Strictly Speaking – With Mistress Karen

Dominatrix takes her slave to work!

By now, a lot of you have probably figured out that I specialize in neglect.  For you newbies or vanilla types, that means that I thrive on restraining someone in a somewhat uncomfortable position and then leaving them alone for hours at a time to wonder if I am coming back. Of course, I have been known to wield a whip from time to time or even participate at all levels of kink. But really, I love seeing a slave tied up and squirming. I love it when they have to piss themselves because their restraints prevent them from having the dignity of a bathroom. Some people have suggested that I am a “lazy” dominatrix  because there is so little physical interaction between me and my sub. But in my own defense, that’s like saying that a gun is not powerful if it is never fired.

And while many of my friends and slaves have long been benefiting from technology (web stuff, HD video, etc) in the world of bdsm, I am a late adopter. But my life will never be the same after finally getting a web cam and learning to use Skype. I never would have thought my orgasm would be coming from an internet thingy… but WOW!!!

An old boyfriend of mine (from 9 years ago)  was feeling really stressed from some transitions in his life and called to see if I would be into a little session. I said, sure, as long as we were clear that it was only bdsm and no chit chat about the past or future. He agreed and showed up at my house. After a little reacquainting  with small talk over a glass of wine, I told him it was time to get  things moving because I was getting ready for bed. I had him take a shower then come into my bedroom naked. I told him that I wasn’t ready for a big scene and that he would have to sleep on my floor because I didn’t want to be bothered that night.  So I put him in steel manacles and shackles and locked his hands to his feet with only about a foot of chain to let him have a little movement. Don’t get me wrong, he was still in a loose forward hogtie position and I doubt it would be so cozy to sleep like that. His cock was absolutely stiff as a board. I took a 1 gallon baggie and rubberbanded it around his cock and balls so that he could feel free to pee in the night if he had to. I took a light shower, then I dropped down and had him lick me for a little while until I was nice and relaxed.  Then I sat on a chair in front of him and donned my kid leather thigh high boots as he watched.. I put on my shoulder-length leather opera gloves. Then I walked a couple circles around him so he could wonder if I was going to be cruel to him. But like I said, I wasn’t ready for that yet. I mean, it had been 9 years. I stepped on his head, forcing it tightly against the floor and reminded him that I like absolute quite when I sleep. He understood. But just in case, I put in my earplugs. Because guess what, even the best slaves  involuntarily wriggle and squirm as the restraints get more and more uncomfortable.

I crawled into bed with my boots and gloves on, no panties or top. I always love sleeping in my boots. Some people like to sleep with their favorite pillow.

In the morning, I awoke to see a restrained slave on my floor looking pretty weary from the night of discomfort.  His plastic bag was full of pee around his manlyhood.  I unshackled him and told him to go to the shower, clean up, and meet  me in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he showed up at the kitchen while I was cooking an omelet, never saying a word.  I handed him some oranges, a knife, and a juicer and told him to make a pitcher of o.j. Then I set the table and had him sit down for the omelet I had prepared. After a silent breakfast, I ordered him to clean up the kitchen while I got ready for work.

At first, I wanted to really restrain him and leave him for my whole day at work. I thought about chaining his neck to a bolt on the floor with zero slack in the chain. And I would handcuff his hands to another bolt on the floor, arms out straight. That way his neck would be locked down and his arms would be stretched out with no wiggle room at all. And I wanted to tie his cock and balls to a nearby post, and his legs backwards  toward the chain on his neck.  There would be no way he could touch himself.

But then the realistic side of my brain told me that something could go really wrong and he could end up with cut off circulation or have some kind of seizure being left in such a position for so long.

So I studied the room for alternate ideas. Then I notice my Skype camera on my computer. BINGO! A brilliant idea if I do say so myself. I could watch my slave from my camera while I am at work. And it even has sound so I can hear if something starts to go wrong or if a safeword is blurted out amidst the groans of agony (or pure ecstasy).

