the imagined and be unafraid of the rawness of truth. You've got slick fetish fashion. And an aesthetic where east meets west in the very form of the main character (yes, Keanu is a hapa) and in the mix of martial arts and guns, eastern enlightenment ideas with western heroics. It could have parallels with something more traditional like a vampire role-play but with a more modern, cyberpunk attitude. On a sidenote, I like the look of the new vampire vs. werewolves movie The Underworld for just this reason -- because it updates the genre with a future-forward stylishness.
Thursday, September 11, 2003
Anyways, I've been getting a lot of positive feedback about my blog. I have always been a writer at heart, working as a journalist for community newspapers through out high school, college and immediately afterwards. My own ambition used to weigh me down with an anxiousness over the whole process, leading to a writer's block which lasted for too long. By finally coming full circle and letting go -- very much in keeping with the buddhist ideal of detachment -- I've finally made peace with myself and actually been able to write again. And in that middle time, I experienced so much, gaining precious wisdom of the world. So now my writing is endowed with greater maturity and presence than I could have mustered before. And it'll only get better!
I've been invited to join Friendster by a few but have yet to sign up. The internet is a funny thing. It can be a wonderful tool in building community through newly established ties and long lost friends. But it also has a darker, more addictive side where it sucks you in and replaces the desire to connect in the real world. Does anyone know of a piece of software that could keep one tightly focused on the task at hand, instead of wandering aimlessly in cyberspace in some kind of mentally masturbatory state? We could call it the CyberMistress and you get a shock every time you go off on a tangent :-)
Monday, September 8, 2003
1. Restrained by Desire (Twisted Productions)
2. Submission to Ecstasy (Twisted Productions)
3. Strictly for Pleasure (Twisted Productions)
4. Terms if Enslavement (Ernest Greene)
5. Ivy Manor 3 - Tropical Submission (Gwen Media)
6. Hell on Heals (Wicked Pictures)
7. Rogue Adventures #16 (Joey Silvera)
8. Transexual Gangbangers 7 (Devil's Film)
9. The Other World Kingdom 1
10. Rubber Discipline 3 (Marquis)
11. Transexual Beauty Queens 16 (Androgeny Productions)
12. Extreme Fetish #3 (Hollywood Videos)
13. Extreme Gummi Erotik (Caprice)
Saturday, September 6, 2003
Wednesday, September 3, 2003
Monday, August 25, 2003
First and foremost, I seek to gain greater knowledge and experience new things. I also want to have fun while doing it. I seek recognition, but not fame. Respect, but not adoration. I want to touch the lives of others in deeply powerful and positive ways. Born and raised in Hollywood, I am highly skeptical of the cult of celebrity. In fact, I almost wish for the day when all stars are replaced by computer-generated images! But seriously, my goal in life is to be a renaissance woman. To taste the rich offerings of life. More in a figurative than material sense. And part of that is to not be limited in my sense of self. I have found it quite liberating to retain a sense of mystery. Like a superhero or spy, I move with stealth among the crowds. And for those who seek me out, to meet me in person it is that much more special because I am hidden from the masses, reserved for those who make that extra effort.
One happy side effect of prodomination has been a rekindling of the joys of writing. I never really stopped. But now I am publishing my thoughts again and it gives me great satisfaction to share them with others...
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
Sunday, August 10, 2003
Thursday, July 31, 2003
you won't see them often
for whatever the crowd is
they are not.
these odd ones, not
but from them
and from the
best of the
-From Charles Bukowski's "The Strongest of the Strange"
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Saturday, July 26, 2003
Friday, July 18, 2003
It starts with a whup on the ass. Well not quite. It really starts with you naked and kneeling, just waiting for something that could change you forever. So you kneel. Like in the pews where as a child you waited for confession, absolution, a wafer. That felt right. This feels right too. Only here your sins may not be forgiven, but they will certainly be revealed.
You hear footsteps. Impossibly formidable heels like the ones that neared the door as you stood on the sunny porch of this seemingly run-of-the-mill-looking Victorian, that halted only as the door opened and so you entered with this mix of vague hopes and vague dreads of what could come.
