Tuesday, March 31, 2009

I have my own space...

And have since December. It's in downtown NYC. I share it with Mistress Alex.

FYI for anyone who wasn't already aware. We are completely private and well-equipped, save for suspension and other nominal things which we are in the process of procuring.


xoxo.

Monday, March 30, 2009

"Sub"mitted for your perusal...


Below is a website with a link to a 46-page survey, which claims to be the most "detailed survey yet performed of BDSM services". There is also an email list which you may be added to, which updates subscribers with conclusions the researchers draw from analyzing the questionaire. There is still time to fill out the survey and submit it, although they say they have all of the results they need to make preliminary assessments. The survey seems to be the brainchild of the author of, "On the Safe Edge: A Manual for SM Play".

Sex Research Survey

If you read through the survey, it is really quite in-depth. I can't wait to see what conclusions they come to, although I am a little apprehensive about it's perceived validity, seeing as how it is not coming from a scholarly organization. A part of me wants to give academia the finger and say bugger off, but another part of me wonders how accepted the results will be if they are simply the musings of a private individual (he is highly educated, but not a psychologist)- no matter how fact-based his conclusions might be.

Another problem I have is that it does not seem to make a delineation between BDSM activities which are paid for, and those that are experienced in a lifestyle capacity. It also does not want to approach those who are into fetishism alone. Nonetheless, I feel it is a start. I wish there was there was a wider interest amongst psychologists and sociologists about BDSM. If anyone has different sources, information, etc, please feel free to post in the comments section.

Recap: There was a phone interview done in Australia last year, in which the researchers came to the conclusion that BDSM actually had a positive effect upon one's general health and well-being. Scroll down to August of 2008 for the full article, or click here:

Bondage Lovers Not Abnormal


Alas, the man above may have to wait a little while longer for researchers to notice him. That is, if he is not transported back to Munchkinland by way of spinning circus tent.


xoxo.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

New Toys!

I was in Purple Passion yesterday to look around and maybe get a new plastic cane. Well, suffice to say, I came away with more than I was originally intending.

So, raise your hand if you are curious to try out my new lexan cane, metal forceps, and sounds kit. I sterilized the kit last night, and am very badly wanting to fuck a cock hole with them!

Also, I'd like to give a shout out to my homey Tim, who sent me three different paddles as a house warming gift for my dungeon. One of them is a nice, light birchwood paddle, and two are lexan. I hope you are preparing your ass for a brutal thrashing, my friend!


xoxo.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Freshly Updated Website...

Yes, it's true. New pictures, new text, new ways to contact me.

Please note that the email I will be obsessively checking is now mistressveronicanyc@gmail.com, not mistressveronica13@yahoo.com. Yahoo is for losers. Gmail is the cool email now, so consider yourself told. Ha, just kidding.

The name of the website is still the same, of course: http://www.mistressveronicanyc.com.

So find a lonely computer in a dark room, and get to business. Because I know that's what you do...


xoxo.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Brooklyn's got class out it's ass... Hootie hoot!

Some of the strangest things happen to me when I go on meandering walks through Brooklyn.

So, I stopped in a smoothie shop around nine o'clock. The clerk was a young kid, couldn't be older than 19. He's very friendly (overly so for someone who works in a smoothie shop) and I decide to order a Pina Colada (I love coconut milk, yum). He says, "Oooh pina colaaada! You make with vodka, no?" Being a bartender in a previous life, and not being able to pass up a chance to show my mixology knowledge, I bark back, no that has rum in it. "No vodka in pina colada? Too bad!" Devious smile, as he shakes his head. I sense that he wants to strike up a conversation and promptly walk over to a table where I spy an unopened Village Voice and pretend like I'm reading it. "Sure no vodka?" As he holds up a bottle of cheap-assed bottom shelf swill that has about a quarter of an inch left in it, next to the concoction that is soon to become my refreshing fruit drink. "NO! No vodka! I do not want any, please!" Wanting to jump over the counter and rip it out of his hand (even if I did, it was probably all backwash anyway- ew). Finally realizing that his attempt to endear himself had gone horribly awry, he said, " Oh, you know I was just kidding, right. I mean, it was a joke." I say sure, kid, sure, (just give me my unadulterated fresh fruity beverage and let me leave!!) I pay for it, take a sip to make sure there are no roofies in it, and escape with The Voice jauntily tucked under my arm.

