Strictly Speaking – With Mistress Karen

At this exact moment as I type these exact words, this girl from the market is licking my boots. She has no idea what I’m typing. I told her to take her time. Her hands are nicely bound in a leather arm binder and she is wearing jeans and a white bra. Honest to God, I don’t even know her name. I’M SO SERIOUS. How did this happen? Hold on….

I just ordered her to stop it and go over to stand facing the corner… and she did it. She’s standing there right now with her face to the corner and her arms in the binder. She really could use some nasty pumps with those jeans (instead of the little health girl shoes), but I’m not going to push my luck.

Anyway… as I was saying before I got tired of her licking my boots… I went to the health food store for some carrot juice. That’s my all time favorite healthy drink. So I bought the juice, walked outside, cracked open the juice and drank a little. But it tasted weird. Of course, the date had expired. I went back into the store to return it and the clerk, the chick standing in the corner right now, said she could only give store credit because I had already opened it. WHAT!?? That’s outrageous… and I told her so. After a little more bickering, I think she was trying to calm me down when she half-jokingly quipped “You are cute when you get mad.” Of course ,that was the fastest way to shut me up. I shot her a glare that said “Just fucking try me.” And you know what, she did. “That’s not a bad thing. I really think you’re cute like that”, she threatened. At that point, it was like Poe’s Tell-tale heart. Did she know about me? Was she testing me? Or was she serious? So I had to test the waters with: “Yeah, well I bet I wouldn’t be so cute if I was yelling at you like this in private.” ZING! Her eyes lit up and we both had this secret understanding… pure electricity. She called her boss over and showed him the carrot juice. Then she lied and said she tasted it too and now I feels like she is going to get sick. And she put on a little act. He told her to go ahead and leave her shift to go home and recuperate. So, it may be a shitty carrot juice return policy, but the girl has a pretty great manager.

I walked out first, got into my car, and with nothing more than a look, told her to follow me in her car. And now she’s standing in my corner looking pathetic and devine and the same time. I think I’ll go kiss her neck. Actually, I’m going to surprise her by whipping a plastic baggie over her head and making her suffocate and struggle a bit. Then, I’ll kiss her neck. Sorry. gotta go.

Now that I’m coming down from the extended “vacation” of being chained in a dungeon for an entire month, I’m starting to feel a little more like my dominant self. First of all, I got pissed that the assistant I was paying to handle my bills while I was away screwed up and my cable got shut off yesterday. Bitch. That would certainly bring anybody’s dominant side back. So last night, I called up Candice again to drive up here so I can abuse her a little. She is going to have to pay for my assistant’s sins (even though they have nothing to do with each other and have never met). I can’t wait to see Candice (don’t tell her I said that!). She really needs to be punished. I just bought some new boots on my “netflix” boot service (the “Dionne” boot by BCBG – see below) and I’m going to make her kiss them for an hour while I drink tea. I’ll have her in a posture collar connected to a thick leather leash (the kind that feels like a heavy strap). God, I’m so pissed about the cable. Sorry Candice, but that kind of crap is just not acceptable.

Ciao, Karen.

Hello,

I know some of you are getting a little weary of my submissive side rearing it’s pathetic head, but don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be long until I get back to the right end of the whip. Well, actually I prefer a riding crop. Any way, it turns out I have a bit of the “Stockholm Syndrome”.  You know… where a captive falls in love and identifies with the captor.  So last night, I was longing for that uncomfortable feeling of a heavy chain around my neck again. I guess a month wasn’t enough.   I crawled into my cozy comfortor on my super snuggly bed…  and then decided my neck had to be chained to the headboard. So I got out of bed, put on some 5 inch heels (Mary Jane’s), grabbed a heavy chain, crawled back into bed with my heels on, locked one end tightly around my neck and the other end to the head board post.  Ahhh. Now I felt comfortable. I set the key on the night stand and gave it a little flick to make it rest a few inches out of my reach. Feeling very satisfied and secure, I dozed off to sweet dreams. Then, many times throughout the night, I would be awakened by the tug and hardness of the cold chain.  Now that’s what I call a good night’s sleep. In the morning, I had to masturbate a few times before using my shoe to help reach the key and get myself out. I’m in love with my captor.  Fuck me.

