Untitled #1 (This will happen, but not to any of you, ha ha!)

I came home from a long day to find him in the kitchen with nothing on but high heels and a flower patterned apron.  At the sink with his back to me, wide shoulders and tapering waist call down to his high, smooth ass.  He does not look feminine at all.  He looks like a man, in fact, he's an exquisite specimen.  When I told him to put it on over the phone I was expecting him to look quite silly, and he does.  His forearms covered in tattoos from when he was wild and younger, his biceps are thick from pull-ups and years of physical work.  I stare at this vision for a moment before touching his ass lightly and feeling his breast with my other hand.  I search for the nipple through his apron and give it a light squeeze.  He weakens and turns around startled, the music was too loud so he couldn't hear me come in.  I kiss him hard, deeply.

I walk over to the couch and he knows that he must follow- head down- and takes my shoes off.  Kneeling, he unlaces my ankle high boots as quickly as he can, and places them carefully to the side.  He knows to start massaging my feet, keeping his eyes on the floor, "Is the pressure good for you, mum?" he says in a husky brogue.  I say yes, and straighten my leg out high so he has to reach up, and he knows that I want the rest of my leg massaged from the foot up.  He has to stand to do it and I see his ass again.  I grab it, and he focuses more intently on my foot, trying not to think about what I might be thinking about.

"Go check on dinner", I say, and he turns again, not looking at me, wobbling uneasily back into the kitchen.  I hear the oven open, and some stirring, then the pouring of a glass.  He knows exactly how I like my tea- a splash of coconut milk and one teaspoon of raw honey.  He kneels down to give it to me, and I kiss him on the forehead, loosening my tie and taking a sip.  I'm wearing my black suit and sit with my legs wide apart.

He kneels between my legs, and I stroke his hair and face, then grab the back of his hair and pull his head back so he has to look up.  He takes a second to realize he can look at me, and I can see in his eyes a silent plea to fuck him. "Get on my lap," I say, patting it and suppressing a smile.  He settles with his head to my left, his legs set straight to the right.  I can feel him getting hard through my trousers, and my nipples graze against my bra in response.  I grab his ass, caress it, and bite it gently.  His body jerks and re-positions.  Rubbing my hand back and forth across his cheeks, I can feel him anticipating how cruel I want to be.  I give him ten medium-hard slaps, alternating each cheek.  His body stiffens.  I grab his hair with my left hand-- shhhh, it's okay darling.  I let him kiss my hand.  Not letting him finish, I find his nipple and caress it lightly, increasing the pressure gradually.  My right hand is raring to go and I writhe underneath his hardening cock.  My hand cupped and firm, I slap it staccato, many times in succession to warm him up and watch it turn the lightest pink.  It jiggles with each spank, covered with anticipatory goosebumps.  Appreciating my view, I run my claws on the backs of his legs from the backs of his knees upward.  I tickle his balls and feel the warm little usually neglected space between them and the bottom of his ass.  I tickle him just a bit, the part on his ass that I found a few nights before and he shudders.  This is enough lingering, I think, and spank again, this time harder.  My hand firm, his cock perhaps firmer.

"Go get me paper and a pen", I say and he gets up quickly if a bit off balance.  I write myself a code of Left, Rights on the sheet of paper, and tell him he's to repeat back to me the pattern that he feels on his ass.  He's a bit confused, but game.  I follow the sequence-- left, left, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, right, left.  Knowing that a random sequence of more than ten is almost impossible to remember, I say, "Now repeat it back to me!"  His response is pathetic and wrong, just as I expected.  That means harder spanking!  I hold him close and lay into him with the force that I feel is right.  Not too hard, not yet.  He stays very still.  I can tell his face is contorting, but I keep going.  Alternating spanks, my hand starts to tingle in that familiar way, and I smile.  He's rock hard at this point, and we're almost dry-humping only in the wrong direction.  He gets on his hands and knees and I take off my shirt and pants, revealing my black lace undergarments, leaving my tie on.  I could tell he snuck a peek.

He hops back up, and I say, "Keep your hands and feet on the floor, do you understand?  No moving."

"Yes, loud and clear, mum."

"Now.  We're going to try this again."

"Yes, please, mum."