I walk a few more blocks until a new burger joint catches my eye, called "Comic Burger". Oh my god, how brilliant is that to have a fast food shop that caters especially to geeks? Of course it is filled with dork-boys who are on a brief interlude from their World of Warcraft missions. Flipping through the Voice, two high school girls walk in, each texting furiously and sit down behind me. I am reading an article about a movie called Hunger, which I'm dying to see (ha ha! Bad joke) and all of a sudden I hear- smack suck slurp burp smack. Finger sucking sounds. Eating with mouth wide fucking open sounds. Disgusting. Just as that happens, a morbidly obese couple walks in, and the woman starts talking to the waitress, "Ohmigawwwd, I luv ya stowah! Ids sowandaful. I wanna burgah." More finger licking sounds from behind me. "Git dat ketchup bottle honey. Whair's a big table, I wanna sit at dah biggest table." (I bet you do) Lip smack, suck... I don't know about you, but when someone sucks their fingers constantly when they eat, it's just gross. I didn't see them go to the bathroom to wash their hands beforehand either. Appalling. My look to see who was making these deplorable noises turned promptly to disgust then disbelief. The girls just ignored me, ignorantly chomping away at their presumedly juicy sandwiches. I left with a shudder, the fat couple blathering away loudly.

Walking, walking, then all of a sudden I hear, blaow blaow! Okay, it's not a gun... Blaow blaow blaow! Okay, it's someone saying that really loudly, there's a fight but I can't see it. Walking, walking... All of a sudden, this lady storms out of a convenience store right in front of me, "You niggas, fuck ya'll niggas, I don't need yo niggas!" dressed in red spandex with bleach blonde hair. The only response from the store is, blaow! blaow! blaow! And back, niggas, niggas, niggas. With out missing a beat, a kid walks up to her in the middle of her tirade and asks her for a cigarette. She obliges him, then back to niggas this niggas that. The men in the store continue "Blaow-ing" back- a noise presumedly meant to say that she's not wanted there.

I continued my walk, just thinking, wow, I love this place.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

25 of my DIRTIEST secrets...

or else other information which might surprise (an answer to a post of the same name on MF):

1. I'm a peeping tom. I look in people's windows when I walk by.

2. Conversely, I am an exhibitionist and love to get changed in front of open windows, or else shower with a window open.

3. I have passed out on a sidewalk.

4. I have thrown someone down a flight of stairs (believe me, he deserved it, and was unscathed other than his ego).

5. I won the church hula hoop contest when I was 14.

6. All of my teenage crushes have turned out to be gay, therefore making me a fag hag by proxy. (And proud of it!)

7. I've fucked underneath the Irish Hunger Memorial Garden.

8. When walking around late at night, I look for open doors to apartment buildings, so I that I can climb onto the rooftop to check out the view.

9. I can hold my liquor better than you.

10. I once jerked my beau off beneath a table while chatting with friends at a restaurant.

11. I'm a certified herbalist.

12. My first foray into the scene was as a sub (gasp!), and was a guinea pig for a couple who collected antique doctor's equipment.

13. I have licked ass. If you had seen it, you wouldn't be able to help yourself either.

14. i was banned from the senior prom.

15. I listen to the radio constantly, although I often shut it off in a fit of frustration.

16. I snuck out of the house once to go to the Billy Joel/ Elton John "Flaming Piano's" concert. I'm not proud of it. My tastes have changed vastly since then.

17. I am bored with MF most of the time.

18. I used to have surreptitious make out sessions on my bed with a neighbor while my parents were at work when I was 13. He was 16.

19. I sold everything I owned when I was 25 to go to Europe.

20. I hate yuppies, but will take their money.

21. I've worked for Harvard University.

22. I ardently love Dirty Dancing, and will argue the progressiveness of it's themes and the subtleties of the dialogue until I'm blue in the face.

23. I think I am a terrific rapper, but that might be because no one else has ever heard me.

24. I own a pink butt plug.

25. I just joined Twitter, but am unsure whether that makes me a douche bag.


FYI- My handle is MstrssVeronica

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Another day at the office...(part one)

Flipping through the day’s set of detention slips, I put my feet on my desk, resting for a moment from a full day of disciplinary duties. Today was especially tiring, as I performed a routine locker check that always reveals the depth of depravity that surrounds me. That, coupled with the revelation that two teachers had been caught "talking closely" in a corner of the gymnasium, and a fight had broken out in the hallway.

It is always exasperating to have to discipline one's peers, but the teachers were quite apologetic in fear of their jobs. As they were both female, I expressed my dismay through the administration of an enthusiastic paddling, in which I implored Satan to be released from their buttocks. I then issued a warning and commanded they acknowledge their shameful act to the vicar, who has more experience in these matters than I.