Oh My God! I slept in my own comfy bed last night with no chain around my neck and no big sessions interrupting my sleep. I love my bed. I guess it took being chained in a dungeon for an entire month to turn me vanilla and gain a real appreciation for the finer things in life… like my pillow.  I’m still sore from that whole ordeal. I’m drawing a bath now and I intend to put on some Jack Johnson and chill out in the warm bath for the entire day.  Don’t get me wrong, dungeon life is a fucking rush, but I have a new appreciation for being feminine and cozy.   More about the dungeon experience in future posts. Now I need a vanilla massage to go with the pillow and bath.

Hi All,

I’ve been a bad girl and disappeared for a while.  Do you ever have those times where you just want to crawl into a hole (or a dungeon) and just check out from life for a while. Well, that’s how it has been for me the past couple months. So sorry.  I really didn’t want to leave my blog hanging in limbo, but I just got distracted by life. But I feel like I’m rounding a corner and will be back to my normal self for a while.

For some reason, I have been having this crazy yearning to be submissive during the last few months. I know that sounds crazy coming from a self-proclaimed dominatrix, but I can’t explain it. I decided to turn myself over to another Dominatrix I know, Mistress DuChamp, to be her lifestyle slave for a month. It all started when I saw that movie “Black Snake Moan” and started to get turned on my the idea of being chained up. I wanted to be locked in her dungeon by a heavy chain around my neck for exactly one month. She thought it was a little on the extreme side and had me sign a waiver stating that it was my intention to be chained for a month and that I agreed that no matter how hard I begged or pleaded during that month, it was my choice to not be released until exactly one month had transpired.

Well, that month has ended and I was damn glad she finally released me. I’m a filthy mess and was only given sponge baths once every 2 days. I had to pee in a dirty bucket.  She would have her other slaves brush my teeth while I was handcuffed. But, I’ll tell you what… I was the witness to and part of all kinds of interesting play in the dungeon during that month… since I was basically a piece of furniture and no one could avoid me in there.  I have a lot of stories to relate. And don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be back to my regular old dominate self before long.

Sorry it took me so long to finish my Halloween story. Anyway, at the office Halloween party, it seems that my “mistress of the ranch” costume was quite the hit. For some strange reason, the women in particular were very interested in my thick leather collar. One woman actually said it was “so cute”. I don’t know about “cute” but I do know one thing, when you strap a thick piece of leather around your neck with a heavy metal buckle, wear a classy skirt and riding boots, the room is yours.

About an hour into the party, and after a couple drinks, a guy from marketing was flirting with me and seemed to have all kinds of interest in my dressage whip. I wanted to fuck with him. In kind of a game, I ordered him to get down on his knees and unlace my left riding boot. Of course, I urged him playfully with the whip. And this was in plain view of everyone. People were laughing it off as funny halloween play, but some folks got uncomfortable when they saw how serious and dominant I was… kind of like… “Is she being serious?” The squeamish ones drifted to other parts, as if they felt too voyeuristic for this funny Halloween play. There he was, kneeling down and unlacing my right boot. The vibe in the room was getting really sexual and almost everyone left that area except for another couple that tried to ignore the innocent unlacing activity.

Once he had the lace completely off, I whispered a command into his ear. I told him to go in the bath room and tie that lace tightly around his cock and balls. He quickly disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later he returned and his trousers seemed to have a very large bump in them… which he tried to cover with his baseball jersey (he was a ball player for Halloween). Again whispering in his ear, I told him to go out and buy me another shoe lace within a half an hour or I would tell everyone about about our little game. And he was off.

Exactly 24 minutes later (and I have no idea how he did it so fast) he returned with the exact same brand new replacement boot lace. Of course, he still had that strange bump in the middle of his pants. I was pleased. By that time, a couple of girls had wandered over to chit chat with me since I was sitting their all alone with an unlaced boot. I told the girls, “I own this guy.” They kind of smirked in confusion. “Watch.” I said. Then I gave the guy a swat with my dressage whip and commanded him to lace up my boot. The girls were impressed when he jumped right down on his knees to do it. The blond joked “Maybe we should all carry whips for getting men to do what we want.” As they were chuckling and the guy was finishing the lacing, I forcefully grabbed the his chin and pulled his head in close, where I strictly whispered… “Every single time we are at a company gathering, your cock and balls better be tied tightly with that shoe lace. Do you understand?” He nodded. The girls watched in quizzical disbelief as the guy turned white and nodded in agreement to my command. “Get out of here. Can’t you see I’m visiting with these nice young ladies?” The guy shamefully disappeared. The girls were like… “What the fuck was going on there?!”

