Greetings little ones,
Well Mistress has been keeping VERY busy, clients, clients and more clients. What a delightful change to have a house slave all for my very own.
My house slave did my bidding, from morning until evening he was there just for my use. I clean and pamper ME. My feet were tended in the most delicious manner imaginable, peppermint foot balm, massaged and pampered. Oh my how delightful it is to have someone dedicated to MY pleasure.
Chores were done without fuss. Supervision was a joy not a chore for me. Watching my house slave clean and scrub on her knees, with the same level of dedication he showed to massaging my feet as to cleaning the floor. I was so proud and pleased with the house slaves focus.
EVERYTHING was about making my life easier. When I had another client, my house slave waited bound in the corn of my studio. Not struggling, not moaning, not seeking my attention. He showed that he honoured the process, respected the needs of my other client and most importantly respected ME.
Having a house slave to do my bidding is a truly wonderful treat. I do hope there are more dedicated slaves out there for me to use, tease and appreciate
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Monday, 15 October 2007
A Story for you entertainment
She watched his every move. “Don't you tire of controlling everything?” she asked him in a matter-of-fact manner. “Doesn't it exhaust you trying to keep things organized? Wouldn't you like to just let go of it for a while?" Her eyes pierced his own for the single moment he dared look into them.
"Give yourself to me," she half-demanded, half-requested. Holding his hand more tightly, she drew herself closer to him. He watched her breasts seem to poke up from her leather bra and felt her long nails dug into his palm. "Would you like to be my boy?" she asked and sat silently, demanding that he reply.
There was no sense to this, he realized, yet he felt his chin move up and down in affirmative response. For the first time since he could remember, no thoughts raced through his mind yet it wasn't empty. He felt her fingers dig in harder as she stood and guided him behind her.
She led him down a hallway and into a darkened room. Releasing his hand once they were inside, he heard a door latch soundly. The darkness unnerved him and stoked the fear he harbored of being unable to categorize his surroundings and make sense of what his world had just become. Her voice interrupted his fear.
"Stand absolutely still and be silent," she whispered loudly from her throat.
The sound of her stiletto heels against the tile floor pierced his ears. Each step brought her closer and his body's warmth seemed to increase proportionally to her nearness. His trembling legs threatened once or twice to cease supporting his weight as he felt and heard her approach. The buzzing in his ears rose and his hands hung without function from his arms.
"Relax," she cooed, "it's not what you think you want, but it's what you need."
Her fingers touched his chest and her voice changed tenor. "Unbutton your shirt," she commanded, "and drop it on the floor."
For a moment, he hesitated. But there was something in her voice that made him want to remove it and something inside his own head that seemed to force him to perform as she instructed. As the white shirt fell silently to the tile floor, he studied his body to determine if he was now cold. He should be, he figured, because the outdoor temperature was low enough that …
"Shoes!" she instructed. "Take off your shoes and socks and stand silently!"
"NOW!" she ordered and without warning sent a single stroke of an unseen cane across his left cheek.
The shock of being struck overwhelmed him. Unable to think any longer, he simply stood shirtless in a dark room. All his body realized, even without his mind's analysis that it didn't want to feel that cane again.
He scampered to remove his shoes and socks and threw them halfway across the room. Anything to comply - anything to avoid that evil cane! Perhaps he heard a small giggle or perhaps it was his ears again unable to hear clearly. It didn't matter. Only the cane mattered.
"Pants are next," she continued without abatement. "Remove them, throw them on the floor."
Without giving him an opportunity to comply, she struck his right cheek soundly. He scrambled to comply and ripped at his belt, button and zipper to yank his pants to his ankles. Struggling to pull them off in the utter darkness, he lost his balance and found himself plopped indecorously on the tile floor with his jeans tied hopelessly around his feet.
"On your knees," she ordered. When he managed to plant his hands on the floor and steady himself to his knees, she planted two even blows - one on each of his now-searing ass cheeks.
His throat emitted an indiscernible groan as he flopped onto the tile and tore his jeans from his ankles. Forcing himself upright as quickly as possible, he tossed his jeans without direction and tried to comfort his aching ass with his hands.
He felt her approach him almost at the same time he inhaled the aroma of her perfume. The fragrance that filled his nostrils and his brain excluded all thought processes. He couldn't think because her bouquet saturated him completely. When her fingers touched his naked chest, he literally gasped for air.
