...my fucking foot in your ass, DC!
I am feeling more and more patriotic as the time comes nearer for my visit to Our Nation's Capital. Well, patriotic or violent, I can never tell the difference. Ha ha! Wink wink.
I know you're just dying to read the details, so I will oblige you (this time):
- I will be there from August 1st to the 4th.
- I will be available for sessions with Mistress Wynter and Miss Maya Sinstress. Miss Maya will be leaving on the 3rd, so hurry up and book if you dare.
- You can also get me alone...
Okay, so enough dawdling. Email me at mistressveronicanyc@gmail.com to apply for being an outlet for my pent up frustration with Obama! :)
xoxo.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Sometimes I wish I had a twin.
So I could fuck her. I know, I know, it would be incest and everything. And maybe rape if she didn't want to. Nah, I'm kidding, I would never rape my twin. Can you fuck a hologram?? No, right? Damn it!!
Monday, June 25, 2012
Pride Parade Ponderings
Well, Gay Pride has come and gone. Such a fun time. It seems like you can go to a different party every night, and that it goes on for far longer than is reasonable.
I don't mean to toot my own horn (although it's so easy!), but have been going (off and on) since the 90's. I was a teenager, and not "out". I wasn't sure if I was gay, as I hadn't tried being with a girl yet. I was (and am) lucky enough to have a sister who was a crazy pagan lesbian vegetarian counter-culturalist forward-thinker who took me to Pride and all kinds of festivals where I saw Kim Airs wearing a strap-on and traffic cones on her breasts, amongst other things. It was exquisitely bizarre, and I am so grateful for those glimpses, being brought up in a very conventional environment.
But as I was waiting and waiting for the float I was on to start moving yesterday, I got frustrated. I mean, it took us four damned hours just to get started. Then I began thinking about the first time I went to the parade (when it was technically a "march", which is different). I remember my sister being hesitant about taking me because there was an actual level of danger. It's hard to imagine today, but back then the "march" was an act of protest. It was defiant. We are talking before "Will & Grace", before "Glee", clearly, before "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" went on goddamned fucking Broadway but was a small film your friends told you about that weirdly starred Agent Smith from "The Matrix". The shit was Real. You could get things thrown at you, there were bomb threats, and about 20% of the people there were protesting against it. For all of these reasons, I stopped being frustrated and realized how far everything has come. It's good that the parade is so large and so popular.
When I was a kid, I was spellbound by the freakish levels of abject randomness and how comfortable everyone was with whatever fantastical creature the march welcomed anyone to be. I fell in love with drag queens, and smiled at them with a starry-eyed stalker-like quality which I'm sure was a little scary- but which I still do because I find them absolutely bewitching. I met a curious man with door knockers in his nipples and scarification all over his chest (who was a banker in his vanilla life, not surprisingly to any of us, but which was to my 16 year old mind). It was probably the first time in my life I felt genuinely afraid and happy at the same time (probably a feeling a lot of bottoms can relate with). Especially when I saw Dykes on Bikes, who were at the very front. I remember being scared by the sound of the Harleys, and then burst into tears. I'm not sure why. It's silly, really. I mean, their name alone is pretty ridiculous. But I think it was the first time I had seen a powerful group of women en masse wielding machines with utter assuredness. It was an unabashed expression of female power and toughness, and it overwhelmed me. Now that I think about it, the placement of the biker babes was probably strategic. Not only because motorcycles are unreliable when stopping and starting, but it's a show of force in an otherwise vulnerable seeming population. (Lest we forget drag queens started the Stonewall Riot- which is the reason Pride exists).
Sure, Pride has become very commercialized, it's lost a lot of it's protest "edge", it's too large and clunky, it disturbs traffic, and the sheer defiant excitement of being outrageous in the face of forceful opposition is gone. But while I was looking out into the crowd of people yesterday-- smiling and waving and cheering and dancing- I felt the spirit of freedom of expression and universal concepts of love and acceptance are still at the heart. However you want to be, you can be. With enthusiasm. I'm pretty sure that having the experience of going when I was 16 did something toward assuring me that whatever pansexual, kinky, bizarre feelings I was having were fine, and even a positive thing. And I'm cool with that.
xoxo.
Serving some Pride Clown realness, bitches!
I don't mean to toot my own horn (although it's so easy!), but have been going (off and on) since the 90's. I was a teenager, and not "out". I wasn't sure if I was gay, as I hadn't tried being with a girl yet. I was (and am) lucky enough to have a sister who was a crazy pagan lesbian vegetarian counter-culturalist forward-thinker who took me to Pride and all kinds of festivals where I saw Kim Airs wearing a strap-on and traffic cones on her breasts, amongst other things. It was exquisitely bizarre, and I am so grateful for those glimpses, being brought up in a very conventional environment.