So I went ahead with my original bondage position. And believe me, this guy was going no where. But if, God forbid, a fire started or… whatever else… I could be home in 10 minutes if I hit all the green lights. And looking at the pathetic soul on my floor, I realized that 10 minutes might not be quite enough time and I could end up with a David Caradine on my hands. Shit. So I needed to have a way to probe him from time to time to make sure all was ok.

I made up a code. I said I’ll call on the phone and let it ring 2 times, then call back for 2 times again. After the 2nd call, he was to say “Thank You, Mistress” if all was “well.” . I would hear him on the Skype cam.

Then I positioned the mouse over the the Skype button area where it would eventually ask to “accept the incoming call.” I carefully taped the mouse there. I positioned a large heavy book a couple inches above the mouse and supported one end on with a plastic cup. So the book was at an angle and poised to drop onto the mouse to activate the Skype call. I tied a string to the cup and put the other end in the guy;s hands, telling him to pull the cup out with the string when he hears the incoming Skype call.

So I fucked with him a little bit with my dressage whip, then headed off to work.

When I got to work, everything was normal. Ground hog day.  I turned on my computer and launched Skype, making the call to my home. Like magic, the call was answered! Damn, I’m good!! Ferris Bueller would be proud.

The image came up and…. There was my old boyfriend…  right in my office… completely helpless and at my mercy. I was controlling him from this far away. For whatever reason, it was really turning me on to know that he was on my screen in my office! And it wasn’t even a porn site, so there were no red flags to the IT guys.  When coworkers would come into my office, I would temporarily cover the Skype screen with my work documents, the windows of which were strategically placed to cover the Skype at the click of a mouse.

I never expected to get that kind of a thrill from this, but it really gave me a charge. I loved watching him squirm and agonize over his restraints and uncomfortable position. And sometimes, I would put in my headphones and hear the audio, which got me going even more. And the thing is, he had no idea if I was watching him at any given moment, or even if I was watching at all.

About 4pm, he was really starting to get vocal with his groans. It was a little scary. I mean, the guy was basically hogtied for a whole day. So I called him with the telephone secret ring. And between his groans, I heard a very clear and direct “Thank you, Mistress.”  So clearly, he was still in the game.

And luckily, other than that,  there were no problems with the physicality of the situation. I didn’t have to make an emergency departure from work. And when I finally got home, my little slave looked absolutely and agonizingly exhausted and spent. When I unchained him, he started crying from the delayed discomfort. I told him to go flop on my bed and I gave him an outstanding hot dinner from my local Japanese restaurant I had stopped by on the way home. He devoured the meal. Then I told him to get himself off while I watched.  Even though we aren’t so compatible as boyfriend/girlfriend, I did have a nice connection with him. We slept together that night.. He spooned me. And I even had my boots off.  The next morning, he was off. Maybe I’ll see him again in another 9 years.

But now my Skype camera at work is empty. It was really fun to have a slave at work!

In design, there is a base rule that usually underpins the concepts of the most successful design: “Function is Beauty.” In other words, there is always the right tool for the right job. You really can’t improve on a hammer. It’s a beautiful thing. Likewise, it’s hard to improve on a riding crop. It’s a crop and it works… and the only thing that is more sensual than the smell of that leather flap and handle, is the sound it makes when it slaps skin or my thigh boot as I command a slave to lick my boot heel. Function.

Last weekend, my friend David (really, just a friend) told me about this party out in the country called “The 4th Annual The Love Fest.” The way he explained it, a very progressive California couple got married 4 years ago and for their wedding reception, they decided to have a sleep-over in tents on their large property: “The Love Fest.” And every year since, it has become more and more of a swinging thing and a “let it all hang out” type of joint. David told me he went last year and saw the original groom massaging a woman on a blanket… right in front of his wife, the original bride. So off we were, driving 45 mins. out into the country. When we arrived, it looked like a farm house with some acreage. Every one had to park at the bottom of the hill and wait for a quad with a trailer to show up to pick us and our luggage up. So the quad showed up and about 6 of us piled in the trailer like a hay ride… and up the hill we went to the party.