The brunette said “Wasn’t that the V.P. of marketing? He can probably get you fired.” “Yeah” I said. “I own that guy.” The girls looked at each other and their expression made it clear that they knew there was something sexual between me and the V.P.” But then again, all he did was buy me a boot lace.

First off, my credit card was credited with the return of the brown leather gloves! YAAAAY. Now I can order some new ones. Maybe I’ll go for the $850 Gautier ones. Now honestly, no matter how hot they are, they could never really be worth that kind of money, right? Well, on second thought, they might be pretty damn hot.

Anyway, as you know Friday night was Halloween and I have some rather interesting stories from that night. I decided to dress up as myself… well… at least my private and sexual self.

I work in an office with about 30 regular co-workers. Last year I went as an angel. I wish I had been blogging then because it was a pretty great costume, complete with a boned satin corset. The halo clashed with my real one so I left it at home.

But this year, I thought I would shake things up a bit and let them see a bit of the real me. Usually, I keep to myself at work and would say I’m not the most gregarious. It’s true we have to all work together all day, but I’m not the best at bullshitting at the water cooler.

But fuck it. I really wanted to go as a dominatrix to our company party. And knowing there was going to be booze there, it seemed like it would only be a matter of time until people dropped their guard and would be revealing their true submissive or otherwise kinky side.

My standard dom outfit was feeling a bit cliche as I was getting ready in the afternoon. You know the drill, my hair was up with a black chopstick holding it together. My neck was cinched into a high-end posture collar. I had a full corset and my black shoulder-length gloves with fur trim. Definitely an expensive look. Then on the bottom I wore a long black rubber hobble skirt and wickedly high lace-up oxfords.

But when I looked in the mirror, it really felt like a costume, like I was getting ready for a big scene or something. It made me want to just lay down and start playing with myself to some Philip Glass music. And actually, that’s exactly what I did.

So it was back to the shower to start over. While the water was pouring over my head, I came up with the perfect outfit for the office party.

When I arrived at the party, which was in full swing, I knew I had made the right outfit choice when I saw the heads turn. Not to be rude, but with some folks (like diabetic Dan) it doesn’t take a whole lot to get their heads to turn. But when Michelle and Sarah, the run-of-the-mill office hotties, take notice… well ladies and gentlemen, I have arrived.

I had on a camel colored A-line flowing skirt that went just below the knee… where it met my lace-up dark brown riding boots (the real deal from an equestrian store). Tucked into the top of the skirt was a crisp white blouse. I hid the skirt/blouse transition with a super wide (almost corset feeling) brown belt which felt sturdy and rugged against the white shirt. Can you say Catherine Hepburn? And to top it off… turned out the be the most sexually charged accessory I have ever worn. In fact, it ended up being an instant ice breaker, conversation starter, and object of verbal foreplay. Flirting abounded.

You see, at the top of my crisp white shirt was a classic starched collar and the front of the blouse was unbuttoned a little to give that feminine allure. But the elegant neckline was contrasted by a two and half inch wide leather belt that was strapped around my neck with a simple heavy buckle in front. It was actually a belt I was a little tired of, so after the Philip Glass music, I got an Exacto knife and shortened the belt to a little over a foot long so that it would fit snuggly around my neck.

Oh my God, it got more attention than any fetish gear I have ever worn in my life. Oh, and of course, I topped off the outfit with a dressage whip I held in my gloved hand. The gloves were short English riding gloves, kid leather.

In wondering about the outfit, people asked “Who are you supposed to be?” I invariably replied, “Someone you want to meet in a tack room.”

Now I’m out of time for writing, but I will create another post soon with some of the details of the goings on at the party.