She chuckled and planted cold metal against his waist. Unable to hear or see or think, he stood silently and tried to force his body to understand her actions. The metal pressed lower and lower and within moments his underpants had been cut and removed. Scissors or knife, he wondered briefly, until he realized that he was absolutely naked, cut off from the comfort of his carefully developed reality and at the mercy of this woman whose last name he didn’t even know.
It was at the moment of that combination of understandings that he began to cry.
He didn't just whimper; instead, he felt great gushes of sobbing emerge from his eyes but begin down deep in his gut. The years of concentration, organization, order and total absorption in his work fell from his soul like a snake sheds his skin to begin anew.
His skin burned but the sobbing continued unabated until she closed in and licked his tears with her tender lips. As she drank in his fear and grief, he was comforted by her care and concern. He relished in it and allowed himself to cede that piece of him to her tongue.
It was then that she took his cock in her gloved hand and pulled it toward her, and along with it, him. Struggling to match her step, she led him around the darkened room in a macabre sort of dance. She strode faster and he semi-galloped to keep up with her. When she turned, his cock turned first and his body followed. The march forced him the length and width of the room and just for good measure, she strutted him around its perimeter until she finally yielded his organ.
An unseen rod greeted his ass once more and he pressed his hands to his cheeks as if to ward off any further blows.
"At attention!" she hissed into his ear. The overpowering memory of the rod drove his hands to his sides, his chest forward, his chin up and his legs straight.
Pinching both of his nipples with her fingertips, she pulled up and straightened him even further. His mind was on fire and his body seemed to belong to someone else. Nothing made sense, nothing fit into anything he could have imagined.
"It's late," she commented, "and I'm tired."
He felt a surge of energy invade his body and depart just as quickly.
"And I'm hungry," she finished.
He felt her fingertips release his nipples then rub them to drive a merciless searing pain throughout his chest. Her fingers and palms rubbed against his chest, back, waist, hips, groin and neck. She wiped his eyes, presumably with his underpants, and then dabbed carefully at his face to remove any trace of sweat.
"Get dressed," she ordered and dropped his pants, shirt, socks and shoes at his feet. "I'll see you at the table."
The clicking of her heels on the tile floor grew fainter and a bright flash of light told him that a door had been opened and then closed. With no one providing orders, he was at a loss as to what to do next, but soon, little by little, his mind emerged and reminded him that he was naked. Dressing quickly, he felt his way toward the door, opened it, trekked the hallway and rediscovered her sitting waiting for him.
For the first time, he understood exactly what he wanted and needed. He nodded and seeing him, she smiled broadly at the sense of calm he exuded.
"Give yourself to me," she half-demanded, half-requested. Holding his hand more tightly, she drew herself closer to him. He watched her breasts seem to poke up from her leather bra and felt her long nails dug into his palm. "Would you like to be my boy?" she asked and sat silently, demanding that he reply.
There was no sense to this, he realized, yet he felt his chin move up and down in affirmative response. For the first time since he could remember, no thoughts raced through his mind yet it wasn't empty. He felt her fingers dig in harder as she stood and guided him behind her.
She led him down a hallway and into a darkened room. Releasing his hand once they were inside, he heard a door latch soundly. The darkness unnerved him and stoked the fear he harbored of being unable to categorize his surroundings and make sense of what his world had just become. Her voice interrupted his fear.
"Stand absolutely still and be silent," she whispered loudly from her throat.
The sound of her stiletto heels against the tile floor pierced his ears. Each step brought her closer and his body's warmth seemed to increase proportionally to her nearness. His trembling legs threatened once or twice to cease supporting his weight as he felt and heard her approach. The buzzing in his ears rose and his hands hung without function from his arms.
"Relax," she cooed, "it's not what you think you want, but it's what you need."
Her fingers touched his chest and her voice changed tenor. "Unbutton your shirt," she commanded, "and drop it on the floor."
For a moment, he hesitated. But there was something in her voice that made him want to remove it and something inside his own head that seemed to force him to perform as she instructed. As the white shirt fell silently to the tile floor, he studied his body to determine if he was now cold. He should be, he figured, because the outdoor temperature was low enough that …
"Shoes!" she instructed. "Take off your shoes and socks and stand silently!"