Little did you know. Now, here in this dungeon, the footsteps sound like knocks onto the doors that open into the little dark corners of your soul; only now the pressure changes imperceptibly in this dungeon as the doorknob turns and the door-latch gives in to her will and then the door opens and the impossibly heavy heels enter and resting inside them the delicious feet of the woman who will irrevocably be your mistress, gliding in with the glass of water in one hand (in a disposable plastic cup) for you, which you requested long ago, and in the other hand a ice-cold beer stein of water for her. She places your cup on the floor and hers on a wooden shelf several feet above the floor - and you suddenly understand that this is how it's going to go from now on.
She paces, all patience, all grace of the feline and just when you've gotten used to it she reaches around you and at first it feels good, the silk of her skin brushing against your ribs, it feels like just what you feel you're entitled to - and suddenly you feel the pain shoot inward from your nipples. It is the first of many shots of pain from those twin portals for her power, and eventually they feel like reports of sensation (like the wind in your face on a nasty autumn day) except they get more painful, and ever more painful.
And now, she's whipping your ass.
The last thing your conscious mind recalls is the clamping of the collar on your neck. You'd think the sensation is one of anxiety, but it's relief, the release of control to one better worthy of it, so that the only thing that counts now is something that wasn't among the thousands of things that worried you just a quarter of an hour before - or at any point in your life (now a short blur of indistinguishable memories, that erstwhile life), the only thing that matters is this: what she wants. That's why you secretly wanted the collar all along. Only now when you think of the collar, what you think is: will it come off?
There follows a litany of rituals, each more devastating and yet more fulfilling than the one before: Fleece-lined leather braces on the wrists and ankles, with metal clasps that bind your extremities together. Stand up and be slapped on the face. The ass is tortured further, spanked, abused in every manner it deserves. Finally, the sensuous, vine-like arms navigate around to find your nipples once more and inflict the familiar agony. In a careless moment, you fall into the arms of your torturer; she pulls you upright by the hair and, finding your mouth open, approaches you like a lover about to kiss you. You hear a strange, uneasy sound inside her sinuously slender throat and then she spits into the spittoon of your awaiting kiss. There are a dozen sensations competing for the right to interpret this unprecedented act: In the end, your entire mouth gives in to the sweet sensation of the gift - it has the charge of her power, which you will come to know more forcefully. You gladly swallow. It's inside you now and there it will stay.
Just as you savor this thin triumph, she fastens you to a St Andrew's cross and flogs your mind clear of any thought that was there. She somehow and brutally manages to insert a painful eternity of anticipation between each flog. Just as you're straining to look sidelong in the mirror for some warning of the next flog, it strikes you. Sad but true: you are no match for her. Then she unbinds you and twists you around so you can worship her body. It is a deceptively feminine envelope, that body. Inside crouches a twin power - the ancient, authoritarian dominance that the phallus has laid claim to through history; and the subversive, nimbly feminine antidote that has all along kept it in check. But in a cruel fusion that you never allowed yourself to even consider, the two are not only before you in this body that is now approaching you.
Any fear is elbowed aside by the need to show this body the respect it deserves by coursing your fingers softly up and down its ingenious contours. But there's a problem: your hands are bound behind your back. Now she is so close you can feel her heat on your skin, you strain to inhale the moist breath she exhales. It's so depressing: she knows know exactly what you're thinking, feeling now what you feel even before you do. Dispirited, you're yanked to new heights now because her hands descend to the roots of your hair and pull you to the perfect belly beneath her corset.
Okay, she is merciful. If only the world at large were this merciful. But in the very moment when you're savoring this mercy you find yourself thinking: how the fuck did these clothespins get on my nipples? And then, at some moment in that incoherent fever of pain, her corset - the garment that in its presence symbolized authority itself, but that signifies an even deeper domination with its very removal - comes off. How hard did the gods labor to create this, a perfect navel pierced with a worshipping arc of a ring?.
She walks away, then returns in quite a different state. But I get ahead of myself.
Your mind is unexpectedly visited by a familiar, philosophical thought: why are we always mixing bodies up with gender? It's extraordinarily difficult to change the sex of your body from male to female or female to male. For some, it's very much worth the trouble. But somehow, the order of things arranged it that changing your gender is a snap. There's no trouble involved. Well, actually the trouble is, hardly anyone is comfortable with this very truth. A woman can fuck like a straight woman (she can receive a cock) or like a man (she can give one). And a man can fuck like a woman, or a man. For anyone who is not cripplingly uptight, both are splendidly fun. And both, really, have their own frequency of power.