But as I was waiting and waiting for the float I was on to start moving yesterday, I got frustrated. I mean, it took us four damned hours just to get started. Then I began thinking about the first time I went to the parade (when it was technically a "march", which is different). I remember my sister being hesitant about taking me because there was an actual level of danger. It's hard to imagine today, but back then the "march" was an act of protest. It was defiant. We are talking before "Will & Grace", before "Glee", clearly, before "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" went on goddamned fucking Broadway but was a small film your friends told you about that weirdly starred Agent Smith from "The Matrix". The shit was Real. You could get things thrown at you, there were bomb threats, and about 20% of the people there were protesting against it. For all of these reasons, I stopped being frustrated and realized how far everything has come. It's good that the parade is so large and so popular.
When I was a kid, I was spellbound by the freakish levels of abject randomness and how comfortable everyone was with whatever fantastical creature the march welcomed anyone to be. I fell in love with drag queens, and smiled at them with a starry-eyed stalker-like quality which I'm sure was a little scary- but which I still do because I find them absolutely bewitching. I met a curious man with door knockers in his nipples and scarification all over his chest (who was a banker in his vanilla life, not surprisingly to any of us, but which was to my 16 year old mind). It was probably the first time in my life I felt genuinely afraid and happy at the same time (probably a feeling a lot of bottoms can relate with). Especially when I saw Dykes on Bikes, who were at the very front. I remember being scared by the sound of the Harleys, and then burst into tears. I'm not sure why. It's silly, really. I mean, their name alone is pretty ridiculous. But I think it was the first time I had seen a powerful group of women en masse wielding machines with utter assuredness. It was an unabashed expression of female power and toughness, and it overwhelmed me. Now that I think about it, the placement of the biker babes was probably strategic. Not only because motorcycles are unreliable when stopping and starting, but it's a show of force in an otherwise vulnerable seeming population. (Lest we forget drag queens started the Stonewall Riot- which is the reason Pride exists).
Sure, Pride has become very commercialized, it's lost a lot of it's protest "edge", it's too large and clunky, it disturbs traffic, and the sheer defiant excitement of being outrageous in the face of forceful opposition is gone. But while I was looking out into the crowd of people yesterday-- smiling and waving and cheering and dancing- I felt the spirit of freedom of expression and universal concepts of love and acceptance are still at the heart. However you want to be, you can be. With enthusiasm. I'm pretty sure that having the experience of going when I was 16 did something toward assuring me that whatever pansexual, kinky, bizarre feelings I was having were fine, and even a positive thing. And I'm cool with that.
xoxo.
Serving some Pride Clown realness, bitches! Thursday, June 21, 2012
3 Whole Free Minutes!
On Niteflirt. With me!
Ha, ha, not much of a deal. But see if you can amuse me regardless... If you're a speed talker you could probably get an entire scene in!
Phone Sex on NiteFlirt -- Speak to your desire
Ha, ha, not much of a deal. But see if you can amuse me regardless... If you're a speed talker you could probably get an entire scene in!
Phone Sex on NiteFlirt -- Speak to your desire
Saturday, June 9, 2012
A good cheek pounding, and it's rewards...
Last night, I had no idea how much fun I would have... Thank you, my dear!
I had decided earlier in the night that I wanted to use my hands to torture my sub, so didn't bother to bring any implements to the party. He can take a lot of impact, so I decided I wanted to go to town on his ass (he was wearing assless chaps, so practically begging for it). We started out with spanking, which made loud thwacking noises throughout the room. I was surprised and delighted by the sound, and smiled for a moment to myself of how compatible my hand is with his buttocks. I continued with measured, steady smacks until his ass was red and warm. My hands felt the same way, but I didn't care because the sound and his reactions and his surrender were so satisfying. I then held his head in place by his hair to let him know that there would be no thrashing and no resistance (I might have stroked it too, to calm him...) I then got the idea to punch his ass. Bent over the bench, I gave him some soft reverse punches to warm him up. He didn't say anything... so I knew he was ready for more. Keeping my fists close to my ears, from a fighting stance I twisted my body forward, bringing with it the impact of my tightened fist. His back arched, and he positioned himself for another. I kept punching and hearing the "thwack" noise, and twisting, keeping my impact at a steady medium force at first, and then adding one hard one every so often to shock him. I pulled his hair from his eyes, looked at him and saw the puppy dog look that I love to see from any sub when he's in the throes of my passion. I bent him over again, and gave him a blizzard of hard punches to his ass. Twist, thwack, twist, thwack, twist, thwack! I rubbed him and bent over him, hugging him from behind, pinching a nipple to remind him that his plight might not be over just yet.
And it wasn't. Now... I would not normally do this to anyone walking down the street (although when someone walks into me while staring at their phone, I feel like it), but my sub and I are two risk-aware kinky adults. In martial arts, the abilities to be precise both target-wise and with degree of impact are tantamount. I have been practicing for three years, so when I got the idea (let's call it more an "itch") to punch my sub in the cheek- I knew I could punch him there to hurt him, and not do any permanent damage. I told him I wanted to, and he seemed excited by the idea. The first punch was light-- I was gauging my distance and force, in martial arts we would call this a "check". The second punch was a bit harder, but right on target. The wet thwack was loud, but not really loud enough :). I made sure he was ready for a harder third punch-- I connected perfectly and the sound coming out of my fist and his cheek was the plump crack I wanted. So satisfying. So great. I kissed his cheek. He kissed my hand. I hugged him again, it felt so good.
