Strictly Speaking – With Mistress Karen

Sometimes I’m tired… tired of keeping it all going. I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but it would be nice meet someone who I would love to be with (and of course, he would be fabulously wealthy) and who would marry me and insist I have a life of leisure. Of course, it could be a lot cleaner if I just won the lottery.

But there is also a part of me that would relish a traditional husband/wife dynamic and relationship. It would be fun to cook eggs for my husband in the morning or figure out how to remodel our new kitchen. But until then, I tend to whip that thought out of my head by dominating others.

When I’m dominating someone, I feel like I can conquer the world. I feel like nobody can control me. It’s a rush. I guess some people use booze or pot to forget their troubles. Dominating is kind of like that. It really gets me going to see someone begging me, (AND I MEAN BEGGING… BECAUSE I DON’T ALLOW SAFE WORDS) to stop or to release them. And sometimes, it’s no bullshit. I turn into an actual sadist. I like to see them squirm and writhe and blubber like the piece of shit they are. Of course, they are still people in real life, and when the session is done, I instantly and genuinely switch off my contempt and sadism, often times even feeling inferior to them due to their accomplishments or social stature.

I think people come to me thinking they are going to tell me what to do from the bottom position. But the reason they come back is that once they commit to me, all those thoughts of controlling the session are gone and they have no idea what to expect or what is coming in the next instant. People get off on the fear. But they probably don’t realize that I am the one using THEM as a drug… and I’m the one getting the real rush. Sensory deprivation is one of my favorite tools. I like to disorient the sub so that they don’t know if they should answer “yes” or “no” to my questions. I like to make them physically disoriented and completely surprised by the next action I take.

For example, this old “friend” of mine came to me with his wife, who was a bit new to the BDSM world. His request was that I help train his wife to dominate him. I’m sure he thought that he would be tied up and she would learn the finer techniques of flogging. Fuck that. The best way to teach someone anything is to make them do it themselves. In other words, if his wife (Claire) had a true understanding of how scary it can be to be dominated, she might learn that dominating is not an activity or an action but a feeling of power. And for the slave, it becomes so real that the Stockholm syndrome begins to set in, even in a single session. In fact, a session done right will not only feel real, but becomes real. The participants are not merely characters, but really assume the role of submissive and dominant. It’s real. Someone really has the control and someone really fears and worships that person.

Before the session started, Claire told me that she really wanted to learn and would do anything I told her to, so long as it would help her dominate her husband in a way that would make him respect her as dom.

Sounded easy enough. Step one… dispense with the guy. I ordered her to restrain the guy (Marco) in a way that would create genuine fear in him. First she looked at me with a blank face. Then, she read me as serious and got to forcing him into a small cage that would cause him severe discomfort if he were to be left there for more than 30 mins. I quickly scolded her… “I said restrain him in a way that would create genuine fear. Do you think he’s afraid?” She got my point. “Step over here,” I told her. I directed her over to a post and handcuffed her arms behind it. “This is how you make fear,” I went on.

I pulled Marco out of the cage and told him to sit down on the floor. I slapped shackles on his ankles and handcuffed his wrists to the shackles, kind of like a reverse hog-tie. Then I dumped the waste basket upside down to empty it out. Never mind a couple bottles breaking. Then I yanked the white garbage bag out of the can and quickly pulled it down over Marco’s head, sealing it very tightly all around with several passes of duct tape.

Claire was horrified as she saw him start to struggle to breathe. “He can’t breathe!” she whined. No shit. He struggled harder and harder and she screamed at me to help him. “You see, this fear is no bullshit, right Claire?” I calmly teased. “Okay, okay, I get your point. Just stop, please!!!” Finally, I thought they got my point so with my fingernail, I punctured the trash bag right at his mouth. He started gasping for air at the same time as blubbering something about “thank you, Mistress.” I told him to shut up or I would put a gag in his mouth. Little sissy.

Then I approached Claire, whose hands were still bound behind the post. I gave her a cold hard stare before whispering “Don’t you ever tell me what to do. Ever! Do you understand me?” By the fear in her eyes, I take it she got me. But I thought I should reinforce it a bit.

I put some earplugs in her ears, then put a piece of duct tape over them. Then I laced her into a rigid leather posture collar I have and finally, a really intense leather sensory deprivation hood that straps around the eyes and chin… and the straps lock with padlocks. It’s an intense hood and only has a mouth hole the diameter of a pea. It laces up the back and as I was cinching it up, I felt her legs begin to tremble. First it was slow and then she was all out shaking from fear. I used to think that was only in cartoons.