So it shouldn't be much of a surprise that you now find her firm cock in your mouth. Your first fleeting thought is, this ain't so bad. Hell, a guy could get used to this. It's almost a fantastic joke: such a slim-throated creature is now so thick in your own throat. Then it pushes down deeper, and suddenly it's a great choke. You think you can forego gagging - and this same thought perishes right before you gag. It's a pathetic, altogether helpless gesture. But then she praises you - yes, gag on it, she says - and suddenly it seems glorious. You take it deeper, shove your tongue out, relax those throat muscles (yes, this is how you heard it's done - a seemingly useless factoid gleaned from a magazine article read idly in a dentist's office, or maybe a dull vignette on The Man's Show - which rushes unkempt into the forefront of your consciousness - so earnest is your desire to please this invasive penis). And the result is you gag again. What an ass. But an obedient ass. It's okay, she seems to think it's good enough from you. This is not exactly the moment to overturn the proverbial apple cart.
Now she slides the blindfolds over you. -Can you see? -No, Mistress, I can't see. But there's a sliver of light off on the side. Does that count? It doesn't matter, she's off on the other side of the room. Maybe it's all over now? No, it's not over now. Not by a long shot. After a soft symphony of her movements at a comfortable distance and a tense reprieve for you, she takes the blindfold off and commands you into this suspended harness, the likes of which you've never seen before but that you will never forget. You scuttle right in, you cock-whipped bastard.
So here's where you're thinking at this moment, this very moment when she looks down straight into your eyes and gently announces that she's going to loosen you up. In your delirium, you mistook this for an act of kindness, a sweet caress in a place both cherished and feared by most men that should be a candy reward but is in fact a prelude of a greater violation to come. You're sitting in the suspended harness, as comfortable and carefree as a five-year-old rocking on a swingset. You're looking up at her and see her with a look of devout concentration putting lubricant on her forefingers and studiously bringing them down and then there's this sudden, unexpected warm summer shower up your ass like a whiskey enema.
Later, you'll recall this moment when you looked up at her and you started thinking like some perverted TV jingle: she's in the woman's body, I'm in the man's body, but she's the man, and I'm the woman. Or better yet, we're both some newly evolved creatures that transcended stupid compartments of gender. And just at that instant, she turned her face up and looked straight at you with this steely look and for some inexplicable reason it then softened and she bent down gently until her face was just a few inches above yours, and you could feel the soft summer breeze of her breath on you so clearly that you would just let it in your own mouth and it would be inside of you, and that itself made you pretty fucking happy, and yet you could still feel the power of her cock inside of you too and it conquered you cell by cell until you were her slave not just in name but in unshakeable fact.
Sure, it's never been much of a problem for you to be with a woman who can make you feel like a man fucking a woman. And you won't knock it at all - it's very nice. It's just very, very much the rule. Now you see what a rare exception it is to find a woman who can fuck a man the way a man fucks a woman. And yet, if you think about it in a certain statistical way, that shouldn't be the case. It shouldn't be the case at all. Ever since the introduction of dildos (What? Sometime in the mid-1800s? Around the time - just a coincidence? - of the suffrage movement), women have had the technological means to fuck a man like a man fucks a woman, and yet in this virgin millennium it is still preciously rare.
There's this little Wagnerian opera of her unbearably sexy movements manipulating her penis inside you, and all too soon it's over. You've been fucked. Not fucked like oh,-you're-so-fucked-over or even oh-you're-so-fucked-up, but fully and blissfully fucked. Like, well, like a you think a woman wants to be fucked. Women, you think, should be so lucky to be fucked like this by a man. But now you remember you are a man (those cardboard notions of gender still remain standing in this world) and the demands of masculinity cascade back down upon you. But lucky for you, it's different now. The people shouting gender roles seem like little plastic army men on the ground below you. You knew all along that you're not male or female, you were assigned gender like the postal service assigns a number to your post office box. People are naturally bi-gendered, or maybe ambisexual. This is the idea that brought you here to this dungeon, the notion knocking on your head like heavy high-heels on wooden floors.