It was a pretty cool vibe. Lots of pooled light everywhere and a jazz trio pumping out Duke Ellington for the raccoons. It was mostly a city crowd that was out for a “no questions asked” weekend. A pretty strong sexual vibe was in the air with lots of short skirts and barefeet. I felt a little out of place in high boots (wedges so they wouldn’t sink in dirt) because there really didn’t seem to be much of a kink factor to the crowd. Everybody seemed to match the “love fest” moniker. They were sitting around stroking each other and making out like kids at a high school beach party. David quickly went out to “check out the ladies” (I hope that fucker was kidding because, that is his exact quote). So I just sort of shot the shit with small talk and drank Sirah. There was lots of it because somebody owned a vineyard and they were pouring.

It didn’t take long until several guys had made their way up to me with conversations about how great it is to be a such a progressive party… inevitably leading to dog-butt sniffing about my level of interest free love and swinging. There were lots of stories about “you should have seen what happened at Burning Man this year.” Standard ice breaker.

A while later, David shows up again and I let him know that this gig wasn’t really my cup of tea. Oh yeah, and he was with some petite brunette who was riding piggy back on him. The chick addressed me with, “What would make it better for you? Maybe you could be a little more relaxed with a massage. My husband gives killer massages.” Just then, the husband walks up, not even batting an eye that his wife is on the back of David.

So David introduces me as “my dominatrix friend.” Instantly, the couple looks taken aback. “Is he kidding?”, says the husband. So then I go straight to my cold dominatrix persona: “Do you think he’s joking?” I stare him down for a long second, then turn and walk away abruptly.

Now that I was made, I decided to get into my element. I went to the bathroom, opened my bag an pulled out my heavy leather collar. Some time ago I made it by chopping a man’s plain brown leather belt in half. I love it because people can never make out what it is. Like, is that a dog collar or a “punk” collar or … where the hell did you get that. It looks like a thick strap of leather around my neck with no detail. But it always puts me in the mood and always starts the conversation flowing. It looks particularly striking when set against a non- s/m outfit.

So maybe I was a tad over-dressed for the Love Fest, but who cares. Fuck ‘em. After about 5 minutes, a guy came up to me who had heard that I am the “dominatrix friend.” Even before he opened his mouth, I knew he was a sub and that he was going to pursue that. And sure enough, there he went. Of course, he tried to be so surreptitious, but I can read these types like the first line of an eye chart and it was fun watching him play it out with me. Still, I didn’t feel like all the nice nice chit chat b.s. So I shut him off with”How would you like to be tied up and whipped.” You could almost here the “shwinggg”in his trousers. But of course, I didn’t have my black bag with me because I thought that shit wouldn’t fly at the Love Fest. So I had nothing to tie the guy up with. I told him to go find me a semi-private, out-of-the-way place to use as a make-shift dungeon and to get me some something to restrain him with. Cool. he darted out toward the garage. I love these closet sub types. They’re too afraid to embrace their inner kink until something like a Love Fest gives them permission. This dude was in for it.

About 10 minutes later, he shows up again (and 10 minutes was a little long by my book). He says there’s a yurt just past the garage that would be ideal for the dungeon.

He presents his restraints… a package full of sturdy 2 foot long electrical cable ties. Awesome. These are what the cops use at riots and demonstrations to restrain the college protesters. And guess what? They make an unbelievably effective restraint, even though I’m not usually a fan of plastic. But watch out, if cinched tightly, then can cut off circulation faster than almost any type of fetter. In fact, they should come with a warning label. Anyway, the guy actually found a package that held 50 cable ties… so I figured he was hoping for some serious restraint action. Ok. I had him turn around and cinched his wrists together behind his back. Again, the “shwingg” was all but audible. A few love festers took notice that something was going on. They sort of drifted over to check it out. I ducked off my panties and crammed them into his mouth, after which I took another cable tie and cinched around his neck and mouth to hold the panties in place as a gag. Trust me, this is a really effective gag that will never slip off! Some of the “lovers” were getting a little concerned, but they still looked on with that circus-side show anticipation. I walked over to some guy with a beer in his hand, unbuckled and removed his belt without saying a single word. I felt like a magician asking for someone’s watch. So I took the belt and put it around my cable-tied guy’s neck and led him off to the yurt.