The female students who had started a fight in the hallway had almost ripped each other's clothes to pieces in their passionate quarrel. The nurse had to be called, and one of the girl's skirts was completely ripped off. I ordered them all into my office, regardless of their disheveled state, and made them apologize and shake hands before I gave each of them ten swift strokes with my rattan cane. I then ordered them to leave my presence to ponder the futility of their violence, detention slips in hand. Sniffling and rubbing their rosy red hindquarters, I believe they left with a renewed sense of what it means to be a lady.

Now, finally able to rest, I glance over at my wall of implements and smile. The cane sits jauntily in it’s receptacle, almost begging to be picked up in order exert yet more of it's influence. I finger it lightly, then grab it and swipe it through the air to hear it whistle. A small giggle escapes my lips. Oh, but there is still more work to be done! I button my blouse up to the top, straighten my skirt, and fix any stray wisps of hair away from my face as I remember that Thomas, a new student, has still to walk through my door. I would politely describe him as "obedience challenged", as he has only been in my charge for two weeks, but has already been tardy three times, and has fallen asleep during his English class. Recalling these infractions, I swipe the cane three more times. Clearing my throat, I lean on my desk and call him in.

“Good afternoon, Thomas.”

“Hi, Ms. Wolfe.”

“Sit down.” I point with the cane to a small chair, which I keep across from my desk. The height of it makes him look more diminutive than a normal one might. I loom over him, a good four feet, arms folded. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, I have no idea.”

“Really? You’ve absolutely no notion of why you would be called down to my office.” I demand, rather than ask.

“No, ma’am.”

“Perhaps you could be induced to remember if I told you that I performed a routine locker check today.”

“No, ma’am, I have no idea how my locker contents could get me in trouble, ma’am.”

“Are you telling me that you are not aware of the contents of your own locker?”

“No, ma’am.”

My patience is wearing thin. He has been given a chance to confess, which he refuses to take. Does he really think he can get away with such insolence? I grab his jaw, perhaps a little harder than he would expect.

“Don’t play games with me, Thomas.”

He squirms, trying to break free of my grip. His eyes flash with fear. I look down at him, raising one eyebrow, and bringing my face closer to his. He is an audacious little thing, and doesn’t seem to know quite what he’s gotten himself into.

“There’s nothing bad in my locker ma’am, if there is, it was put in there by someone else, I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I sense him turning scenarios and lies over in his mind, trying to decide on an alibi. I stare into his eyes. He is my prey. He swallows, and can’t hold my gaze. I know he is lying. I walk behind him, slowly, deliberately. I put both hands on his shoulders, rubbing them softly, and then taking hold of them. I whisper in his ear, “Thomas, don’t dig yourself deeper than you already have.” I make sure that my voice is as soft as my caresses, and that my lips lightly touch the lobe of his ear, almost a kiss.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wolfe, I honestly don’t know why I’m here.”

He’s made the decision to withold information, and therefore to disrespect me. Obviously, he needs to be introduced to my special “behavioral modification techniques”. I tell him to strip.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me. Do it now.”

“This is highly unorthodox, ma’am.”

I take the herbal contraband out of my desk and hold it in front of his face. “Is that so? Would you rather I call the police? Surely they would not tolerate such substances being brought to school. In fact, I doubt they would have any reservations about recommending you to a juvenile detention center.” His face becomes more serious as he realizes the gravity of his situation. “I see that you recognize the contents. Undress. Now.” It makes me smile to watch him take his clothes off hurriedly, as if they were burning him. He undresses to reveal his deliciously lithe body, sinewy and alive with a faint, glistening glow all over him. His odor wafts toward me, and I walk around him, drinking it in. He stands with his head down.

"When I said undress, everything must come off." He looks at me pleadingly, as if to say, why? I seize the opportunity to smack his round, toned ass.

"Everything. Off. Now."


To Be Continued…

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Digital vs. Analog

Like You Needed Reminding...






Of what a Hot Bitch I am. Pretty pleased with the photo shoot I had yesterday, and here are some of the gems that came out of it. They will be added to my website with new text (yay!) by the end of the week. I thought I would give my blog readers a sneak peek, in appreciation for keeping up with my musings.

xoxo.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Party Time, Excellent!

Doolee doolee doolee doolee do! Nevermind, if you've never seen Wayne's World.

What I meant by that excitable title is that Ms. Alex and I had a party at our play space for our Mistress friends last Tuesday, that was excellent fun- and YOU missed it! Ha ha! However, here is a general account of what happened on that dark and stormy night...

