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Guest Podcast with Off The Cuffs: Femdommery

A few months ago I was honored enough to be dubbed Dr. Doom with Tits by the members of the Off The Cuffs podcast. They're such an animated and laid back group and I can't wait to speak with them more! Dick Wound, Kate Smash, and Max are definitely worth a regular listen when you can. In this episode we talked about:

• Femdom antics
• Geeky stuff (Comics)
• Male chastity
• My nail obsession and fetish
• Sadism

Better late than never, so please give it a listen!

Blue light special

I was just about to call it quits on our #Girlsnight when a soft blue light shone before us down the bustling alleyway. I held his hand softly as we approached the window.

His perfect green eyes danced with glee.

"This is the one Josy," I whispered as I put my hand on the doorknob to push open. He just nodded obediently, silent with anticipation. I knew to get him into the sissy mindset before any play it was best to refer to him as his sissy name.

He had been making so many big decisions on his own and processing so much during our forced time apart. I knew it had been wearing on him. He had managed to meet me in Amsterdam, I figured not only was it our anniversary, I also knew this was a huge fantasy of his and I wanted him to remember who was in control. I wanted him to switch off and just do as told. A mindless toy.

'I don't do fantasies, I make plans' I could hear myself telling him two years ago to the day. I really believed that. Anything I thought was hot, I sought out to do, not fantasize about. And that always made it that much sweeter for me.

So when I walked into the tiny, dingy, dim lit glassed room with my pantied, sissy fiance whom I'd not seen for months, on our two year anniversary, with an eye-catching and slightly dominant TV I couldn't resist.

"How much for him to suck you?" I asked the prostitute as if I'd done this a hundred times.

She looked him up and down slowly. It seemed she liked what she saw.

"It'll be $100 for him."

She turned her heavily made up eyes to me and lingered. Her breasts heaved beneath her black, tight corset top.

"Extra 50 if you wanna join."

I instructed my girl to go get cash. He asked how much he should get and I replied, "You know how much," and off he went into the noisy streets of Amsterdam. It didn't truly hit me that we were about to partake in the world's oldest profession until further reflection. It was history. It was novel. And it was going to be fucking hot.

In the six minutes he was gone to retrieve currency Melinda and I talked about politics, the locals, our desires and our dynamic. Like most she was fascinated by the Femdom concept and asked a few questions.

And he just does what you say?
He likes pain? Humiliation?
Do you fuck him?

All good questions that I answered politely and when my toy came back, wide eyed, and then he was ordered to strip by Melinda. He did as told and then I stepped in admiring my view. I placed my hand out waiting as I slid the belt from his waist and through the loops with ease and held it tightly.

"Get down on your knees and start sucking slut," I ordered as I shoved his head in her general groin area.

The professional reached for a condom and waited by rock hard. It was an cock that demanded attention. My good sissy did as told and gobbled up the stranger in her little mouth like it was her favorite cock. She moaned deeply thrusting her tight little ass in the air.

I slapped the target with her own belt and degraded her verbally.

"Look at my slut moaning for cock," I said.

Her eyes looked up at me, any hint of innocence leaving them in a blink and then they bulged with reflex.

"Suck deeper. Open your mouth wider!" Melinda shouted.

I watched Josy struggle to accommodate more meat so I grabbed her by the hair and aided aggressively.

"Don't disappoint Mistress," I leaned in and whispered, a handful of her locks still intertwined in my fingers.

"Suck this cock like you want it. Show me you need it," I said feeling my own panties starting to moisten.

Josy, like the good girl she was, bowed lower and took more of the large throbbing member in her mouth. I reached for the woman's balls and held them in my hand and used it to stroke upward to give Josy more.

She gagged as her head was held in place. Melinda threw her badly wigged head back and laughed a throaty laugh. Then I reached back and started spanking Josy's ass until it was my favorite shade of red. I could feel my slut's tiny cock bounce against the leather bed. It was at more than full attention. I slapped it down and then again when it bounced back in an instant. She didn't flinch like she normally did, her mouth was full, her clitty was hard and she was deep in sub space. It was written all over her glazed eyes.

"You're not going to be using this," I teased as I ordered her to sit up.

I looked her in the eyes as I reached down to remove my soaking panties.

"Now Mistress is going to use this cock."

Josy stared at me with a gaped mouth and doe eyes and simply said, 'Yes, Mistress.'

This delighted the cross dresser who offered me a place on the bed. I stuffed my panties in my future sissy husband's mouth and placed my head under his pathetic penis. She wasted no time spreading me open and getting to work.

