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.

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.

Ciao, Karen.

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.

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.

She took me to a large room with a huge square vat of hot cedar and enzyme chips and told me to get into the vat, cover my torso, and she would leave the room and be back to cover me more. Slipping inside the vat of hot wood chips was so relaxing and a very odd feeling. Deborah came back and proceeded to bury my whole body in the hot chips, except my head of course. It was really dense and my arms felt pinned. Kind of like being buried to the neck in sand at the beach (which also used to turn me on when I was little).

Being a switch, I easily changed gears from my dominant mental pose and let her take over. Each time she asked if I would like more weight of the chips, I whispered “yes please”. She would leave the room and come back every five minutes or so and swab my face and forehead down with cool wet cloths as this stuff really made a girl sweat. She would leave the wet cloth over my eyes and touch my lips with a straw, where I could drink cold water. This went on for 1/2 hour. She said most people could only take about 20 minutes, but I really wanted to make it last and I felt like I was somehow pleasing her by taking more. I was soaking it ALL up! I got really excited every time I could hear the door open, but couldn’t see her and didn’t know where she was or if she would speak to me or give me more water. After what seemed much too soon, Deborah said the bath was done and left me with a type of horse brush to clear the cedar chips off and it was back to the shower, where I cleaned off and took care of another unexpected piece of business, and I am not talking about the one from my job. I will definitely save my money for more trips to this place. I think I have discovered my new fetish for spa bondage!

The thing that’s great about Candice is that she is classically simple-looking and beautiful at the same time. I would say she reminds me of a female local news anchor without the makeup cutsie wardrobe.

It feels good to know that I will soon have a friend visiting.  Maybe we’ll start with a latte first. I’ll keep you posted.

STRICTLY SPEAKING WITH MISTRESS KAREN erforscht die geheime Welt des S/M, Bondage und Fetisch. Begleiterin auf dieser informativen Reise in die dunkleren Bereiche der Sexualität ist eine Domina in ihren Zwanzigern, die durchaus als Mädchen von Nebenan durchgehen könnte.

Diese Dokumentation, im MTV-Stil produziert, wurde rund um die Welt im Fernsehen und auf Kabelkanälen gesendet. 2005 wurde sie in Verona/Italien zum wiederholten Male gezeigt. Sie ist als wertvolle Quelle für die Psychologie-Abteilung von Hochschulbibliotheken genutzt worden.

Weil der Ton im witzigen und offenen Stil gehalten ist, eignet sie sich fantastisch als Eisbrecher für jeden, der in dieser Richtung gern mit einem Partner experimentieren möchte.

Billboard Magazine Das Billboard Magazin gab STRICTLY SPEAKING eine überschwengliche Beurteilung. Viele Leute haben uns geschrieben, dass sich diese Dokumentation vorzüglich als Hintergrund Video für eine Party oder einen Club eignet.

STRICTLY SPEAKING hatte das Glück, Bildschirm-Schönheit Monique Parent als Fetish Model präsentieren zu dürfen. Ursprünglich 1997 veröffentlicht, ist diese Dokumentation eine historische Momentaufnahme der S/M Kultur von Los Angeles. Sie enthält auch seltene Aufnahmen von Bondage aus früheren Zeiten.

Klicken Sie hier, um einen IPod or Quicktime Download von diesem verrückten und informativen Film zu bestellen

I recently moved to Northern California and have finally settled in a bit. It’s refreshing to have a new town, a new job and hopefully some new friends soon. It’s much slower here than L.A., that’s for sure. The only problem so far is my place here is much smaller than my old place and I am trying to find out what to do with ELEVEN PAIR OF BOOTS!!! Although I think just diplaying them around like art is a great idea, my boyfriend (who doesn’t even live here but visits on weekends when he can), thinks I might have a hard time explaining such a display of footware to potential new friends. Especially since four pair are thigh high boots that you just don’t throw on to go to Whole Foods, unless of course you get really bored and want to shake thinigs up a bit.  I’m thinking at least for now I don’t have to have anyone over here, so several pair of my boots will just line hallway, reminding me of all kinds of situations I have been in while wearing them, and anticipating some new adventures that are waiting for me. I’m really close to San Francisco and you know it’s pretty foggy and rainy up here this time of year. The perfect weather for boots. The perfect opportunity to check out a new scene, if you know what I mean.

- Karen

You can check out Monique’s home page here.