Alex wore a tux, and I was in my 9-inch tall platform boots with a leather skirt and vamp 60's biker chick eyeliner carefully applied. We were "Mommy and Daddy" as it were, with a twist.

I had instructed two of our favorite slaves a few days in advance that they would be serving at this event, and gave them a detailed email including what was expected of them in terms of dress, demeanor, wine and table service, and preparation. Both slaves were very enthusiastic, and one even went to the extent of fully transforming himself (ahem, in terms of clothing) with maid's outfit, wig, and high heels. We were very proud of him. They were told to print out the email that I gave them, and to research the eight or so different wines we would have for the ladies to choose from. Hence, they were to know which wine a lady might properly imbibe with her meal.

Alex and I decided that the "girls" names for the evening would be "Spunk" (a name I chose for Thomas a long time ago) and that our little maid would be called "Lolita". We then showed them how to curtsy, and had them complete their preparation work, re: setting the table, opening the red wine, transforming the dungeon into a dining room, and making sure the cook (one of Alex's slaves who was trained at the Cordon Bleu) was accommodated in any way he required. I tied Spunk's apron in a nice bow, and made sure Lolita's wig was on nice and straight.

As the ladies arrived, Spunk took their coats, and Lolita asked them if they would like any Villa Crespia (a sparkling Italian wine similar to champagne). The ladies then retired with us to the living room for hors d'oeuvres and conversation.

From this point on, all pretense of propriety and vanilla-esque behavior promptly stopped.

Get eight Dommes with a torrential flow of wine in a room with two very submissive, compliant slaves, and all hell will eventually break loose.

Lolita was directed to look up dirty limericks, while frantically researching them on his iPhone and listen to our demands at the same time for, "More pate!" "More wine!" "No, a different one!" "Hold the ashtray in front of me!!" It was funny to watch "her" scurry around, not knowing which order to fulfill first, teetering the whole time in her heels. Mistress Alex spanked "her" for some or other arbitrary infraction, as did I.

This prompted the Ladies of course throw Spunk on his back in a matter of seconds- a Mistress had already raided the implement closet in order to slap his inner thigh with my riding crop. He was writhing on the floor, moaning, as she gave him 20 swift, well-aimed blows. I then decided that it was time to show off his little ass, and unzipped his little boy shorts so that I could take him over my knee. As I did this, Alex exclaimed, "His ass! It's like you're peeling a peach! Like a soft fuzzy peach!" I rubbed his ass, feeling him make himself comfortable over my lap and gave him ten cupped-hand blows right on his little sweet spot. He sighed and squirmed, and I offered him to Mistress Devon, imploring her to use the wooden spoon. He always bruises prettiest with that. She obliged me, and taking the spoon, promptly gave him ten solid whacks with it, leaving him breathless and limp. I really wanted to show him off at this point, so took a single-tail out of the closet and made him stand in the corner. He cowered, and gave me his one-eyed, open-mouthed look that implies he's up for a challenge. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! I cracked the whip behind him, so that he could hear the noise that it would make on his hind-quarters. I then hit him repeatedly on his back one after the other, swiping him with the tip (glad to see that the wine had not yet gotten in the way of my aim) rubbing his poor back and ass between intervals. I then handed the single tail to Mistress Alex, and she continued my barrage of pain in a swift, unrelenting manner that made him lose his position. I ordered him to point his ass out, hands on the wall, and not to clench. He did so. I then went to the closet to fetch the flogger I made out of speakerwire to really give the ladies a show. He had described the pain to me previously as being hit with eight canes at once, which I repeated for the Ladies, much to their delight. He took each of my heavy-handed blows dutifully, as he always does. Oh, poor Spunk. We really are so nasty to him. All of course, done out of love. There was a request by one of the Ladies for a speakerwire flogger of her own, which I enthusiastically plan to provide for Her.

"Lolita" stepped forward to announce that she had found a limerick. She was then ordered again to get on her knees for a ripe spanking, as she had spoken with out being asked. Her ass got apple red, and I used her as a foot stool, of which Mistress Alex promptly took a picture. Ha ha!

Hijinks ensued, loud conversation, arguments over which wine who had gotten, more spankings,

Thursday, March 5, 2009

9 to 5 The Musical!

Okay, wait! Before you start rolling your eyes- the kidnapping scene including the part where they ballgag their boss and put him in full body suspension is completely in tact in this new adaptation! One of my friend's clients sent me a link to the website, after we had a session with him, discussing just how we would kidnap him and string him up the same way!
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