Her finger work wasn't refined but it got the job done causing me to twitch and get wetter. She sniffed the air and looked at Josy....

"I'm going to fuck your girlfriend," she said bluntly.

"I'm going to fuck her good. Are you ready?"

She asked this without really waiting for either of us and as she pressed her fat, thick headed, cock against my hole. It was all I could do to not explode. I was wet and she was putting my ankles above my head. Josy was directed to hold each one in place and was holding on with determination.

I imagine she was steadying herself in the surreal scene that was taking place before her.

This gave our lady of the evening a great view, two free hands, and placed me in a completely vaginally exposed position. I had three hands on my breasts and cock in mouth, and one in my pussy. This encounter was feeding my inner whore on so many levels it didn't take much for me to start squealing and struggling to hold my own personal ecstasy back.

"You see that? She like me FUCKING her," I heard her broken English with my eyes closed and a hard pounding to my pussy followed.

I began jeering Josy telling her what a naughty girl she was. 

"You're so disgusting Josy, you slut. You won't be fucking me like this."

Melinda spit on my sissy's chest at random intervals while fucking me hard and deep just keeping me on the edge. I could feel tiny sissy clit still flexing in my mouth so I changed back to the original position with Josy on her knees. She spit out the panties and resumed greedily sucking.

This time I ordered her, "No coming. No coming!' 

"No coming for you stupid," the sex worker chimed in as her hands slid behind Josy's cock and balls for a fondle.

I watched my sissy show me just how turned she was and how dirty she'd be for me. I could tell she was enjoying herself and wanting to pleasure me by just offering herself for use. The consensual desperation that was begging behind her eyes was dazzling and I spanked her harder until my hand stung. Melinda copied me on the other cheek.

I had a feeling that the prostitutes in Amsterdam weren't use to having an interracial, Femdom, sissy based intercontinental couple walk through their doors as I watched genuine excitement  and arousal on the professional's face. I let the two of them continue on their own for a few minutes while I got redressed.

"Have you had enough cock?" I pulled Josy's face from the still hard bobbing knob. She nodded slowly. I could tell she wasn't sure if she had either but I pulled her off anyway.

"You've had enough, now say thank you," I ordered.

Josy complied just as I added, "And kiss the cock." She did this graciously as well.

We washed our hands and my Josy girl put back on his panties, then the rest of his garments. We were glowing with an aura of sexual conquest.

Just as we were about to leave Melinda looked in a mirror and re-applied her make-up getting ready for her next customer.

"Very nice pussy. Almost make me come," she said to no one in particular very matter of factly.

"Yes, it is a nice pussy," Josy shyly agreed as we smiled and left.

I don't think I'll ever look at a blue neon light the same.

Beat around the bush

I met a gardener and he's the first person I've found who can cure my black thumb.

The Gardener came into my life last year by way of a crossdresser's munch. Puppy and I attended and weren't expecting much. But, I did talk with The Gardener most of the evening. He invited the two of us to a kinky, sexy hotel party and I'm never one to turn down a good time. It wasn't a good time. Not through any fault of his own, it just wasn't what we expected. However, this didn't deter me from pursuing a friendship with him.

Fast forward to a few months ago when we had our first one-on-one dinner that he cooked for me, fully dressed from head to heels at my request. One thing lead to another and before you knew it, my phone was showing the time as 3am. I've found if I can chat with you for more than 60 minutes and it doesn't feel forced, that's a good sign, so we kept talking. And kept talking. Each day we'd continue one of the previous late night's conversation and delve into a world of new topics afterward. The more he talked the more I listened. The more interested he was in what I had to say, the more interesting I felt. Every crazy story I had, he had a rival one of his own.

Intellectual foreplay at its finest.

In this time admittedly, things have moved fast for us. More fast than I think anyone expected. A big part of this is due to the fact that we live within a few miles radius of each other and keep a similar (non)sleeping schedule. Late night chatting became lunches, lunches turned to titillating flirting and that grew into much more. The Gardner is good at his craft. He is an actual self-taught gardener, polyamorous crossdresser, who is a great home chef,  who can be a complete goofball when he remembers to relax (which takes some coaxing). He's a musician (i.e. good with his hands), a father, a self-proclaimed sensualist and I'm finding out so much more. Each layer I peel back reveals just a peek at the one underneath it. It's a beehive of vulnerability and genuineness that has been a relief to be a sharer of.

I walked into his home for dinner a few months ago not expecting anything at all. Neither of us did. But as all gardeners know they shouldn't let the grass grow under their feet and we decided despite our best efforts to just give in and turn over a new leaf together.