I told her that she would learn to trust me and worship me and caressed and hugged her a bit for comfort. Her breathing was fast. I uncuffed her hands and had her put her hands in sturdy leather fist mitts. Those are the kind where there isn’t enough room to extend your fingers in the mitten… so your hands must remain in the fist position. I cinched them really tightly around her wrists with the leather restraints on the mitts. No chance she could ever get out of those. Then I padlocked the mitts to the front of her posture collar. I also attached a thick leather leash to the collar and started to drag her for a walk.

Having never even been blindfolded, she was really nervous about walking, and only took baby steps for fear of falling or bumping into things. But that’s okay. I wasn’t in too big of a hurry. I took her all around the dungeon to disorient her. Then I took her out of the dungeon and past the medical room. She must have been really concerned. Obviously with the earplugs, tape, and hood, she had no idea where we were. I dragged her outside the emergency exit door and into the alley where it was quite cold. Clearly she must have felt the temperature change and wonder what the hell was going on. I was a little nervous about someone seeing us in the alley so we headed back inside. I took her on a SLOW and meandering path back to the dungeon. Of course, I had to spin her around a couple times for extra good measure.

Now that she was sufficiently lost, I took my new BCBG Dionne boots out of the closet and made her step into them. She was really confused and it took a few minutes until she was properly zipped up in the boots (I love it when women wear a size 7, that’s my size). Once she was in them, she looked hot. I loved how she was so unsure about standing in them and being so disoriented. I took out a riding crop and swatted her tummy a few times. Then I rubbed the crop slowly on her pussy for a while. After a minute, I gently felt her… and she was dripping wet. Wow! Now that’s power. It was even getting me a little moist. I stepped away and came back with a steel spreader bar which I locked around her… I mean… MY boots. Her legs were spread really wide. Her hands were locked in the mitts to her posture collar and her hood was extremely tight. Oh yeah, and hubby was several feet away cuffed and shackled with a plastic bag taped over his head.

I whipped her several times with the riding crop, giving more and more time between each blow. Finally, I was waiting up to 5 minutes between blows and you could see her body relaxing as if she thought it was over. But after 5 or 6 minutes, another hit would come… until they didn’t. I tip-toed out of the dungeon and decided to catch a movie. I know Claire had no idea where she was, where I was, or what she should do next.

I saw a really bad movie: “Confessions of a Shop-a-Holic.” It was a fluff movie, so it was kind of bad in a fun way. But midway through the movie, I had to masturbate. Ever wonder why girls bring coats to theaters?

When I went back to the dungeon, Marco was in near agony and kept groaning. Claire wasn’t doing so well either. She had managed to lay down and was hyperventilating a bit. I unshackled her legs and took my boots off of her. When she felt my presence, she was euphoric and shivering (again). I put the handcuff key in the hand of Marco. Then I grabbed my boots and quietly crept away. Of course, at home I had to stimulate myself again. I couldn’t’ stop thinking about Claire’s legs locked in the steel spreader bar in my boots. I’m telling you, it’s sexy.

I know one thing, I think Claire will have no problem putting Marco in a state of fear.

Okay. The emails have been urging me to get into some of the occurrences that happened when I was chained by the neck in the dungeon for an entire month. Remember that post? One thing it proved is that I must be a true switch. In other words, a dominatrix needs an outlet just like everybody else. Granted, I have an overwhelming desire to be a top. But when I think about health food girl, the woman I had over to my place yesterday (whose name I still don’t know), and how it must have felt to have your hands secured behind your back and be surprised by a plastic baggie whipped over your head until you start to suffocate… well, that would feel pretty helpless. And that’s a feeling that really gets me going too. I’m a bit claustrophobic, so I doubt I could actually handle the kind of session I gave her, but I still love the idea of being ordered around. It’s sexy to feel completely owned by someone.

By the way, after our session, I told her she was really sweet and said I would surely see her in the store the next time I had to go in. There was  a quiet understanding between us. She is a sweetheart.

And when I was in the dungeon for that month, at least 3/4 of the time I was thinking it was very unsexual and I just wanted to go home, cry, and then take a hot shower. But in my waiver with Mistress Du Champ, there were explicit directions that no safe words were to be used and that there was nothing I could verbally say to make her unchain me until a full month had passed. But the parts of my stay that were sexual were a million percent euphoric.  First of all, I was lost in this delirium of timelessness. I was chained in the main room of the dungeon with nothing but a cot and a potty that consisted of a bucket. There are no windows.  The mistress would only turn on the lights when she was in the room. So literally, there was no sense of day or night, afternoon or evening.  My clue to help guess the time was when it would be quiet for what felt like about 3 hours. If it was quiet after that, I knew the mistress must have gone home for the night.