I write another pattern on the piece of paper, using his back.  Then, swiftly, making it more difficult:  Right, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, left, right, right, left, left, left, right.  Again, his memory fails, clearly it is time for him to fetch the hairbrush, but not before I give him more swift spanks on the harder side.  I want to watch him walk away with a bright red ass.  Fuck that pink shit.  My hand is also getting dry and very red, but I could care less.  I can feel his cock against my thighs, so hard and wet.  I lay into him, spanking away, stopping briefly I tell him to breathe.  I can feel the heat coming off his bum, and let my fingers linger on his pain.  I rub his ass, (how could I help but do that?) and he relaxes, thinking the worst is over, no doubt.  Ha, ha!  Not a chance.  I run my fingers lightly on his taint again, then watch them disappear into his crack.  He lifts his ass up, thinking now he's going to get a little penetration...  "Go get the hairbrush, sweetie," I say, and pat his leg so he gets up and wobbles back to the bathroom to fetch my personal brush.  He comes back and presents it to me on his knees, head down again.  On my lap again.  Same position.  He is looking quite serious now.  I plant a kiss on his ass, and tap it with the brush lightly.  It makes a hollow sound, and smiling I increase the force gradually.  Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.  Over and over.  Flicking my wrist so they're quick yet sting like the dickens.

"Get up and put your hands on the wall, " I say, "Spread your legs."  He does so.  I get behind him like I'm going to fuck his ass-- he wants it so badly-- but not yet.  God, I'm so turned on by his body, I want a fuller look, so untie the ribbon of his apron, and make him stay in the high heels as they push his ass out, emphasizing his desperate need to be penetrated.  Rubbing his arms, then his back, I scratch down, and he breathes in, covered in a slight layer of delicious sweat.  I feel his ass and press my body against his back, rocking him back and forth as though we're fucking, he responds and I reach around to feel how hard he is.  He is dripping like mad, so I stroke him with his pre-cum a bit to tease him, then run my hand up his stomach to his nipples.  They are so sensitive, and my fingers are still wet.  Increasing the pressure, I dig my nails into them just a bit. His legs buckle.  I know he is loving/hating it, and squeeze harder.  "Aaah!"  I push his head so that it's touching the wall and take a step back, remembering the brush.  "Position, darling!"  I stand slightly to the side of him and give him a good natured thwack.  He breathes in, and his ass muscles tighten, "Thank you, mum."  "Relax," I say, running my hand down his back.  Getting excited, I thwack him again and again and again.  "Maybe this will improve your memory!" I hit him, making him stick his ass out and take it, thwacking away with short flicks of my wrist, interspersed with ones which I wind up for, torquing my body to get my weight behind it.  His back arches, but I have to give him more, "Yes, Miss, please can I take more for you?" I make him count them down from ten.  His ass is partially hard from all of the impact,  I rub it, feeling the fruits of my labor.  He trembles in the high heels, and under my hand.

To be continued...

All Star Dommes is live and kicking! Your ass.

I am so happy to be one of the new moderators at All Star Doms!  

Please go here, and create your user name so we can start chatting up a storm:  

http://www.allstardoms.net

After six years of posting on Max Fisch, we all felt like the forum had gotten a bit stale.  Not to mention that many of my clients who had tried to create an account there had to wait months for their information to be approved.  Well, since it's all ladies running this new board, things should get done on time and we are all excited to make this place lively and full of dark, sexy fun.

I am moderating the Freedom Through Discipline and Gangland forums, so come say hello!

xoxo.

Some kind words from my dear sub Frankie...

This was to be posted on Max Fisch, but I thought I would put it here as well.  It is very sweet, and makes me so happy to have subs like him in my life.


A Dream Come True

I've been playing in the scene on and off for around 30 years now. I've sessioned with about a dozen or so pro-doms over the years. Most of my experiences with them  were quite good, though none could compare to my inner fantasies, which I guess is impossible, but Miss Veronica comes very close.

I first met Miss Veronica on "Black Friday" of 2011, you know, the night after Thanksgiving when we were all supposed to go shopping. If I remember correctly, I met her at a downtown coffee shop at 8:30.

When we first met, I was taken aback by her beauty. Not a trashy beauty, but a sophisticated beauty, a real lady. After a brief introduction, we walked a few blocks to her dungeon where we really got to know each other. She was very friendly, and very easy to talk to. She is very bright too. I could see that in her eyes, very beautiful "electric brown" eyes, I might add, they almost glow. If you take a look at her gallery, you can see, she is quite beautiful. The one photo in particular that piqued my interest was the one of her sitting at a desk with her lovely feet up, holding a cane in her hands, but when you see her in person, you'll be blown away, at least I was. Mere photos can not do her justice.

