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.

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.

NEW YEAR AND BACK AT IT

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Bare-ing Soles

Sometimes, I have really stinky feet. I mean so stinky even I can smell them, and right now is one of those times. As I sat here pondering my stinky feet and wondering what it is that makes foot worship one of my favorite things, a distant memory popped up. It is the type of memory that only makes sense to me now. 

When I was younger, I hung out with the kids on my block. I was the self declared queen and no one dared to question my authority. I ruled the playground, the neighborhood and all the kids in our little crew. Everyone came to my blanket fort to pay their respects.  

One neighbor in particular, named Michael, frequented my blanket fort and endlessly pledged loyalty to my self proclaimed crown. On this one day I recall, he was in my fort telling me how much he loved me. Keep in mind, I was about 8 at this point and he was 10. I told him that if he really did love me and respected my crown, he would kiss and rub my feet. And to my surprise, he did.

He is now a member of the United States Navy, married and has two beautiful children. I wonder if he kisses his wife's feet. 

Its so interesting how fetishes can sometimes be traced to a very specific moment.....