When I sat down, I realized that I had done this:
And I love it!! A wonderful reminder of a tremendously fun night.
xoxo.
I had decided earlier in the night that I wanted to use my hands to torture my sub, so didn't bother to bring any implements to the party. He can take a lot of impact, so I decided I wanted to go to town on his ass (he was wearing assless chaps, so practically begging for it). We started out with spanking, which made loud thwacking noises throughout the room. I was surprised and delighted by the sound, and smiled for a moment to myself of how compatible my hand is with his buttocks. I continued with measured, steady smacks until his ass was red and warm. My hands felt the same way, but I didn't care because the sound and his reactions and his surrender were so satisfying. I then held his head in place by his hair to let him know that there would be no thrashing and no resistance (I might have stroked it too, to calm him...) I then got the idea to punch his ass. Bent over the bench, I gave him some soft reverse punches to warm him up. He didn't say anything... so I knew he was ready for more. Keeping my fists close to my ears, from a fighting stance I twisted my body forward, bringing with it the impact of my tightened fist. His back arched, and he positioned himself for another. I kept punching and hearing the "thwack" noise, and twisting, keeping my impact at a steady medium force at first, and then adding one hard one every so often to shock him. I pulled his hair from his eyes, looked at him and saw the puppy dog look that I love to see from any sub when he's in the throes of my passion. I bent him over again, and gave him a blizzard of hard punches to his ass. Twist, thwack, twist, thwack, twist, thwack! I rubbed him and bent over him, hugging him from behind, pinching a nipple to remind him that his plight might not be over just yet.
And it wasn't. Now... I would not normally do this to anyone walking down the street (although when someone walks into me while staring at their phone, I feel like it), but my sub and I are two risk-aware kinky adults. In martial arts, the abilities to be precise both target-wise and with degree of impact are tantamount. I have been practicing for three years, so when I got the idea (let's call it more an "itch") to punch my sub in the cheek- I knew I could punch him there to hurt him, and not do any permanent damage. I told him I wanted to, and he seemed excited by the idea. The first punch was light-- I was gauging my distance and force, in martial arts we would call this a "check". The second punch was a bit harder, but right on target. The wet thwack was loud, but not really loud enough :). I made sure he was ready for a harder third punch-- I connected perfectly and the sound coming out of my fist and his cheek was the plump crack I wanted. So satisfying. So great. I kissed his cheek. He kissed my hand. I hugged him again, it felt so good.
When I sat down, I realized that I had done this:
And I love it!! A wonderful reminder of a tremendously fun night.
xoxo.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
VIOLENT FEMS WELCOME MISTRESS SERVALAN!
Get ready to put your big boy pants on, as we will be inducting MISTRESS SERVALAN into the VIOLENT FEMS Hall of Fame on Sunday, May 27th 7pm at BillyMark’s West! This jet-setting Australian beauty only graces us with her presence once every few years, so we are ecstatic to celebrate her arrival by leaving a bevy of bruised and broken boys in her wake!
A bit of background on our guest of honor:
Known by the authorities variously as The Duchess, aka The Trainer, aka The Flossie Aussie, she is the great-granddaughter of a peer banished to the colonies for unmentionable reasons. Amongst her various talents, Duchess learned to control large animals as a child on her family property... she also rode horses.
In recent years she has has travelled extensively sometimes just one step ahead of the authorities - sailing the world by private yacht leaving a trail of well-trained and well marked creatures in every port. Interpol estimates she may be planning to infiltrate the United States where she has been linked to the well known and nefarious Violent Fems gang...
More information can be found here, on her website (although for shame if you have not already visited it many times over...):(Visit Mistress Servalan's website)
Oh, the nefariousness we will share! Oh the horrors that the subs of New York will endure! Oh, what a treat for everyone involved!
THIS IS A FEMDOM PARTY. NO CISGENDER MALE DOMS ALLOWED TO GET JIGGY ON OUR TURF.
A note on how it goes down:
We consider this party to be far far removed from the run-of-the-mill fetish party in the sense that it is more a theater in the round. We dress up, we have certain people on whom we stage “attacks” (the attackees), we use gang implements, mostly, rather than whips and floggers, and we’re also friendly. You will not come to the party and stand around being bored waiting for someone to pay attention to you. If you are patient and don’t get in our way, we eventually say hello to everyone. You just have to be patient and respectful. Should I state that one more time? Patient and respectful, thanks!
There are two tiers, as you well know: $10 for observers, and $50 for ATTACKEES Don’t know what an attackee is, but are interested? Email me at mistressveronicanyc@gmail.com BillyMark's West is located on 29th St and 9th Ave in NYC.
**FYI, the party starts promptly and ends at 11pm, so if you show up at 10pm, you might miss the hot action! If you come before 7pm, you will be thrown out, and not in a good way.**
IF YOU STILL DON’T KNOW WHO WE ARE, PUNCH YOURSELF IN THE DICK AND THEN CLICK HERE: http://www.violentfems.com
xoxo.
Da Kingpin
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