When it came time to play, Miss Veronica exceeded my expectations like no one ever has. Unlike most pros, she is not afraid to hurt you, that is, if that is what you want, and the best part is, she loves it. I can't tell you how turned on I get. She is an expert with various whips, canes, paddles, and other WADs (weapons of ass destruction). I see her once a month now, and each time we play is different and exciting. Each time she turns up the heat a little more. Now, after almost a year, we are doing needles, and some pretty heavy electrics. Things I never thought I could get into, but when she does it, it's wonderful. I think this is because I know she is enjoying her self, and that really turns me on. I will take just about anything for her, and I think you will to.

Don't get me wrong. Miss Veronica is not a mean person, in fact, she is very loving and kind. If you are a novice, or if you can't have marks, or you are not into so much pain, don't worry, she will not go beyond your limits unless you want her to. She may expand your limits a little over time, but that's what it's all about. Isn't it?

I could extoll the wonders of Miss Veronica for pages, but you owe it to yourself to find out first hand. She is simply the best!

Frank

Masocasting my ass off...

Hey you lucky things, The Violent Fems and I are the newest podcast on Masocast, so shake a tail feather and get to listening.

Find it here:  Funny, funny stuff


xoxo.

Drink Up And Be Somebody: An Ode to the King of Cool... (originally posted Jan 2013)

Dane Cook!  Ha, ha.  Not.  I've been a little (okay a lot) obsessed with Dean Martin lately.  Not because I admire his singing, but his in between song banter is hilarious.  It's a sort subtle, metaphorical rapid fire non sequitur Borsch Belt style of delivery, which well, just doesn't exist anymore.  Not only is it cleverly laden with metaphor and nuance, but HE TALKS ABOUT BLOWJOBS ("If you cut a woman in half, with my luck, I'd get the half that eats.  I'll drink to that."), cheating on his wife, homosexuality (to Ken Lane, "We've been together 15 years, have I ever asked you to hold it??  Strike that."), being a drunk (obviously), pedophilia ("Nothing could be finer than to shack up with a minor"), drug use (looking at his cigarette, "There ain't no printing on this one at all!  Anyone wanna go anyplace?"), references to his cock ("Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my wonderful pianist")  Basically everything that Lenny Bruce was talking about around the same time, only Bruce used a more brackish (some would say bratty), INYOURFACE approach.  So, how did Martin get away with it and Bruce got arrested?  It was clearly all in the delivery.  And the context.  It is well known that at least toward the middle of his career, Dean would pretend to be drunk when he was onstage.  It was a popular character of a politically incorrect time-- The Lovable Drunk-- (also employed by Martin's friend Foster Brooks).  But also, it was sort of genius because it gave him license to say really fucked up shit.  Also, since many of his jokes are plays on words, he had added defense,  "I'm confusing terminologies, you people are taking it all wrong!"  He also frequently blames his pianist for supplying lyrics with inappropriate sayings.  He employs all these devices to cover up how much of a filthy mind he had.  Devices he most likely learned from comedians he worked closely with- Jerry Lewis (wait, maybe not him), Joe E. Lewis, and Jimmy Durante.

 I'm sure no one reading this is surprised that a member of the Rat Pack was bawdy.  I also know that I'm not alone in my romanticization of the early 60's.  I find the whole Mad Men phenomenon to be quite annoying (Guys!  Stop wearing fedora's!  It's only cool on girls, seriously...) but I can understand wanting to sit in a smoke-filled room, drinking scotch out of crystal tumblers, watching showgirls dance behind a greasy-haired crooner who fills the spaces between songs with slurred one-liners while gulping his drinks on the house.  Fat, hairy, nefariously associated "gentlemen" in the best seats, talking loudly and grabbing their clownishly painted female companions.  I actually do think that would be swell.  But only if I could actually travel back in time.  Any attempt at a modern reproduction would be an impotent overly self-conscious study in abject hipsterism, which clearly is abhorrent.

 So what the fuck happened when Bruce came along?  You could say that he was a reflection of the times.  Of the social/political awakening that Baby Boomers love to remind every subsequent generation that they were a part of.  This was a great thing, I'm not saying that it's not.  He was fighting for his First Amendment rights, although I don't think he set out intentionally to do that, or even to piss people off.  Maybe he was.  Probably was.  Anyway if you are unable to listen to his material in the context of his time, which I am not, as I am not old enough to have seen him-- he sounds like any comedian around since the 70's or 80's who have been swearing their asses off to swells of laughter and applause.  His confrontational delivery style was intended to shock, whereas Martin's is friendly and accessible.  Martin was not trying to make a statement, he was just entertaining people.  The one thing I do like about Bruce though is not his "shock jock" persona, but that he-- perhaps for the first time in popular culture-- was exposing his pain on stage and making it funny.  Perhaps it was this that made him so offensive, aside from the fact that he fought to say Fuck, Shit, and Pussy.  This is one of my favorite things of his:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TrQxeNEPLo  

