Fantastic weekend

I had a surprisingly good weekend. I say 'surprisingly' because, at the start of it, I was not feeling very well. My menstrual cycle, about half of the time, is quite painful, and I woke up on Saturday in a good deal of pain. I spent a good chunk of the day wrapped around my heating pad, feeling sorry for myself.

However, Domme duty calls, so I rallied, packed up my stuff, and met my little pet for dinner before the ClubFem play party. One of the wonderful things about my pet is that he's very thoughtful, and he showed up with flowers for me, and a fantastic present: a pink riding crop he bought me, from an equestrian outfitter. If he's trying to stay in his favored position at the end of my leash, he's doing a very good job so far.

We had dinner and then went early to the party to help the Headmistress set up. I helped lace another Domme into her corset, ordered a few boys around, and got changed myself. Since I wasn't feeling that well, I didn't dress up as much as I wanted to, but the power surge of so many eager little submissive boys definitely improved my mood. By the time I got dressed, I was feeling a lot sassier. I wore a black bustier under a sheer top, a miniskirt with a slit up the side, and black suede platform boots. And I made my pet wear his special little ruffled panties, as well as my collar and pink leash. That was a particular honor for him -- one that he thanked me for profusely.

The party was a lot of fun -- especially towards the end, when the masochists started lining up for me. I haven't been able to let my inner sadist out that much in a good long while, and it felt incredible. The Headmistress loaned me one of her boys, who can really take a beating, and I used a new red-and-black flogger on him which is particularly nasty. I made him bellow quite nicely, and left him with some nice purple welts along his hips and ass. I also just let myself go -- I went into that floating, happy, sadistic headspace, and I can tell from the soreness in my biceps that I really used nearly my full strength.

At one point, after I'd beat the Headmistress's boy, I turned around and saw a number of eager, slightly terrified little boys' faces. Some of them are probably less interested in me than they were -- because now they know I can really pack a wallop. But a few of them are a little more interested -- for the very same reason!

And now my pet knows just what I'm capable of. He's not a masochist, so I would really never do that to him, but he does know he'll get punished if he doesn't obey. It isn't a bad thing for him to see just how much power and authority I can have when I want it.

On the train home, he gave me the other half of what I need -- cuddling and service. And then the next morning I woke up and got the pampering I deserve. We put his foot-worshiping skills to good use once again, among other things. He knows I'm quite pleased with him so far.

So yes, I'm a little smug and happy today. People ask me how my weekend was, and I can't answer them honestly -- I can't exactly say, "Well, I spanked four or five boys this weekend, and really beat the hell out of one of them, got my feet worshiped, used my little pet as much as I wanted, and generally feel quite rested, thank you." But when I say, "my weekend was quite nice, thanks for asking", all of that contentment is definitely in my voice.

Foot worship

I got my feet worshiped by my little pet last night. He cooked me dinner, bathed my feet carefully in hot water, and then as a reward I let him worship. It turns out this is a particular strength for him -- it was one of the best foot-worshiping sessions I've ever had. I was close to orgasm by the end of it, seriously. He'll be doing that a lot more often.

And now back to reality - work. Although I'm working towards being 'my own boss' someday, I'm still somewhat at the mercy of academic forces above me. My current higher-up is a woman, a woman who really does not know how to wield power effectively and fairly. She's too critical at the wrong moments and she leaves the running of the office solely in my hands, but fails to appreciate just how often I protect her back for her. You should never have someone do your job for you, and then get snippy with them about the work they're doing. It is a dangerous combination.

I had a meeting with a mentor of mine yesterday, though, and he reminded me that I work only for myself, for the pleasure of financing my artistic work. Remembering that makes it easier to let the little stupid things go. I have a lot in the works, and if I just keep focused on that, I should move forward fairly steadily over the next two years. This job will eventually be a distant memory.

Meanwhile, I'll be taking my little pet on his little pink leash to a play party this weekend, and that should be fun. I love the happy look he gets on his face when I snap that leash on.

all work and no play

I've had an unusually high amount of work the past few days, and I spent the weekend holed up in my apartment, writing an assignment for grad school.

I didn't even get to play with my pet -- he came to see me for dinner, but I had to send him home at midnight so I could get some sleep and keep working the next day. Of course, being denied the ability to play made playing the only thing I could think about. I've turned in my assignment, I've got a bag packed, and I'm off to see my little pet tonight.

The assignment was difficult for me -- it is the first time I've tried to bring my sexuality so much into my creative writing. I dredged up memories and experiences from years ago, in an effort to also address and deal with things that happened to me recently. I went back and wrote about the first time a submissive boy broke my heart. That moment reverberates off the other disappointments I've had since then, creating a little echo chamber of discomfort that isn't easy to live with. I felt a little bit like some parts of my psyche were melting down. I felt emotionally disheveled.

In the end, though, I think this is good for my writing. I remember once, when I was a college student, I worked for a poet as her personal assistant. She had this poem that seemed to be about a relationship ending between two people, but she told me that the energy behind the poem came from a miscarriage she'd had, not a breakup. And I found that so fascinating, that you can take one kind of pain and make it over into something more universal. Not everyone can relate to that moment when a submissive boy withdraws his consent to you, leaving you feeling powerless and stripped. But people can relate to other kinds of loss, so it is a matter of translating that experience into something more recognizable to the world at large.

The work is turned in, however, and now I get to play tonight.

The New York Post Hates Dominant Women

Every so often, the New York Post just can't help itself: they get obsessed with writing about us weird, kinky types. And predictably, they write about Dominant women doing something to submissive men because -- shock! horror! -- this is the most subversive thing they can think of.

