Friday, September 22, 2017

Freshman Humiliatrix

I don't usually bring politics into my blog but with Betsy DeVos making moves to protect college campus rapists, I feel like I can bring in politics while remaining on topic.

To begin with, it is no secret that college campuses are hot beds of sexual activity, consensual and nonconsensual. I attended state university in the heartland of America surrounded by rolling hills and fields of grain.  One of the roughest moments of time there was when me and some friends sat down and confessed to each other the various accounts of sexual assault and harassment we had all experienced. That is something no one should have to experience, let alone so many should experience.

Having to face a rapist or attacker over and over again on campus is a disruption to education. During the Obama administration, there were guidelines released for how universities were to deal with these allegations. While they were not perfect, they were a much needed step in the right direction. But now Devos has rolled these back, saying they were too harsh on the rapists. TOO HARSH ON RAPISTS. ha.

It was my first weekend of University that I had my first encounter with the type of predator I would soon grow familiar with. I was at a fraternity party with some girls from my dorm and some people I had met at freshman orientation over the summer. I was drinking, of course, and dressed to the nines but in no way asking for anything. By the end of the night I was disoriented and intoxicated, unsure of which way was home. A blond All-American looking boy who lived in my dorm offered to walk home with me.

"Great!" I thought out loud. "Now I won't be walking home alone!!"

Ha. How cute.

This "nice" guy did walk me home, but instead of dropping me at the second floor where my room was, he took me to the 7th floor. In front of his dorm door, he tried to kiss me and I did a quick spin to get out of the way. He then took me to the floor common room where I collapsed onto the couch drowsy from alcohol and trying to reorient myself.

"This is not my floor," I slurred and closed my eyes trying to figure out how why he had brought me here. But then the reason became clear when I opened my eyes and I was in an unwilling staring contest with his one-eyed pocket snake that he was attempting to put on my face or in my hand, it was very unclear.

I swatted it away, giggling "haha is that it?" hinting not so subtly that I found his cock to be disappointing in size. He was visibly thrown off by such a comment and I had pulled myself together to get up and make a dash for the stair well.

I made it away safely, stumbling down the 5 flights of stairs to my own floor and room.

What a welcome to college life.

Since we lived in the same dorm which also housed the closest dining hall, I saw him over and over again. He got my number from someone in our building and added me on Facebook. He must have mistaken my drunkenness for actual interest and persistently messaged me. He actually thought I was interested.

But I've always been a bit twisted. Eventually, I grew annoyed and bored with simply rejecting him with false plans and assignments. A month or so later, he messaged me again. His roommate was out. I didn't have any pressing homework or plans, so I agreed to go up to the 7th floor. I met him in his room, and began my game.

He expressed how hurt he was at my little commentary that first weekend of classes. I played along and subtly patronized him. I let him kiss me, I enjoy a good kiss every now and then. His kissing was subpar, and I told him.

Again he pulled out his unimpressive member. I was bored of him and knew his sexual skill would provide me no pleasure. He sat on the bottom bunk of the beds typical of college dorms and I sat across from him in one of those round chairs also typical of college dorms.

He was toying with his tiny dick and I was toying with him. He was right were I wanted him.

I sat back in my chair.
"It's still unimpressive. Show me how you do it by yourself. I want to watch," I said with feigned interest.

He began to furiously masturbate in front of me, in a pathetic 2 finger grasp, that was all he needed.

I continued to harass him and he continued to masturbate. I was growing bored but he was getting into it. He was actually enjoying it. I didn't intend for him to enjoy this. I was humiliating him, I was making him feel small. He was in no way ever going to be able to please me. As his interest grew, my interest faded.

But in one last stroke of brilliance, I faked a phone call as he was about to cum.

"I need to take this," I told him, knowing full well he was about to reach his sweet release. But his orgasm was none of my concern and as the door clicked behind me I heard that last grunt of his.

He never called me again after that.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Kicking the habit just didn't work

So when I first got to Europe, I did a quick summer stint as a Pub Crawl guide. It was a crazy hectic party girl time, but way different than the partying I loved in NYC. I traded my leather and latex for denim and party shirts and my heels for trainers. I was so entirely certain I could kick my kink habit if I just destracted and immersed myself into something totally different. Here I was in this beautiful city surrounded by a killer team and working a full time day job for the first time ever.

It was an amazing experience. I loved being a pub crawl guide, but in the beginning after a few drinks I would immediately start missing my life as a Domme. Every so often I'd find someone who sparked some sort of sadism in me and I couldn't help myself. Sometimes it was whispering sweet nothings into the ear of a girl I just met till she was over my knee. Other times, it was quiet coercion to get a kiss on my boot.