Unharnassed and gently succored in aftercare by your mistress, your febrile mind tries to take it all in. Maybe it wasn't, you tell yourself, as humiliating as it seemed. Hey, if it wasn't for the fact that you'd been ass-whupped, nipple tweaked, spat on, viciously face-slapped, clothes-pinned on those selfsame nipples, spanked and then flogged, forced to worship a body without your consent, mouth-raped, fucked but good and left after all is said and done saying thank you very much mistress - if it wasn't for all this, you'd be a lucky little imp.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
I've been curious about the idea of "packing." That is, wearing a dildo underneath my pants to imitate the look and feel of cock and balls. They sell some super-soft dildos at Good Vibes just for this purpose -- not firm enough for penetration but just right for this effect. So kinky. I love it!!!
Thursday, July 10, 2003
I often hear stories of seminal events that occurred in childhood. That seems to be the time when things are etched into our psyche and turn up as kinks later in life. As a sadomasochistic dominant, I can look back on various episodes back then and see how each is like a piece of the puzzle. I was quite dominant as a little girl – yes, I was a brat. I ordered my older brothers around. For whatever reason, in my family’s house they had to do chores but I never did. So they basically waited on me. I was also a sadist, though not necessarily a pure-hearted one. I recall seeing my little brother standing on a stool reaching for something in the cupboard. I wanted to see what it would be like to watch him fall, so I pulled the stool out from under him. I confess these things now, there is not pride for these actions. It simply helps explain who I am. And there is my masochistic side. I remember jokingly hitting a boy I liked over the head with a tetherball – I know, more sadism, but wait there’s more! He was not amused and retaliated by repeatedly throwing his flip-flops at my bare feet. It stung but I kept laughing because I didn’t want to show that it hurt. I thought it was very brave to hold the pain inside.
People often associate sadism with strength and masochism with weakness. Yet to take pain into one’s body and hold it there and then take more – to me, that can be a very brave thing to do. And sadism unchecked by morality is a weak and evil thing.
Masochism is interesting in that it is often used to describe what women do to themselves. Troubled girls who starve themselves, or cut themselves or let themselves be hurt by another. It’s funny how the world can look so different depending on one’s perspective. Because to me, masochism is not that different from another similar-sounding word – machismo or being macho. To be a real man, you take the pain and keep on going, you are tough and roll with the punches. And you have the war wounds to prove it. How is that so different from masochism?
I recall a conversation I had with a man who used to perpetually frustrate me. He was one of these men who put everything that a woman said through a filter of what he defined as womanhood: to him, weakness, simplicity and manipulation. He was a chauvinist, but in such in a subtle way that he could still come off as hip and have a girlfriend who was into goddess worship. I was telling a group of people a story about when I was in high school. I used to compete in speech and debate tournaments every weekend for almost 4 years. I almost always came home with a trophy – there are hundreds still in storage at my parents’ house. I used to get so worked up over winning that sometimes I’d get laryngitis. It came like clockwork right before the competition and I’m sure it was psychosomatically induced. I’d compete anyways hoarse voice and all, slay dragons, then take my trophy home. Then the next day it would go away, only to come back again for the next tournament the following weekend. So I told this story and the chauvinist says to me, “My, you are a fragile girl.” That’s what he got out of my story. Very different from my perspective, to say the least!
Suffering as weakness. Suffering as strength. Masochism versus Machismo.
Wednesday, July 9, 2003
Tuesday, July 8, 2003
Thursday, July 3, 2003
Wednesday, July 2, 2003
Here is my answer to the a question posted on Max about why young women would choose to prodomme:
Though I am still in my late 20s, I have been a seeker in life and have sought out a diversity of experiences over the past 12 years. I started working when I was 15. I’ve had a career as a journalist and in sales & marketing. I have a college degree and have traveled and studied around the world. And I have been in touch with my sexuality from early on. I grew up in a feminist household where issues of gender and power were often a focus of discussion. So even though I’d been interested in erotic work for some time, the vanilla roles I was familiar with --- stripping and porn – were not quite right for me (the thought of acting submissively to men in an erotic situation didn’t suit me, I didn’t like that men controlled these businesses). Meanwhile, I continued to explore on a personal level polyamory, bisexuality (7+ years of strap-on experience!), and gender-bending. But it wasn’t until I met and became lovers with a woman who revealed that she was a dominatrix did I finally find this truly exciting and fulfilling role. I’ve been a prodomme for a little over a year and it’s amazing how it continues to be so rewarding on so many levels. So I think biological age does not always reflect the depth of one’s life experiences.