In the yurt, I commanded the guy to lay face down on the indoor-outdoor carpet. Then I had him cross his legs (Indian style) and zip-tied them into place. Again, I had to be ultra careful to not cut off his circulation, because I wasn’t planning on sticking around to baby-sitting the guy. Then I took a third zip-tie and tied his ankles to his wrists behind his back. A perfect hog-tie with only 3 zip ties and that guy was not going anywhere. And of course, it was no surprise to me when the guy immediately started thrusting into the carpet. So I grabbed him by the hair and told him sternly that he better not move muscle. And to hammer home the point, I took the belt from his neck and whipped him while asking if he understood. But I wasn’t sure if he knew I was serious so I whipped him until he started groaning in agony. Pretty soon, some chick pops her head in and says “Everything ok in here?” She got a quick look at the hog-tied guy and I could see shock and repulsion hit her face. She was completely vanilla and actually thought there might be a problem. But then she saw me holding the belt and I shot her a look that says “you’re not welcome here” and she took the hint and disappeared. Cool. I was about to do the same thing. But not even 20 seconds later, some other chick comes in and says “I heard there was something fun going on over here.” “Fun?” I said coldly. “Does it look like this guy is having fun.” She looked me dead in the eyes and said coolly, “I guess that depends on one’s definition of fun.”

Fine. “See that post? Go over and stand with your back to it. You’re going to watch over our friend here to make sure he is not in any harm.” This chick, clearly not kinky but very interested in the situation at hand, gladly walked over to the center post in the yurt and leaned against it. I studied her a moment like a drill sergeant scrutinizes a new recruit. Then I strapped her neck right to the post as tight as I could without strangling her. Then I zip-tied her hands behind the post. Dang, those things are easy and effective! And I got right in her face and said “You fucking worthless bitch.” I grabbed her boobs for a little bit, slipped one out of her v-neck and sucked on it a while. It was almost enough to make her come. She was writhing and moaning and the guy on the ground was digging it. But I had had enough, so I slapped her in the face and told her, “Don’t say a fucking word to anybody unless his hands start turning white. If someone comes in to rescue you, tell them to fuck off. Other than that, not a peep out of you, you little fucking slut.” And just for fun, I stuck my hand down her pants. Sure enough, she was dripping wet. I took some with my middle finger, brought it up to her mouth and stuck it in. She started giving my finger a blow job… and it was the hottest blow job I have ever seen. It was my finger, but it was the hottest blow job I had ever seen. I was getting too worked up myself, so I darted out of there. I found a cozy little bench in a dark corner outside by a bush and immediately got myself off. It was kind of hot thinking that my finger in me was the same one that was in her.

I needed to have the proverbial after sex cigarette. But I don’t smoke, so I ended up chilling at a campfire where they were cooking smores. Let me tell you, there is nothing better than a hot smore after a hot little session. That melted chocolate and marshmallow was practically a second orgasm.

So I visited at the party a while more and had idle chat with the love festers. Then I found some scissors and headed back to the yurt. I cut the girl’s hands free from behind the post and then stuck the scissors between her neck and the zip-tie (kind of like a holster). I told the guy to start thrusting. I told the girl to watch him get off, then get herself off and let him free. I gave her a sweet peck on the lips and said “You’re not really a bitch. You are sweet and I’m so glad to have met you. “ Then I slipped out the door, found my David, and bailed. We didn’t feel like sticking around for pancakes in the morning.

Moral of the story: Function is beauty. Zip-ties seem kind of faux or cheap, but there is always the right tool for the right job. Sometimes steel bondage (heavy shackles, steel neck collar, etc) gets me off, and sometimes the cheap plastic stuff is amazing. And as a footnote, I just don’t get vanilla love fests. Sorry, I just don’t get it. Oh yeah, and now my beautiful high wedge boots look pathetically covered with dust. Now I need to find someone to take care of them for me. Where’s a good sub when you need one. Maybe I should have stayed for the pancakes.