Other times, I just couldn't help myself and it was full on humiliation. One day, we had some guests at our flat, friends of someone. One in particular caught my eye, S. S had a few years on me and towered above me. He had a boyish simile that hinted at trouble and let me know I could convince him to play.

After a few rounds of two for one margaritas, as alway happened without fail, someone shouted DID YOU KNOW MARIE USED TO BE A PROFESSIONAL DOMINATRIX. S didn't shy away. S asked questions. Everyone asked questions. That day, I felt sassy enough for a show and once we got back to the flat I started my game.

I started talking about how much fun it can be to give up control, how there are so many options once you have someone tied up. How imagination is your only limit.

In a playful way, I helped him out of his shirt to behold the body of a greek statue. I tried not to get distracted by his body as I looped the rope around his wrists.
"See! Rope bondage can be super easy!" I said and I quickly flipped his arms over his head, securing the rope around his muscular torso. I let my fingers linger on his skin, feeling his muscles move as he tested his new bindings.

We had a nice laugh and I paraded my work into the living room.

"And the best part, is now that he is mine, I can do what I please"

I slowly found my way to his zipper and got my on knees, being the full on tease that I am. With big puppy dog eyes, I looked up and asked "May I?"

He was so worked up he forgot there was a room of people watching and uttered a breathless yes.

Monday, July 24, 2017

I'm Back... and I'm into it.

After a year of being completely vanilla, my kinky lizard brain has started waking up again. I think it happened when I put on some latex gloves to clean the bathroom and I remembered how great rubber feels. Sure I was putting on the gloves to clean a toilet, not glamorous as all. But ooooooo my. Latex, even in its less sexy house cleaning cousin, is divine. Or maybe it was the day I accidentally walked into the clothes line neck first, slighting restricting my breath, reminding me how intricate and meaningful breath play can be.... Honestly, it might have been the day I was in the middle of a yoga nidra class and drifted off to the place of self suspension.  Actually, I think it was the day I flipped over the handle bar of a bike, got a killer colorful bruise, its amazing the art we can make on skin. Wait. No. It must have been when some pig hit on me as the bar and I wanted nothing more than to pour my drink on his head, grab his ear and force him to lick the bottom of my boot......

Thats the thing about kink, it isn't a phase, its an entire thought processes. It is engrained in us. It is part of our beings and essential to our character. Sure we can go days and months and years without thinking of it, but it doesn't take much to turn that lizard brain back on. Just one simple every day moment can bring it all back. Something like the snap of a latex cleaning glove, the crack of a towel, the moment when you really give up control to something greater than your self.

There are many outlets for this kinky energy. Personally, I found rock climbing to give a similar thrill. And travel surely can distract from a severe case of kink overload. But eventually, even the most beautiful churches can't distract you and you start getting all sentimental, missing kink looking at broken and tortured Jesus. (Side note: WHERE on earth do these churches get those ridiculous statues???? Like is there a catalog full of tortured Jesuses, or is it Jesusi?)

For me, these moments have been happening a bit too frequently and I am itching to have someone tied up on all fours in front of me. I am itching and wishing and waiting for that moment when I can use one boot to guide a face toward my other boot....  I want freshly kissed boots and worshiped feet. I want boys in rope and girls bent over. I. Want. It. All.


Backpacking and hoboing around Europe has been fun, but I'm ready to trade pub crawls and walking tours for ropes and canes again... Ready to swap my hiking boots for some delicious knee highs.

Basically, I'm back bitches, now get in line and get ready to serve.



Monday, April 18, 2016

OFF THE GRID

I haven't been posting, I haven't been taking new clients.

At this point, I am taking some time off and traveling.

I will be keeping in touch with a few selected and dedicated slaves. If you aren't sure if this is you, it probably isn't you.


Keep checking if you are THAT serious about serving. Maybe send Me a gift card to get my attention?

this break is for Me and I am so excited for it.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Rope Bondage.

I like to take the time to delve into the depths of specific aspects of my craft. Bondage is one of the specifics I frequently find myself musing on. There is something simple about it. It is the first thing that people think of when BDSM comes up. References to kinky furry handcuffs are commonplace. But bondage is anything but commonplace when looked at closely.


Bondage is a physical activity that involves binding the body in a way that the subject is compelled and subjugated to the dominance and control of another. Hands tied, hogtie, mummification, there are endless physical permutations of this activity.




I have been delving into rope bondage lately.

I am fascinated with the different ways different bodies move. I love the look on my subject's face as they feel the rope get tighter and tighter as I continue to furiously tie. Before he/she knows it, he/she is trapped in my wonderful web.