Take another comedian of the time, Bob Newhart.  In my opinion, his shit is just not funny anymore.  It was revolutionary because he was the first American absurdist stand-up that gained any sort of notoriety.  But he was also employing similar devices that Martin did-- a disbelief at what he just said, linguistic misunderstandings, (I'm sure there are plenty of proper comedy nerd phrases for all the things I'm describing, but whatever) a cultural unawareness that mirrors Martin's drunkenness...  This begs the question of what makes something timelessly funny.   I don't think anyone has been able to pin that down, anyway.  Newhart was using similar devices as Martin and Bruce was utilizing similar topics.  So crystallizing what is timelessly funny on these bases seems impossible, making it even more intangible.  Unless the only things that are timelessly funny are those things that are bawdy in a metaphorical sense.  Are you confused? Me too.

 Why the hell am I even bothering to write about this shit?   Who cares?  It's all subjective.  Is it even worth discussing?  Why am I bothering to post this on my blog which is supposed to be about kinky stuff?  Aren't you pissed that there has been nary a phrase for you to jerk off to yet?  Ha, as if.  I guess because all of the things I listed in the first paragraph linger on or are blatantly taboo.  A subject which relates intimately with kink stuff.

Ha, no, that's bullshit.  I just wanted to write about Dean Martin and comedy.  It surprised me to read that he was rarely part of the Rat Pack's late night antics, but would often leave when Sinatra and the rest of the boys partied far into the early morning.  He also had custody of his children from his first marriage- something unheard of for the time, and a fact he was not terribly open about.   He is, of course, known for being a womanizer and a lover of drink, but some facts make you wonder whether the image he wanted to project got in the way of the real story.  But even if that's true, does it really matter?  I prefer to think of him as a calm, collected devil-may-care raconteur.  I don't need the inside track.  It's probably tragic in it's own way anyway, just like Bruce's.  

On to the good stuff.  This is one of my favorites, Dino Live At The Sands (it's an hour long, but even the first few minutes is hilarious).  I highly recommend listening to the whole thing when you get a chance:

This is also another classic, a portion of Live And Swinging, with the rest of the Rat Pack.  They brought Johnny Carson in at the last minute, as Joey Bishop could not be there:

xoxo.

Is Your Ass Tingling Yet?!

It must be in anticipation of the Violent Fems spankdown you’re going to get this Thursday at 10pm at The Stonewall Inn!  That’s right, Me, Mistress Wynter, Mistress Regan, and Mistress Alex will be there, palms aready for a good cause!  There might be other implements in use as well, just because we might feel like it.

All proceeds will go toward the formation of a sex worker health collective- more info here:

On November 29th, the PROS Network and PERSIST Health Project, two peer-led organizations focused on improving access to care, services, and rights for sex workers throughout NYC are hosting PROS/PERSIST: A Benefit for Peer-Led Sex Workers’ Rights & Services in NYC will be held at the historic Stonewall Inn. We’ll be raffling off a host of great prizes including fine art by Mark Dion, and feature a great lineup of performers doing readings, burlesque performances and more!

Tickets will be sold in increments of $10, $25, $50, and $100, and you can BUY ADVANCE TICKETS HERE. Doors open at 7pm sharp!

Performances begin at 8pm

Raffle Prizes Announced: 9:30pm

Guest DJ Shomi Noise and Lap dance and spanking booths open at 10pm

Where: Stonewall Inn, 53 Christopher Street, NYC

We are holding a benefit to raise funds for the following activities:

To expand access to care for sex workers by laying the foundation to open up NYC’s first health clinic run by and for sex workers, similar to St James Infirmary in SF
For advocacy and policy change to decriminalize sex work and prostitution in NY state, and to remove criminal penalties from all consensual sexual behavior (such as racial profiling, immigration laws, and public space)
To conduct best practices training and capacity-building for health care providers, law enforcement, social workers, legal service providers, and community members
And Much More!

NOVEMBER 29th, 2012: PROS/PERSIST: A Benefit for Peer-Led Sex Workers’ Rights & Services in NYC
Stonewall Inn, 53 Christopher St, NYC

Come on down and say hello!

xo.

In the wake of impending disaster...

Here are a few photos from my last shoot!   Please feel free to leave a comment not just about how beautiful I look, but also about topics that you would like to hear me pontificate upon in the future.