It wasn't the most convenient of times after Puppy left but something that started out small bloomed into something much bigger and I can't wait to see what the harvest is like. Would I have chosen to start dating The Gardner this way? Probably not. Is it a bit of a challenge navigating a new relationship while just starting an international long distance engagement? Absolutely. Have I been honest with my other partners along the way about my new experience. Of course. If I could change it would I? I think philosopher Francis Bacon put it best...

"Gardening is the purest of human pleasures."

Was it ever really a question?

Puppy will soon be under a different type of lock and key. He has no idea what he's signed up for. #ISaidYes

Loving you makes be a bad Mistress

I've learned I love him too much...if there is such a thing.

When he's around I can't think entirely straight. My heart flip flops, my focus zeros in on him in classic tunnel vision and it's all I can do to keep my wits about me.

Oh I can choke him until he's blue.
Promptly scold him when he's disobedient.
Watch his lips stain with blood after I slap him.
Punish him for indiscretions.
I can even piss on him until he's soppy with every drop of me while I laugh in his face.

But I couldn't send him away.

It was for his own good and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. And in return it's made me feel like the world's worst Mistress.

The one time he really needed my guidance, my firm hand, my dominant mind, and solid direction, I wasn't there for him.

I couldn't be his Mistress.

I got swept up in love.

Normally that wouldn't be said in the tone I'm trying to convey but this time, loving someone too much has made me a bad Mistress. It made me unable to make the most logical, future affecting decision of our entire relationship and as they say, "It's all gone tits up!" and not in a sexy way.

We had a plan.
We deviated from that plan.
That deviation blew up in our faces.

And now for the foreseeable future my puppy can never be called home to be with me, his Mistress.

Even typing the words breaks my heart all over again. We knew it was never going to be easy but everyone in a long distance, international, poly, kink filled relationship knows that. But it's different now. Without rehashing too much of the ordeal puppy and mine's geographical status will continue to contain that great big, beautiful, though time consuming, ocean between us.

"Protect the property at all cost," is what I'm often heard saying during my classes or a scene. But I did just the opposite. And there is absolutely nothing anyone can say to me that will make me think it isn't my fault.

We talk a lot in kink about mentoring and protecting those we play with. When it involves whips, chains, and ball gags that's simple to manage if you're careful.

But what about when you care so selfishly about just having someone as yours and by your side, that you leave them unprotected and vulnerable? What about when know you're doing the wrong thing but you can't help yourself? Or when you justify the consequences of your bad influence in your own mind?

I'll tell you: You put them in a position where outside forces can cause more harm than any your deviant, twisted could ever dream of.

You put them in a position of not having you.

And even worse you put yourself in a position of not having them.

Guest Podcast with Proud To Be Kinky: LDR the Kinky Truth

Last month while I was in London, puppy and I were lucky enough to sit down with the lovely Floss and BakjiBen. Those two were a blast to get off on tangents with haha. We discussed:

• How to stay connected long distance
• Rituals and chasity
• UK vs US kink scene and community
• Geeky stuff
• Rope, rope, rope

It's up live now, so please give it a listen!

Dear Diary #1

**Trigger warning: This is a re-telling of an intense domestic violence roleplay we engaged in. Please do not read any further if you may be triggered by things falling under that umbrella. Thank you.**

Remains to be scene

If I can't arrive fashionably late to a kink event, chances are I probably won't attend.

I dress to be seen.

That takes time. There's always the ritual of choosing the right outfit (and trying each on), if I'm going with Femdom lite or Femdom dark make-up, tights, fishnets, or bare legs, of course shoes and how high I want to appear to be towering over others, and the hair--this is the key that brings my look together. Then I dress my puppy, which has become a fun afterthought that hinges on which panties he'll wear. Because, if we're being honest, there's a 99% chance he's going to end up naked.

So when I planned on attending our first kinky London outing as a couple, arriving nearly two hours late was always part of the plan. We walked in and quickly were checked into what appeared to be a bar in its everyday use. Small pockets of latex clad people were scattered about mingling, chatting, and looking sexy, it was a good turnout of about 60-75 people. The socialization was definitely at a level 10 that night and once we found out the basement dungeon didn't open for another 90 minutes I got a little antsy.

"Maybe we should talk to some people," I casually said to my puppy.

"Oh Mistress, you know I'm bad with talking to strangers, I'll let you do the introductions," he shyly whispered back.