Being in the dark was really upsetting to me.  Sometimes when Mistress DuChamp’s client would leave, I would hear her exiting the dungeon and I would start to get scared and cry. But then a short time later, she would be back with another client. It was like music when I would hear the murmur of the voices coming toward the dungeon from down the hall. The sound of her heels approaching became really Pavlovian for me and I could almost climax at the thought of a real human coming back. In fact, one time I could hear her and the client outside going through the stock room. They were picking out all their toys and whips for what seemed like 20 minutes. I was salivating about the her coming in and turning on the light and I started masturbating.  But all of the sudden, the door opened and she caught me red-handed (both hands on my clit) in the beginning of an orgasm. The client (a guy about 42) was, pretty surprised… first by the fact that there is a woman chained in the dungeon and second by the fact that she was in the midst of masturbating. Mistress DuChamp was pretty pissed and she abruptly excused herself from the client for a moment.  Then she walked over and calmly strapped leather cuffs on my ankles.  I knew I was in for it. She hooked the winch onto the cuffs and hoisted me upside down until I was hanging there with my head about a foot above the ground. Then she whispered in my ear: “You will never touch yourself unless I give permission. Do you understand?” But I was an emotional wreck  and started crying and apologizing profusely.  She told me to shut up, but I couldn’t help myself. So she because really rough and forced my head into a thick leather hood that only had holes in the nostrils. Like I said, I’m a bit claustrophobic and I started to panic. She ordered the client to lace up the back of the hood as tight as he could.  Then she saw that I was REALLY freaking out so she took a riding crop and smacked my upside down ass good and hard. It stunned me because I wasn’t expecting that.  Then she gave me a second blow and told me to think about each hit. Now I see that her idea was to make me think about something other than the claustrophobic scariness and being upside down. And it worked.  Believe it or not, I started calming down by being whipped. Fuck. I hated being in that hood. When she saw that I was calming down (or maybe it was going into shock) she lowered me back down, unlocked the neck bolt on the chain and dragged me to the rack table. She laid me face down on the rack, spread-eagled me and winched it pretty tight. Anything felt better than being upside down in that hood. Then she took of the hood, chained the guy’s leg to the bottom of the table and ordered him to massage me as gentle as a butterfly’s touch until she came back. She put on a loud playlist of Bach and disappeared out of the dungeon.  For whatever  reason, the guy didn’t talk… and I didn’t want to talk to him. Plus, I wasn’t give permission. He rubbed so gently that it was almost like a tickle. But after a while, I was getting euphoric again. I dozed off a couple times.  He must have rubbed me for about two hours before she came back.

She seemed pleased with the results of her commands as I appeared very relaxed (except that my arms and wrists were sore from being stretched) Then she released the tension on the rack and told me to sit up. She shoved a giant milkshake in my hand and told me to drink. Wow! Nothing ever tasted that good in my whole life. She told me I had been a good girl and now I would be rewarded. But of course, she hooked my neck back up to the chain. She told me she was too tired to dominate the client and that I would have to do it. So she helped get me into my favorite lace-up kidskin thigh boots (actually, they are crotch high boots). Then she cinched a black silk (boned) corset around my waste. I felt sexy being in a dominate outfit but still chained by the neck. She releasd the client from the table and handcuffed his arms around a post near me. She put a large bit gag in his mouth and strapped it on tight. Then she handed me the crop and told me to punish the client. God, it felt good to have that kind of power again. Mistress DuChamp went over to the velvet throne and sat there. She called on the intercom for a cappuccino and some magazines and told me to go ahead with the punishment. This is the type of guy I could play like putty. I turned on my coldest dominatrix mood and fucked with the guy.  When her magazines and cappuccino came,  we were completely invisible to her. She just sat there and took time for herself as if she were on a couch alone in a New York apartment. Even when the guy was a blubbering mess, she never showed any awareness that we were in the same room as her.  After a while, the guy couldn’t take any more domination from me.  Mistress DuChamp coldly called on the intercom for bath supplies and a few moments later, someone came in with a bucket of warm water, and warm towels. She helped me out of my boots and corset, uncuffed the client and told him to bathe me from head to toe. It was ecstasy. The warm water felt as divine as the milk shake tasted.  Then she handed me a toothbrush and told me to brush my teeth and spit on him. She put him into the steel standing cage, a cage that is designed so tightly that if you fall asleep in there, you can’t collapse. She kissed me goodnight on the head and told me she was really proud of me. Then she walked  out, leaving us both in the dark. Neither of us said a thing. Oddly enough, I was comforted by the fact that another real person was a few feet away from me and would be there in spirit to help me through the hours of darkness that would follow. At least I was able to lay down. He was moaning all night from discomfort.