I step back. I watch. The struggle is beautiful: single line from a chest harness to a hard point, one leg tied up, the other leg forced to balance the weight. I watch and the expression on my subjects face slowly dissolves into serenity as he/she gives into the sensation.

The tight rope offers security while presenting torture at the same time. I watch from the other side of the room, every so often, approaching to offer a slight sensation: My warm breath on the neck, My finger tips across an exposed nipple, sometimes a sadistic tug on whatever cock rope may be present.

I watch carefully and closely for the signs that its time to change position.

I switch positions and repeat.

It always amazes me how different each body is, how different each limit is.

Eventually, I let me subject go, I hear the sigh of relief and see the sadness that O/our time has ended.

They always come back. Rope is an addicting thing like that.
Are you ready to be tangled in mine?


Tuesday, September 22, 2015

A great idea

I met j in a vanilla setting but knew right away that he was kinky. Fast forward 6 months, I decided to take him to Parthenon for a Fem Domme Party. It was his first time a party in a dungeon and he was nervous to say the least, he wasn't sure what to expect.

I had plenty planned for him.

To start the night, I made him carry a balloon. It seemed innocuous at first but after a while it began to weigh on him, not literally, but mentally. I love a good mind game and making sure the balloon didn't pop was a perfect little game.

When we arrived j was overwhelmed by Mistresses and Dommes dressed to the 9s and male subs catering to their every whim. After some socializing, I dragged him into a room and began the scene.

I began with a suspension. I carefully looped the rope and noted and hitched until he was off the ground. The whole time, we were both cracking jokes and having a great time.  By the time I tied off the final line to take j completely off the floor, there was a crowd watching us. We didn't care, we were having our own fun.

j was just hanging out, still holding onto his balloon of course.
I reached into my bag.

he had watched me pack the bag earlier and questioned some of my choices, mostly my choice to include rubber bands.  With the balloon in his hand, suspended in midair, he has no choice but to succumb to my whims. I proceeded to cover his head in rubber bands, contorting his face. I made a gag out of the rubber bands and he started to drool. I stretched one around his nose to make it turn up.

It was all good fun.

As we continued, I heard someone say "Wow, she's the real deal."

I thought to myself, "Damn right I am!"

It was a good night.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Domme day in the Park

I haven't posted about an adventure in a while, mostly because having a job is taking away from my adventure time. Last week, when I had the day off, I knew what I had to do.

I have been in New York for almost 2 years now and have never spent time in the park and with the forecast of sunny with a high of 75, there was no debate. I packed a bag and headed to the park, I texted some friends to meet me there.

One friend brought a picnic lunch and as we feasted on decadent salads of cheese and fruit and nuts and vegetables, we noticed this majestic woman in a long dress with a hula hoop. Turns out it was none other than Gigi The German Mistress, one of the friends I texted to meet us!

I was thrilled and she came over with her German gear and joined our picnic. We finished the picnic and the champagne and my friend had to leave, leaving a buzzed Gigi and me alone in the park.

We decided this will not do.
We took to Twitter, we needed alcohol and someone to entertain us.
While we waited for someone to arrive with more liquor, we set out of a mission.

"LETS OBJECTIFY MEN IN THE PARK," I declared and objectify men we did!

We lured over some young boys and made them feel like meat. They had no idea what to do and when We hinted and what it is that We enjoy inside of the dungeon, they suddenly had to go. What silly little boys.


Shortly after, a boy arrived with the liquor We requested and Our fun continued.

I decided I needed to climb a tree, it is no secret I am in touch with My inner child. I NEEDED to be in the tree. I couldn't reach the first branch, so like the good boy that Our boy is, he quickly offered himself up as ladder so that I could find My perch in the tree.

It was lovely looking down at people enjoying the park on a perfect day.

Eventually, it was time to come down and we continued again with our mission.

We used a whistle to get the attention of another boy and quickly intrigued him.

"Do you like older women?" The German Goddess asked coyly.

The boy blushed and didn't know how to respond.

"Do you want to see my boobs?" The German Goddess asked.

"Yes," the boy said shyly.

And then The German Goddess toyed with her dress, only to produce a sticker of cartoon boobs that Our boy had given her when he arrived with the alcohol. The poor boy looked almost relieved, because he would have had no idea what to do if She had actually pulled out a boob. He then had to go find his friends.


We then whistled and yelled at passing men.

"I bet you have a nice 401k"
"Are you going to buy us dinner?"


"Its like watching two Lionesses on a hunt where I have befriended them just enough to not be prey, but not enough to feel entirely safe and protected," Our boy confessed to Us as he rubbed The German Goddess's feet.