It’s been a while since Candice left. I was going trying to clean up the place a bit. As I was putting away the chocolate covered long gloves that I had slept in, I started to get nervous because they totally looked WORN. Crap.  The handcuffs had scuffed the wrist area of the gloves. I should have never slept handcuffed like that. Also, the gloves had plenty of new wrinkles from wearing them and they just didn’t look new still. I started to panic and decided I have to straigten them up in order to get them back to “new” condition so I could get my refund. First, I found some shoe polish that seemed to match pretty well and I carefully touched up the areas where the handcuffs had rubbed. Then I put the gloves flat on my kitchen table, and started stacking all kinds of heavy books on them in order to flatten them out again. Jesus, this “Netflix” concept is eventually going to fuck me up. But for now, I think the gloves will be in good enough condition that they won’t question the return.

As the gloves sat there getting pressed, I started getting a little blue and lonesome. It was fun having Candice around and now the place was empty. To change my mood, I sat at the piano for a while. It started working.  I think they’ll take the gloves back.

Honestly, I am pretty easy-going but I really have a problem when people aren’t punctual. It’s probably mostly my own problem, but it just seems rude to be flaky.

So as you know, Candice was supposed to visit for the weekend. I was so excited to see a friend since I hardly know anyone up here in my new digs in Northern California. In my mind, I had the whole weekend figured out… where we would eat, what we would do, how we would play, etc.

Candice said she was going to arrive here on Saturday at 11am. This would make it easy for her to drive up from San Francisco after a leisurely post-breakfast departure. At 10:50am, I put the water on for tea. Of course I had already dressed (and re-dressed a few times) in the “perfect” outfit: kind of casually sexy. Though it wasn’t supposed to be any kind of official date, I was somehow nervous about setting the right tone with my outfit because I haven’t seen Candice in a while. So I ended up wearing a simple plum cashmere sweater with a ballerina neck line, and some camel corduroy pants tucked in to some knee-high, lace up riding boots. So the look was kind of casual, but still had that kind of an earthy, dominant feel to it.

At 11:15am, I poured myself a tea and sat on the sofa, not knowing if I should unpack another moving box or just twiddle my thumbs for the next few minutes.

At 12:10, I was bored and getting pissed. I decided to leave a note on the door and get out of the house to make her feel guilty. So I left a note, “Candice, I was getting hungry and ran out to a restaurant. Back later.”

But as I was walking down the front path, the FedEx truck showed up and the driver had me sign for 12 packages from high end retailers!! They were my “NetFlix” clothes and shoes. Wow. I suddenly didn’t feel like going out anywhere; I just wanted to open all of those boxes and try everything on.

So I poured myself a glass of Sirah, put on some classic tango music and started playing dress up. Candice was a vague thought and if she showed up, I would answer in whatever garment I had on at the time.

The clothes looked amazing and I was getting really turned by feeling all the couture fabric against my skin and the shoes were getting me pretty moist. I have a bit of a fetish for super expensive shoes with a towering heel. I guess they make me feel like a sex object and I love that feeling. My chocolate brown opera gloves showed up and I had to immediately take a little break, put them on and masturbate.

I was so ready for Candice to knock on the door. But she didn’t. I had gone through all the boxes and no Candice. How rude could she be. I didn’t remember her being like that. Finally, at 3:30 the phone rang and it was her. She babbled a litany of the usual excuses and I found her explanations really annoying. She said she was just leaving San Francisco and would be here in about an hour (which really means two hours). That was just enough time to get really petulant.

Ding Dong. The doorbell rang at exactly 5:30. I opened the door, now in new jumper, the opera gloves, and some wicked-high Gucci pumps that I could hardly walk in.

She was all smiles and babbling about how sorry she was to be late. Blah, blah, blah. She didn’t even dress up for me, but showed up in some jeans and a t-shrit with some cutsie saying on it. I didn’t even say a word. Instead, I grabbed her talking lips and squeezed them together to let her know that the babble must stop. I think I hurt her a bit because she jolted to an angry look. As I held her lips as if grabbing a duck’s bill, she finally settled down and I dragged her by the lips toward the bookcase where a thick, 8ft. chain was waiting. I ordered her to put her hands together, then I chained them together securely with a padlock. Then I took the other end of the chain under her legs from the front and went up her back and looped tightly around her neck, locking it with a second padlock. I could tell she was getting turned on. With the remaining bit of chain hanging from her neck, I took it around a post that is part of the room divider near the living room. I drew the chain in really tightly around the post, leaving no slack for her head to move. In fact, her head was in full contact with the post and it didn’t look very comfortable.

