Tuesday, March 29, 2005

I love San Francisco. It can be such a fun, freaky and sometimes unpredictable city. I was in the Castro on a beautiful sunny day last week browsing through sex shops for cool gear. I found some nicely made leather gags that were much more reasonably priced than the more prominent local SM shops. I must relate a funny exchange I had while in one store. When I asked the young clerk where the gags were, he pointed me to a bin full of novelty toys.

After a moment of sifting through the junk, I spotted an array of gags behind the glass counter. "Oh here they are!" I exclaimed. "Oops," he said. He had thought I had meant gag gifts :-)

I had him pull out an O-ring gag and began to examine it. He looked a bit mystified and seemed to want to say something. Finally he spoke up. "Can I ask you something?" he said a bit hesitantly. "Sure," I said. I was half expecting a little attitude, being a pretty straight-looking woman in a gay sex shop. Instead he asked, "What is that for?" I smiled. He was serious. When I explained that it was to hold a slave's mouth open so you could do things like piss in it, he looked stunned. "I had no idea," he said slowly.

He asked me how I knew so much. I told him I was a professional dominatrix. "What's that?" he asked. "I get paid to top people," I replied. "Wow," he said, "and you can make a living doing that?" I assured him I could.

I then asked the price of an electroplay butt plug attachment and ended up explaining how that worked as well. He seemed genuinely clueless, which was highly amusing given his current employment. It seemed as if he had just gotten off the bus from middle America. "I've only worked here a few weeks," he explained, "and we just got the SM stuff in the other day. But I really want to learn about it all."

"Well, you're in the right place," I said as I left with my purchases.

After popping in and out of a few different shops, I ended up with a nice collection including the o-ring gag and a gag with a mouth filler in the shape of the head of a cock. I also couldn't help but grab a small white hand towel with the word "SLUT" emblazoned in big black letters. That'll be fun to toss at one of my slaves once the slut's been all used up and worn out!

Shopping is definitely a rush of its own. Yet there's nothing quite like picking up a few kinky items to put a perma-grin on my face.

#


The other night I attended a male to female transexual beauty pageant: Model Search 2005 (www.modelfile.net). TS pageants always get me hot. I love over the top sexy women with a twisted edge, so how could I not like T-girls? Many are natural dommes, as their world is by definition a detour from the "norm" and they often combine the aggressiveness of a man with powerful feminine wiles. I can relate to their high sense of aesthetics. After all, I was raised in Hollywood so I dig a little eye candy now and then :-) The Model Search was a fun, feel-good event for a community that remains in the periphery of society. Fortunately, awareness continues to grow -- as evidenced by last year's winner Cassandra making a guest appearance on an episode of the TV show CSI.

I have a thing for good tranny porn. Ever since I turned pro domme, I've had some difficulty watching straight porn. For better or worse, I can no longer fully appreciate the traditional perspective of the male gaze. I am much more critical of how the men try to top the women, wondering whether the women are enjoying themselves and if the working conditions seem to be acceptable. So I am thankful for the recent surge of quality TS porn for saving my viewing pleasure. There's steamy action with masculine and feminine energy. At the same time, I'm not overly identifying to the point of distraction. Some level of objectification is necessary for my arousal!


Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Model Search 2005 winners

Saturday, March 19, 2005

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tuesday, March 8, 2005

I am a woman who knows the dirty thoughts that flicker through men's minds. The undercurrent of sexuality is an invisible force I enjoying playing with. Indeed, it has led to many titillating adventures. Deciphering this language of deep desire happens on a primal level -- the insinuation of subtle cues, the movement of one's body, the direction of one's gaze. Not so much on a conscious level, these feelings of hunger and yearning poke and prod just underneath the surface. It can be especially thrilling to sense these urges within an austere setting where such thoughts are supposedly prohibited: the office, school, even church. Oh yes, that is being bad now isn't it? To feel like a sinner, that's hot.

Then again, I find that those who best manage the paradox of desire -- that inexorable pull to do that which is forbidden -- are the ones who face these urges head on with lightheartedness and kindness. It's the ones who run away from their desires who often have the real hang-ups. Yet it's a balance, as some level of restraint and even shame intensifies one's passion. And there it is, for that's so much of what domination is about: the interplay of restraint and desire. Teasing, teasing, teasing... and denial. Not denial of all pleasure, rather a deliciously depraved detour from the established paradigm of male sexual fulfillment. Playing with the complexity and the conflict, which manifests so well in the dichotomy of pleasure and pain.

In my experience of playing with men's desire, I have driven some into a wild, unthinking frenzy. How many times have I heard the line "I can't help myself!"? So naturally, it should come as no surprise that I would not be satisfied with anything less than complete and utter control over my men. Binding you up to restrict your movement, exposing and tormenting your body to train you to my will, rewarding obedience with the softness of my skin -- if only for a few torturously brief moments. This is how I like to play with men. For if you can't control yourself, I certainly will. . . and enjoy every tantalizing moment of it.

Friday, March 4, 2005

I inhabit the land of Limbo. An in-between place where things are not always what they seem. Neither wholly this nor that, I have always lived between the lines. My birthright assured me of that -- half Asian, half white and born amidst a Latin culture that assumed me as one of its own. I passed for whatever people projected onto me. When I hung out with the hotties of Burbank in college, I was claimed as a white girl. In grade school I watched the more obviously Asian kids get teased relentlessly about their "ching chong" language, while I was accused of pretending not to understand spanish. In high school I had classmates who had been going to school with me since we were little, then senior year they'd finally ask me, "What are you anyway?" I suppose my exotic ethnic ambiguity vexed them, and they couldn't possibly have me graduate without giving them some sort of answer!

When I moved up to San Francisco, its vibrant and diverse Asian communities made me feel like I had found my home. Up here, almost everyone rightly guesses that I am Eurasian. And since the food and culture is so familiar to me, it feels good to be a part of it.

And yet my outsider status continues in other ways. Most obviously as a professional with a non-vanilla career and lifestyle. Even the conventions of the alternative subcultures I identify with are not something I follow.

I don't fit into any neat categories. I am a geek who looks good, which seems to be hard for some to deal with: the beautiful people put off by my quirkiness or the intellectuals who unconsciously discriminate against looks. Where's the love? Oh well, that's life. Not to be taken too seriously, mind you ;-) I'd take being an outsider any day.

Those slaves who appreciate a more esoteric allure, who cherish the beauty of complexity, who see the creativity and humor in life --you get it. And that is a most excellent thing for the Mistress!