I knew he was right. I talked to strangers everywhere all the time and it was part of what I did for work so I was use to it. I sent him to the bar to get a drink and proceeded to find some nearby kinksters to get to know but couldn't shake the feeling I'd noticed all night, I was being watched. Before we could get too in depth in conversation it was announced that the play area was open and the crowd swiftly shifted downstairs. As we made our way down, I got excited. It had been months since puppy and I played together in a dungeon and I was looking forward to our planned scene. However, as we stepped into the open area there was a clearly noticeable difference down here. Gone was the chatting and smiling faces and in had come the silence and widened eyes. There were only two pairs of people just getting started and everyone else in the space was plastered to the wall.

I grabbed puppy's leash and drug him behind me. "Don't worry about what anyone else is doing, you will be focusing on me tonight," I said in one breath.

We hustled to a smaller back room where I ordered him to lay across a leather plushy spanking bench. I do what I always did at a club for an added mind-fuck: I took each one of the toys I was prepared to use and spread them out within his view. I didn't tie him down as I hadn't brought any rope (don't enjoy explaining that to TSA on oversea travels!) and I hadn't given him any direct instructions except to simply lie down.

I rubbed his back and lightly scratched with my freshly done claw like nails.

"You remember how many spankings you owe Mistress?" I pressed his head down into the leather and cooed in his ear above the music.

"Yes Mistress, 1500 Mistress," he said defeated.

I cackled in delight. I had given him thousands of spankings before so I knew I was in for a workout.

"What are these particular spankings for?"

"For leaving Mistress and coming back to London," he replied without hesitation.

He was exactly right. That had been the guise I put this torturous activity under.

"And what is Mistress's goal?" I asked waiting for his four word answer.

He paused and closed his eyes before saying, "To make me cry."

This was music to my ears as I took the thick leather strap I had been dying to use on him in my hand.

"Shall we begin?" I asked rhetorically not waiting for an answer.

For the next forty minutes or so I proceeded to spank puppy using the leather strap, a wooden paddle, a miniature rug beater, a silicone ball slapper, a flogger and, of course, my hand. He squirmed and squealed at times which only annoyed me to the point of sitting on him and holding him down or just matching his wild flailing with even more wild intensity of the instrument I was holding.

As we neared the end of our spanking scene, tears filling his eyes, I told him to get ready for the next part, pegging. This would be our first public pegging scene and I was worried he'd be too nervous but also excited to humiliate him. By now, it was getting overwhelmingly crowded in our little area as we were one of the few people playing and doing so hard. I readied my strap-on and attempted to fuck my puppy on the wrought iron bed. This didn't go on for long as he was sore from a previous fucking the night before so I moved onto Queening him. I put my back to the room and tried to tune the room out. I rode his face slowly and methodically but not without noticing a gentleman squeeze his way into the red-lit room and slide over until he was leaned against a nearby wall facing me. He stood very close, so close I could've slapped him. He was very much interested in our scene and at one even offered to hold my submissive's legs for me.

I silently shook my head as a no thanks and flashed a fake but agitated smile. It was starting to feel smaller and smaller by the minute in the room and as I lifted off my breathless bottom all I said was, "Clean-up now."

He did as he was told and the nearby man attempted to speak to me as I click-clacked on my heels away not wanting to interact. Within minutes I could see puppy's relived face as he found me in the next larger, main room---still as quiet as a church service on a Sunday, still with the voyeurs splayed on the wall not actively playing.

"I'm ready to go Mistress," he squeaked out.

I couldn't argue with him as I knew if I was feeling the fishbowl effect myself, he was feeling it times ten.

We left the club in a hurry after having a few people approach us awkwardly we immediately said once outside together, "Well that was weird!"

Together we've put on classes, demos, podcasts, Q&As and not once had we both felt so...watched. It was interesting to be in a club and to very obviously be the main attraction without expecting to be the main attraction and then I remembered...

I had dressed to be seen.

Love yourself: Full frontal Mistress

There's no one I love more than myself. 

I don't say that to come across as an asshole, I say that because it's the person I spend the most time with. The one whose mind I get to run rampant through and who I lie awake with each night.

Just having passed that day that promotes love is love is love, it's easy to forget to love yourself first and foremost.

When I first peeked my head into BDSM I was a different type of person. Not different in so much as I wasn't who I am today, just that I presented myself to the general populace as a different type of person.

I have always been a loud, life-of-the-party kind of girl. My sexplorations ranging in mild to "You did what?!" My sassy attitude was still my best weapon.