Tuesday, July 1, 2003
Saturday, June 28, 2003
I had a first the other day. It's usually my clients that are "de-virginized" in some fashion (And I feel truly honored to have had several clients choose me as their first strap-on experience). Before this past week, I had never professionally topped another woman. It was wonderful! I look forward to playing with more lovely ladies and couples :-)
Monday, June 23, 2003
Friday, June 20, 2003
Thinking about some of the things I read, watched or experienced that have influenced my psyche. Here are some of the contributing factors to my wild imagination:
>Comic Books including Elf Quest, X-Men (the Dark Phoenix saga, the very SM-themed Hellfire Club)
> Anime series Robotech (especially the first Macross)
>Speculative Fiction ala Harlan Ellison
>Cyberpunk (especially William Gibson's Burning Chrome -- the first Matrix movie finally got this genre translated into film in a good way)
>Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age (beyond Cyberpunk -- a future of nanotech and subculture nation-states. if you've read it, you may recall the scene with a Eurasian dominatrix!)
>Dungeons and Dragons and other fantasyfare
OK so now you know I'm really just a big geek in the body of a vixen. Ha ha revenge of the nerds ;-)
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
On to sexier subjects. Eva Mendez is an up and coming actress. I had the privilege of meeting her a few years back. I'm from Hollywood and have met more than my share of shallow aspiring actors. But Eva is different. She was one of the nicest, sweetest women I've ever met who is also incredibly sexy and charming. She also speaks her mind -- check out her interview in the latest issue of GQ.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
I should strap on my detachable penis and enter the Faux T-Girl Pageant. I'm serious. I definitely have a penis in my brain (OK so I'm copying Madonna -- she said it first in her hot coffee table photo book SEX, but it works for me too ;-)
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Saturday, June 7, 2003
I am currently working on switching over my website from a sitebuilder framework into php. I'll be completely changing the look and feel of it. I'll also be adding 2 new pages to the gallery with images from a recent shoot with Medea Media. Watch out for it...
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
The question arises as to why I choose to take sessions in a commercial house rather than be an independent domme. Sisterhood and security are both big factors. I enjoy the sense of perspective I get at The Gates. We all watch each other experience similar ups and downs, all the while supporting one another and helping to keep each other down to earth. Undoubtedly, the ego can get tied up in this line of work -- where one's role is to be served and worshipped, to use one's powers to toy with another. Yet when I step out of session and into our private area where my fellow dommes are lounging in their street clothes, I am reminded how it is all just a game. Well, not just any game -- one that can be amazing, fun, incredibly erotic and even therapeutic.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
Friday, May 16, 2003
Sunday, May 11, 2003
Wednesday, May 7, 2003
I don't really watch TV too much, but I remember a few years back watching an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They had this demon character who was also the principal of the school. He was supposed to be supremely evil and they portrayed him as a real Mr. Rogers/ Ned Flanders goody-two-shoes type. Like he'd order the killing of some of the good guys, then offer his minions some cookies and milk. It was funny but also eerie to see evil portrayed in this way.
I'm starting to think that those who represent themselves as the most holier-than-thou may be, for all intents and purposes, the most evil. In the sense that they hold humanity up to impossible standards -- standards they themselves could never live up to. As such, they are automatically hypocrites. And beyond that, they are also self-consciously aware that their castigation and punishment of others is under-handed and wrong. They give themselves a break but let the rest of us suffer for our "sins."
Of course, one may ask what is good and what is evil? Cultural relativism vs. moral absolutism. I'll save that one for another post...
Thursday, May 1, 2003
Sunday, April 27, 2003
OK so I take back what I said earlier about Slippery Stuff lube. It's good with gloves on, but without it can make your fingertips turn into little prunes. My old favorite is Liquid Silk -- more expensive but worth it for the nice, creamy look and feel. Yes, it does bear a passing resemblance to you know what, you slut!
Over and out.