But then I looked at her there, and it still bothered me that she was so casually dressed. It was almost like she dissed me on purpose. Whatever. She had on these stupid Converse tennis shoes that really insulted me. Remembering that we had the same size shoe (6 1/2″) I left her there and went to my fed ex boxes where I found some 5″ Chloe wedges (probably the sexiest shoe I have ever seen). I yanked off her Converses and forced her feet into the Chloe’s. I could tell she was loving it… and those shoes. So there she was… chained at the neck to a post, that chain running down her back and through her crotch to her hands that were chained together in front. I liked her jeans a lot better with a big chain over them. And the Chloe’s looked even better on her than on me! Good thing my place is carpeted or I would never be able to return those shoes.

I took her chin in the firm grip of my glove, looked her right in the eye and coldly said: “Don’t ever be late again”. Then I marched out of the room, turned off the light and went upstairs to my bedroom. I changed into some schlubby clothes, went back downstairs, walked right past Candice and out the door because I felt like seeing a movie. I was hungry too, so I decided to eat at a restaurant first before the movie. After I ordered, the thought that Candice was standing in those high wedge shoes was getting me going again. Dinner was fair, then I was off to the movie, a romantic comedy.

But in the movie, I started getting scared that Candice might have to pee and accidentally ruin those shoes. I couldn’t take it much past the first hour, so I bailed on the movie to make sure Candice didn’t wreck my shoes.

At home, I played it cool when I came in the door. It was a relief to make a quick glance and see she hadn’t made any puddles. But she did look pretty drained from standing there all that time. She started to apologize, but I really wasn’t in the mood, so I strapped a leather gag in her mouth. Then I took off her shoes and put them neatly on the shelf. Phew!! I unchained her neck and led her by the chained hands to the bathroom were I locked the loose end around the base of the toilet. Nighty night. I switched off the light and closed the door behind me, ignoring her garbled pleas to be released.

Upstairs, I took a hot shower to wind down. After relaxing in my robe on my bed for a bit, I kept looking at the chocolate brown opera gloves and thinking about how much they turn me on. So I put on the gloves, turned off the light and handcuffed my hands behind my back. I really wanted to sleep like that. So worked my way into the sheets, hands still locked in those long gloves behind my back and I tried to sleep. I tossed around for about 45 mins before I finally was relaxed enough to doze off. I loved being locked like that. I loved having Candice locked in the bathroom downstairs.

In the morning, I was awakened by Candice’s sorrowful whimpering. I think she had learned her lesson about being late. My hands were still locked behind my back in those scrumptious leather gloves and I loved waking up like that. I made my way out of the bed and found the handcuff key on the dresser. But the gloves made it difficult for me to maneuver the key into the hole and I ended up dropping the key several times, having to squat down, grab the key with my locked hands behind my back and start over again each time. But finally, I heard that joyful little “click” and I was free.

As I approached the downstairs bathroom where Candice was, I started getting this rush of guilt for being overly harsh. I wanted to give her a taste of sweetness. When I opened the door, she looked utterly miserable and uncomfortable. Clearly, she hadn’t had a very nice night. As I unchained her, I spoke in a normal, sweet voice and tried to comfort her. She was so relieved when I took the gag out and there were impression marks all over her cheeks. I left my dominatrix personality out of the room and concentrated on reversing the harshness that I had dealt to her. First, I handed her a fluffy robe to change into while I made a protein smoothie as quickly as I could. Then I drew a hot bubble bath in the upstairs bathroom. I gently led her there where just slipped into the soothing water. The look on her face turned from anguish to exaltation.  After a few moments of letting her settle in, I handed over the smoothie, which she took straight to her lips (she hadn’t even eaten dinner). I sat on the floor next to the tub.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

And she started to cry gently: “Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a little traumatic. I really wanted to be with you.”

I assured her that we were “cool” and I that I regretted having given her such harsh treatment.

She warmed up to me and I told her that after her bath, she can put on something nice and we can go to a restaurant downtown for an omlette and some coffee. I left her bathside to clean up too, putting on a CD of some Keb Mo’ music.