But once I decided to actually become a "Mistress" I figured I would be myself---fully. No longer would I hide my sexual conquests, semi-shamefully until I found others who wouldn't judge me mostly because they didn't care. No more pretending I was only vulgar because I hung around guys and not because it pleased me. And absolutely under no circumstances would I shield my sassiness from people who might not be able to handle it.

It started out with little things here and there.

The people I talked to: Open-minded folks who cared more about what type of person I was as opposed to what fashion I wore.

The secret thoughts I had: I felt "okay" wanting to dominate a man in and out of the bedroom rather than being doomed to let him lead the way through our failed relationship.

The places I went: BDSM clubs over obnoxious nightclubs filled with unworthy men grinding up on me as I tried to politely (and not so politely) decline their advances.

But all paths led here---to a Mundane to Mistress lifestyle.

When I ceased to keep the two halves of myself separate and combined the two it was like the universe sighed in relief with me...Finally, what took you so long???

It's been years now since I've had to keep up a facade that was as uncomfortable for me as wearing a too-tight wool sweater. I have a career where I can be myself. If clients want to know what I'm about sexually they most likely aren't going to cringe when I mention the four-letters BDSM. If I want to wear my piercings or show cleavage around my general workday no one bats an eye...unless it's to take a gander. And when someone makes a crass joke I can laugh out loud because everyone else is around me is doing so as well.

No more hiding.

I just realized today that this is one of the most fulfilled periods in my life. My life philosophy over time has turned from "Just try to please everyone" to "I am who I am, and fuck the rest'". That's not to say I don't care what others think. Of course I do, it's human nature to want to be accepted, to need to be liked and cared for. I've just realize not to attach too much feeling on others' negative opinions about me, if I feel it's overly judgmental or non-constructive.

I don't have to settle for people who I can show some of myself to but not the rest, oh no. I make it a point to surround myself with people who can accept all facets of my personality and most often than not, cheer for me from the sidelines of life just as I do for them. It's taken time to find the perfect circle of friends and associates but the hard work and scrutiny has certainly paid off.

My transition from mundane to Mistress has changed my life in so many ways and I don't think I could go back even if I tried.

For now, this is where I want to be and this is who I want to be and it feels good to just be able to be.

Guest Podcast with KinkyCast: What Do I Do Next? - BDSM 101

We're back with Woody (and the Beast) as delve further into what to do as you're finding your way in a new community. We discuss:

• Finding a mentor
• Being safe and setting limits
• Managing expectations
• Educating yourself

It's up live now, so please give it a listen!

Dreaming of you

I miss waking up to a plugged, caged, little British boy in my bed...

Painting Paradise

I know you can't always get what you want. But can we get what we deserve? 

Can we put hopes and dreams in baskets and send them up to be fulfilled? How much work does getting what you deserve require? A month? A year? What sort of heartache does one endure? And how much of a show is allowed to be put on before one gives up?  Are you weak if you fail at waiting for what what you hoped for?

It's hard to quantify desires in terms of wants versus needs. And even harder when that desire is a person. 

I don't know whether my wanting of him grew to be a need or if it was the other way around. What I do know is it's there now and has been for some time. BDSM is funny like that. On the surface to an outsider it can seem based only in sex and more rudimentary forms of sexual deviances. But for me BDSM has never been about sex, at least not primarily. I'm not thinking about the sex that I'll miss when he's gone. I'm thinking of the trust we've built to where I can wake him the middle of the night with my hands around his throat. I'll be craving his pet like whimpers from the side of the bed as he begs to be next to me. I'll be remembering his tender kisses as he worshipped my ass. I'll miss wearing his chastity key in front of him in the restaurant where I order for him knowing he's clad in panties under his clothes. Our dynamic has become an intrinsic part of who we are and how we interact with each other. Without it, I will feel defenseless. 

Now it won't go away completely but putting 4,000+ miles, an ocean, vanilla life and tying it exclusively to online will definitely muffle it some. It'd be foolish to pretend it wouldn't.

A lot of what we do is high on any spectrum. It's intense, raw and all encompassing at times. When we're not feeding off each other's vibe all that's left is an enchantment I hope never wains. It's that fondness that feels the most vulnerable to me. The love I want to protect at all costs. Time has yet to be on our side. We always knew this day was coming, when we'd have to go from color back to black and white. I'm trying not to step back and look at the big picture because it's frightening to think of the work it's going to take and the time I have to spend waiting for something and someone that I know deep down was mine from the day I met him. 

I'm going to take it one day at time and try not to forget the beautiful colors we painted together. Hoping that we'll be artists together again sooner rather than later...