"NOW!" she ordered and without warning sent a single stroke of an unseen cane across his left cheek.
The shock of being struck overwhelmed him. Unable to think any longer, he simply stood shirtless in a dark room. All his body realized, even without his mind's analysis that it didn't want to feel that cane again.
He scampered to remove his shoes and socks and threw them halfway across the room. Anything to comply - anything to avoid that evil cane! Perhaps he heard a small giggle or perhaps it was his ears again unable to hear clearly. It didn't matter. Only the cane mattered.
"Pants are next," she continued without abatement. "Remove them, throw them on the floor."
Without giving him an opportunity to comply, she struck his right cheek soundly. He scrambled to comply and ripped at his belt, button and zipper to yank his pants to his ankles. Struggling to pull them off in the utter darkness, he lost his balance and found himself plopped indecorously on the tile floor with his jeans tied hopelessly around his feet.
"On your knees," she ordered. When he managed to plant his hands on the floor and steady himself to his knees, she planted two even blows - one on each of his now-searing ass cheeks.
His throat emitted an indiscernible groan as he flopped onto the tile and tore his jeans from his ankles. Forcing himself upright as quickly as possible, he tossed his jeans without direction and tried to comfort his aching ass with his hands.
He felt her approach him almost at the same time he inhaled the aroma of her perfume. The fragrance that filled his nostrils and his brain excluded all thought processes. He couldn't think because her bouquet saturated him completely. When her fingers touched his naked chest, he literally gasped for air.
She chuckled and planted cold metal against his waist. Unable to hear or see or think, he stood silently and tried to force his body to understand her actions. The metal pressed lower and lower and within moments his underpants had been cut and removed. Scissors or knife, he wondered briefly, until he realized that he was absolutely naked, cut off from the comfort of his carefully developed reality and at the mercy of this woman whose last name he didn’t even know.
It was at the moment of that combination of understandings that he began to cry.
He didn't just whimper; instead, he felt great gushes of sobbing emerge from his eyes but begin down deep in his gut. The years of concentration, organization, order and total absorption in his work fell from his soul like a snake sheds his skin to begin anew.
His skin burned but the sobbing continued unabated until she closed in and licked his tears with her tender lips. As she drank in his fear and grief, he was comforted by her care and concern. He relished in it and allowed himself to cede that piece of him to her tongue.
It was then that she took his cock in her gloved hand and pulled it toward her, and along with it, him. Struggling to match her step, she led him around the darkened room in a macabre sort of dance. She strode faster and he semi-galloped to keep up with her. When she turned, his cock turned first and his body followed. The march forced him the length and width of the room and just for good measure, she strutted him around its perimeter until she finally yielded his organ.
An unseen rod greeted his ass once more and he pressed his hands to his cheeks as if to ward off any further blows.
"At attention!" she hissed into his ear. The overpowering memory of the rod drove his hands to his sides, his chest forward, his chin up and his legs straight.
Pinching both of his nipples with her fingertips, she pulled up and straightened him even further. His mind was on fire and his body seemed to belong to someone else. Nothing made sense, nothing fit into anything he could have imagined.
"It's late," she commented, "and I'm tired."
He felt a surge of energy invade his body and depart just as quickly.
"And I'm hungry," she finished.
He felt her fingertips release his nipples then rub them to drive a merciless searing pain throughout his chest. Her fingers and palms rubbed against his chest, back, waist, hips, groin and neck. She wiped his eyes, presumably with his underpants, and then dabbed carefully at his face to remove any trace of sweat.
"Get dressed," she ordered and dropped his pants, shirt, socks and shoes at his feet. "I'll see you at the table."
The clicking of her heels on the tile floor grew fainter and a bright flash of light told him that a door had been opened and then closed. With no one providing orders, he was at a loss as to what to do next, but soon, little by little, his mind emerged and reminded him that he was naked. Dressing quickly, he felt his way toward the door, opened it, trekked the hallway and rediscovered her sitting waiting for him.
For the first time, he understood exactly what he wanted and needed. He nodded and seeing him, she smiled broadly at the sense of calm he exuded.
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
What makes a good Mistress?
I have been asked recently to work with several dominant women, they wanted to learn how to be a Mistress to their partners. The following are points that I think are important qualities for a Mistress.
Mistress’s vary in attitude, colour, shape, philosophical beliefs, style, motivations and passions, however most ladies I have meet who deserve the title Mistress all share the following characteristics.