After a while I came downstairs in some jeans and a floral blouse (kind of retro) and Candice was in her same jeans, a turtleneck and boots with a rounded toe and a stacked wooden heel. She looked elegantly hot, but comfortable at the same time.

We went to the restaurant and had some great girl chat ( FYI… hardly touching on kink).

Then we checked out an estate sale on the way back to my place. At home, we felt so spent from the night before that we decided to lay down on my bed for a little nap. I thought it was sexy that we were both still fully dressed. I loved seeing her sleep in her boots.

When we awoke, we both felt refreshed and a little melancholy because we knew she had to get back to San Francisco. We said goodbye in the driveway and as she was about to pull away, I whispered in her ear…

“Don’t be late next time.”  She smiled and headed off.

- Karen

I was going through online catalogs looking for a new bedside lamp when I meandered over to the Nordstrom site. Next thing you know, I was drooling over this straight wool skirt that had the lines of the 1940′s but had been updated with a little tighter cut and an earth-tone herringbone pattern. I could see that skirt with a crispy white blouse and some insanely high mustard-colored mary janes that have an extra thick strap across the top of the foot. Needless to say, I had to have that skirt. But… AKKKKK! It was $485!! Okay, at least I have good taste. So in an ultra masochistic move, I decided I could do without the bedside lamp and apply that money toward the skirt.

A couple days later, the FedEx guy showed up with my box. I immediately opened it and found that the fabric felt even better than I imagined. It was seriouly high quality with a silk lining over felt padding. I tried the skirt on, and even just with my bra, it looked amazing on me. So I grabbed my mustard mary janes from the closet and put them on. So now with the super high heels on (kind of a chunkier classic heel, not a stiletto), it looked like a million bucks.

The next day, I wore the whole outfit to work. It’s amazing how a high end skirt can give a girl some confidence. I really felt sexier and more powerful. It’s like how a little kid puts on a super man cape and they really think they can fly. Suddenly, all these compliments from both men and women were coming at me.

Four days later, the credit card bill came… and that skirt instantly lost its luster. Crap. So much for my self esteem. It was kind of like a bad hangover. Sure the night before was great but the next day you feel like crawling under a rock.

As I was making some tea to sit down and drown my sorrows in a Netflix movie, this major light bulb went off in my head. What if clothing were like Netflix! In other words, what if I could return the skirt, get the credit back on my credit card, buy a new skirt, wear it, get compliments, and return it and keep them coming just like my DVDs. Wow, I would never have to wear the same outfit twice. For that matter, I could order all kinds of couture kinky clothes from Neiman Markus or Barneys New York, let my slaves experience them (of course, I would need a slave for that first) then return the garments and have no credit card charges.

In a second flat, I was working hard to carefully re-insert the tag back into the fabric of the wool skirt. Luckily, I didn’t spill coffee on it at work that day. I sent the skirt back and prayed that the money would go back on my card. So much for the hangover.

The genie was out of the bottle. For the next 4 hours I was drunk with ordering from the high end web sites like e-luxury.com and all the big department stores. First I found some killer shoulder length opera gloves for $395. They are hot!!! Though I’m mostly dominant, I was couldn’t help thinking how sexy that would feel to be handcuffed in those gloves that have buttery leather going all the way up to my shoulder. The mental image of the steel cuffs against the chocolate brown leather makes me want to handcuff myself with my arms behind my back and sleep like that. I’m serious.

Then I ordered about 5 more skirts, each costing over $600 and then about 3 dresses that were over $800. Then it was off to BlueFly.com where I started creaming over all the shoes! I’ve never been able to afford thousand dollar shoes… until now. But I realized that shoes are different and are more difficult for the Netflix model because you can’t wear them on anything except carpet. That kind of puts a kink in the plan. But at least when Candice comes over on the weekend, I will be able to impress her around the house. If she’s tied up, I can visit her throughout the day in different couture outfits and she will think I’m the baroness that I feel like in my own mind. Or I can have her dress me in all the different outfits and shoes for a little game. I just have to be damn careful (or she does) because if I get a coffee stain on anything, I’m screwed!!! My formerly zero balance credit card now has a whopping balance of $14,215. Shit! Let’s pray I don’t lose a tag. I sure as hell won’t be eating any spaghetti in any of those clothes.