There were two stories last week: here and here. Predictably, both are from male perspectives, two men who pursue Dominant women and are -- of course! -- married. One was that college professor who was nearly strangled to death by a pro-domme, and now of course everyone knows who he is, so he swears up and down that he's giving it up for good (yeah, right). The other is a UWS "professional" who conceals his desires from his wife and has a "relationship" with a Domme. I feel really bad for that Domme -- she's getting the short end of the stick, and if you happen upon this blog and read this, honey, let me tell you something: you really don't have to settle for some closeted married dude. There are plenty of single, submissive men, too. You have your choice of them, not the other way around. You should never take one who is anything less than what you want.

The writers of both articles -- Samuel Goldsmith and Joshua Rhett Miller -- seem absolutely unconcerned about including Female perspectives on this lifestyle in their articles, and almost exclusively quote men. This is completely typical of the Post -- they are usually creaming their pants to write smack-talk about Dommes, either professionals or not. Almost as if Sam and Josh have an axe to grind, you know? What happened, boys -- Mommy didn't spank you enough?

Domme as leitmotif

I'm taking a literature seminar this semester, and right now, we're reading Bruno Schulz's Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass. Schulz is a Polish writer, a bit of a surrealist, who converted the strange and fantastical symbols of his own personal mythology into a couple of really beautiful books. Schulz was also a devoted reader of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, the man who wrote Venus in Furs (and from whom the term 'masochist' derives). It is clear when you read Schulz that he, like Sacher-Masoch had a fascination with Dominant women -- they are one of his primary leitmotifs, in the figure of Adela, a recurring character, among many others. Anyway, I'm reading along at the beginning, and I come to this passage. In it, the narrator is reading passages from a spiritual masterpiece he calls only The Book:

"A certain Mme Magda Wang, tethered by the train of her gown, declared above a modest decolletage that she frowned on manly determination and principles and that she specialized in breaking the strongest characters. (Here, with a slight kick of her small foot, she rearranged the train of her gown.) There were methods, she continued through clenched teeth, infallible methods she could not divulge here, referring the readers to her memoirs, entitled The Purple Days (published by the Institute of Anthroposophy in Budapest); in them, she listed the results of her experiences in the Colonies with the "dressage" of men (this last word underlined by an ironic flash of her eyes). And strangely enough, that slovenly and loose-tongued lady seemed to be sure of the approval of those about whom she spoke so cynically, and in the peculiar confusion of her words one felt that their meaning had mysteriously shifted and that we had moved to a totally different sphere, where the compass worked back to front.

This was the last page of The Book, and it left me peculiarly dizzy, filled with a mixture of longing and excitement."

Sounds like a Domme to me! My homework just got a lot more fun.

Here's a sample of the artwork Bruno Schulz included with his work:

Who are you, anyway?

The least attractive thing that submissive guys do when they're trying to attract a Mistress is the one-line email that says something like, "I live near you and I want to talk."

There are variations on this email: "I read your profile/blog and I think we should talk," or "I really like what you have to say and I think we should talk", etc.

But basically this message is extremely arrogant. I call this the "I want this, so you have to give it to me" school of submissive men. Just because they sit around in their apartments jerking off to the idea of Dominant women somehow means that when they encounter a real one, we should be obligated to deal with them.

Dealing with men who believe their desires are the most important thing in the world and should be addressed right away is something that I have to put up with every day -- in my vanilla life. I absolutely do not tolerate it behind the closed doors of my private, Domme-centric world. The fact is, I don't care. I just don't care. As I say so often to men, only your mother thinks you're that special.

Who are you, anyway? One line about how you want to talk to me tells me absolutely nothing about whether or not I want to talk to you. Do you have skills I'm particularly in need of? (Like, can you scrub a toilet so clean it makes the angels sigh?) Do you connect with my writing in some particular and interesting way, and can you talk about that intelligently? (Cannot stress that one enough.) Have you fully confronted your own selfish male upbringing, systematically learning how to be selfless, emotionally open, communicative, nurturing, sweet-natured and docile? Because that's what I want. And I really don't care that much (read: at all) about what you want.

Weekend Update

After a very satisfying weekend -- including an overnight visit with a very special little pet, you know who you are -- I still have another day off tomorrow. I should really be getting more work done, but I admit, I've been spoiling myself this weekend. I needed a few days off.

I had an afternoon coffee with the Headmistress of ClubFemNYC, the organization to which I belong. She's such an amazingly gracious and wonderful person. I felt instantly at home with her, from the moment we met. Sometimes people and situations come into your life at precisely the perfect moment, and that's how I'm feeling about ClubFem. I've spent too long looking for the right boy online, when the online environment is a place that breeds the kind of bad behavior I want to avoid. I've never been more clear in my life about what I want than I am these days -- and never so determined not to compromise that, or myself. ClubFem absolutely provides the right support system for that. I had almost forgotten how vital it is to socialize with other Dommes -- they remind me of what I am, and how important it is to safeguard and honor that.

Anyway, a few hours with the Headmistress, and I was feeling very good about where I am right now, very clear-headed and happy. We talked about our plans for a training academy for submissives who want to learn how to really attract the right mistress, and I agreed to take on some of the logistical organizing of this -- I'll be really curious to see if any boys have what it takes to make it through. If they do, they'll have the approval of at least five formidable Dominant women, and I'm sure our references will certainly count for something. We each will take turns training one boy, he'll get a different Domme each month to teach him skills he needs to learn. I don't know -- if a guy approached me and he had the approval of five Dommes and had been trained in almost everything I liked, that would really make me sit up and take notice. That's like a dream-submissive right there.