Six Attributes Every Mistress Needs" include:
Self-confidence. "What a person thinks of herself contributes to the image others have of her.... Gaining self-confidence ... takes self-examination and a clear appraisal of oneself...."
Trustworthiness. "The frequency with which the word trust appears in the Ds community's conversation is no accident.... There isn't a single Ds activity that doesn't depend upon and benefit from mutual trust."
Consistency. "How the Mistress acts sets the example and teaches the slave how to be.... For a slave to submit there has to be a framework in which he can 'know the rules' and develop dependable expectations."
Responsibility. It's the slave's responsibility to serve. The Mistress is responsible for the relationship.
Acceptance. ".... until you accept yourself as who you are, there will be a struggle that will make true realization of your Self difficult, if not impossible."
Expertise. "Experience is the best teacher and good technique is crucial to success...."
Mistress’s vary in attitude, colour, shape, philosophical beliefs, style, motivations and passions, however most ladies I have meet who deserve the title Mistress all share the following characteristics.
Six Attributes Every Mistress Needs" include:
Self-confidence. "What a person thinks of herself contributes to the image others have of her.... Gaining self-confidence ... takes self-examination and a clear appraisal of oneself...."
Trustworthiness. "The frequency with which the word trust appears in the Ds community's conversation is no accident.... There isn't a single Ds activity that doesn't depend upon and benefit from mutual trust."
Consistency. "How the Mistress acts sets the example and teaches the slave how to be.... For a slave to submit there has to be a framework in which he can 'know the rules' and develop dependable expectations."
Responsibility. It's the slave's responsibility to serve. The Mistress is responsible for the relationship.
Acceptance. ".... until you accept yourself as who you are, there will be a struggle that will make true realization of your Self difficult, if not impossible."
Expertise. "Experience is the best teacher and good technique is crucial to success...."
Saturday, 29 September 2007
taking him further
Greetings little ones,
The other day, I had a beautiful bondage session with a quite experienced subbie boy. He was eager to test and stretch his limits and it was my pleasure to assist him in that quest.
The boy had experienced many forms of bondage, ropes and chains where familiar to him, he had not however, ever experienced mummification. Many find the form of bondage very challenging. Panic attacks can happen if the sub is not monitored with care.
Once mummified, the boy slipped down into sub space and found that amazing place of peace and calm. For a time he was able to 'float' in that space, but he then began to experience anxiety. He began to sweat and found his breathing had become shallow. Soft words and reassuring hands helped him beat the panic demons and find his inner calm.
He went far further than he thought he could. He was gently push past what he thought was his limit. At the end of the session, he lay curled by my feet relaxed and deeply peaceful. It is a beautiful thing to see. I was so proud of him. He trusted enough to go beyond!
THAT is true submission.
The other day, I had a beautiful bondage session with a quite experienced subbie boy. He was eager to test and stretch his limits and it was my pleasure to assist him in that quest.
The boy had experienced many forms of bondage, ropes and chains where familiar to him, he had not however, ever experienced mummification. Many find the form of bondage very challenging. Panic attacks can happen if the sub is not monitored with care.
Once mummified, the boy slipped down into sub space and found that amazing place of peace and calm. For a time he was able to 'float' in that space, but he then began to experience anxiety. He began to sweat and found his breathing had become shallow. Soft words and reassuring hands helped him beat the panic demons and find his inner calm.
He went far further than he thought he could. He was gently push past what he thought was his limit. At the end of the session, he lay curled by my feet relaxed and deeply peaceful. It is a beautiful thing to see. I was so proud of him. He trusted enough to go beyond!
THAT is true submission.
Monday, 17 September 2007
Mistress NOT mind reader
Greetings little ones
Are you able to articulate what it is that you desire? Do you know what it is that turns you on? What is it that excites you? What is YOUR fetish?
One of the wonderful things about this world of ours little ones, is that EVERYONE is different. We all have different likes and dislikes. What turns YOU on might be a massive turn OFF for someone else. When you visit a Mistress or when you are exploring with a new partner, it is VITAL that you feel comfortable enough to really be honest about what it is that you enjoy, AND equally important it is important to say what is a turn OFF.