Friday, April 25, 2003
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
Thursday, April 17, 2003
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
Of course, where once the pendulum swung too far in one direction (i.e. denial of the existence of the G-spot and/or female ejaculation), now it swings in the other direction. There's a lot of hype now, with popular lines of porn featuring "rain women", "gushers" and the like. But before we all crumple under performance pressure, know that many of those performances are rigged. One trick is to pour a small bottle's worth of water into the actress' vagina while she is on her back. Then on cue, she contracts her muscles to forcefully push the liquid out. Quite the party trick, but definitely not female ejaculation.
Monday, April 14, 2003
I've been thinking about the origins of of my own kinkiness, as well as how BDSM and gender-play differ from more vanilla explorations. It's often about playing with what others take so damn seriously. Shining a light in those dark corners, yet rather than exclaiming "Evil reigns here!", we laugh and joke, tease and twist, and bask in the glory of it all. I took a workshop from the Fetish Diva Midori a few months ago that made me re-examine influential experiences in life. One that I hadn't really perceived in this way before was my membership in a local sorority in college (If you wanted to join, you were automatically accepted, so it was more of a social club for women rather than the traditional, exclusive sorority). Similar to Midori's tenure in the U.S. military, my participation in this group allowed me to indulge in my fetish for heirarchy and order, among other things. I especially enjoyed the pledge period with the requisite hazing from our older sisters as well as some of the fraternities. At the time, I loved playing the role of the submissive pledge. We were given embarrassing nicknames, had to fetch things for our superiors, recite memorized lines, and publicly humiliate ourselves in other good, fun ways. Of course, rather than demonstrate an endurance for pain, we had to show our ability to drink lots and lots of liquor! Mind you, these days all my play is safe, sane and consensual -- so much better that way :-)
Friday, April 11, 2003
Thursday, April 10, 2003
Wednesday, April 9, 2003
I went with a friend who got into a long, involved discussion with people working there about what makes a quality dildo. Good Vibes mainly carries silicon toys. My friend doesn't like them because they are quite porous on the surface, which can be irritating and also leave yucky post-play buildup. The sales clerks said that's why a condom should always be used. But my friend doesn't want to have to use condoms for his personal toys. He also hates how all the new toys have big heads on them, says that can rip up his anus. He actually likes the cheaper dildos available at your old school, sleazy sex shop. I wonder if he is alone is his views? Are the new, hand-crafted, expensive toys better than the stuff mass made in China and sold for "novelty purposes only" or are they overrated? I told him he should get the materials to make his own toys if he really wants to be satisfied! When someone has a passion for something, and a clear vision of what they want to create, that's often when you get the best products.
Tuesday, April 8, 2003
Monday, April 7, 2003
During anal play, it's important to take long, slow and deep breaths to really open yourself up. If you've ever done yoga, you know what I'm talking about. You know, it always kills me when I see a porn where the man sticks his finger up the woman's ass without any lube. It's obvious to me that the actress has inserted some lube up herself off screen. But I worry that many viewers are led astray by this portrayal and actually think that there is some sort of natural lubrication in the anus. And I have heard more than a few horror stories where the person unexpectedly and painfully realized that their play partner was trying to finger them down there completely dry. This can be a serious party pooper, since once irritated it's usually out of commission. The key to anal play is lots of lube, a high level of trust between the players, an understanding of the body's workings, and the use of subtle relaxation techniques. I recommend incorporating this type of play in sissy slut training and I strongly believe that it should never be done so forcefully or roughly as to cause sharp pain -- not my kind of sadomasochism! For more info about anal health and care, check out my book recommendations on my site.
Sunday, April 6, 2003
Saturday, April 5, 2003
Thursday, April 3, 2003
Thursday, March 27, 2003
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
I just saw the second issue of American Dommes magazine. Very slick -- the editor says they were influenced by the look of Adult Video News. The mainstreaming of BDSM/fetish? Perhaps. Speaking of which, "Fashionistas" is a rather nice example. The only thing that made me cringe was the line, "You look so rad in that latex." No doubt, the popularity of this video has been enhanced by its prominent featuring in Diane Sawyer's ultra-judgmental Dateline expose of women's treatment in that industry. Ah well, things are never so simple as black and white. . . thank the gods for that!