Strictly Speaking – With Mistress Karen

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.

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.

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.

The universe works in strange ways. Today I was getting a little blue and feeling a little lonesome in my new neighborhood which is 400 miles away my lifelong home in L.A.  Just when I was about head out to the mall to get even more depressed, the phone rang. It was Candice, a girl I used to play with from time to time in L.A.  Sometimes we would go out to coffee, but mostly, she was my sub and liked to be tied up and neglected.  Anyway, it felt so good to talk to her. She now lives in San Francisco!  We set up a time for next weekend when she wants to come and take a little abuse. Part of me wants to just visit and do girl stuff, but the other part of me wants to give her what she craves and deserves. Maybe I’ll find the perfect balance. Come to think of it, it would be kind of fun to chain her up and get all my unpacking done while she stays put. Of course, I could occasionally whip or clothespin her to break up the drudgery of unpacking. What I should actually do is stick a bit gag in her mouth and cinch her into a corset and posture collar… then have her unpack for me.

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.