A Mistress may have insights, a Mistress can tell much from a clients behaviour, BUT I know of none who are mind readers. Speak up and be honest with your Mistress. This is YOUR responsibility, if she doesn't know she can't act. Help her to know you better. She will gain more from a session if you do as she will know how best to push and punish you. You will gain more. and, you will both be happier.
Are you able to articulate what it is that you desire? Do you know what it is that turns you on? What is it that excites you? What is YOUR fetish?
One of the wonderful things about this world of ours little ones, is that EVERYONE is different. We all have different likes and dislikes. What turns YOU on might be a massive turn OFF for someone else. When you visit a Mistress or when you are exploring with a new partner, it is VITAL that you feel comfortable enough to really be honest about what it is that you enjoy, AND equally important it is important to say what is a turn OFF.
A Mistress may have insights, a Mistress can tell much from a clients behaviour, BUT I know of none who are mind readers. Speak up and be honest with your Mistress. This is YOUR responsibility, if she doesn't know she can't act. Help her to know you better. She will gain more from a session if you do as she will know how best to push and punish you. You will gain more. and, you will both be happier.
Monday, 10 September 2007
An honour
Recently I had the great honour of giving an instructional session to a Dominant lady who was totally new to the lifestyle and her boy. It was a genuine privilege and pleasure to work with this couple. The respect that they showed each other as they entered into what was a unusual experience for tribute to them both. He was an experienced submissive and pain slut, she was new to the lifestyle, although clearly NOT new to being a powerful and in control young lady.
To say that she took to it like “a duck to water”, would be an under statement. There were many aspects to this encounter that pleased me enormously.
Firstly, here was a young lady who was new to the lifestyle, but who was willing (if not eager) to embrace all that it can offer her. She showed great courage in her willingness to say, those VERY scary words, “I don’t know, please teach me.” That showed wonderful maturity and self awareness. NOT everyone who wants to enter this lifestyle is so wise.
The damage that can be caused by lack of knowledge is immense. Realizing that, this lovely lady sort out a teacher, placed herself in a position of vulnerability and asked for help. I admire and respect her greatly for doing so.
As we slowly worked though some basic aspects of bondage and discipline, she and her partner asked intelligent questions. She tried things out. Tested her limits and frankly, she blossomed!!
It was such a delight to see the GRIN that she wore as she left my studio to take her boy home to practice on.
More about this wonderful session later
Be good little ones
Mistress Strict
To say that she took to it like “a duck to water”, would be an under statement. There were many aspects to this encounter that pleased me enormously.
Firstly, here was a young lady who was new to the lifestyle, but who was willing (if not eager) to embrace all that it can offer her. She showed great courage in her willingness to say, those VERY scary words, “I don’t know, please teach me.” That showed wonderful maturity and self awareness. NOT everyone who wants to enter this lifestyle is so wise.
The damage that can be caused by lack of knowledge is immense. Realizing that, this lovely lady sort out a teacher, placed herself in a position of vulnerability and asked for help. I admire and respect her greatly for doing so.
As we slowly worked though some basic aspects of bondage and discipline, she and her partner asked intelligent questions. She tried things out. Tested her limits and frankly, she blossomed!!
It was such a delight to see the GRIN that she wore as she left my studio to take her boy home to practice on.
More about this wonderful session later
Be good little ones
Mistress Strict
Monday, 3 September 2007
the need for advice!!
Goodness me!!!
I had not realized how many of you out there were longing to ask Mistress a question. How many of you needed the advice of an experienced and approachable Domme.
I can’t possibly reply on line to ALL the emails you have sent, but I will try to pick some common themes and address them in future posts.
Please don’t hesitate to contact me, I am happy to assist where I can, BUT, little ones, IF you are rude, if your question lacks appropriate thought and/or if you fail to have the common courtesy to address me by name and sign your email then DON’T expect a reply. YOUR email will join the many others in the trash folder.
Mistress Stirct
I had not realized how many of you out there were longing to ask Mistress a question. How many of you needed the advice of an experienced and approachable Domme.
I can’t possibly reply on line to ALL the emails you have sent, but I will try to pick some common themes and address them in future posts.
Please don’t hesitate to contact me, I am happy to assist where I can, BUT, little ones, IF you are rude, if your question lacks appropriate thought and/or if you fail to have the common courtesy to address me by name and sign your email then DON’T expect a reply. YOUR email will join the many others in the trash folder.
Mistress Stirct
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