I am searching for a submissive who will be traveling soon and who will be passing through the new body-imaging x-ray security machines. I know this is a busy travel season, and I need this done quickly. I’m afraid that the TSA might change their policy when too many people complain during the holiday rush, so we need to arrange this scene promptly. If I am not there going through security with you then I will need to to send adequate documentation of you being manhandled. Some poor working kid is going to grab your junk and see just how small your cock is, in front of everyone else in security. I can just imagine what sort of expression he might make. And what if you’re in chastity too?! DO this for me! Buy me a ticket so I can get through security with you, or be prepared to film or photograph the experience.
I suppose I should write a bit about how I got into fetish and BDSM.
I grew up in a very very small midwestern town. There was no library, and the fire station was a good twenty minutes away and on the other side of the railroad tracks. My family was not on a farm but many of our neighbors had horses, cows, chickens and gardens that made them self-sufficient. I had absolutely no exposure to anything except through broadcast TV and the few music magazines I could pick up when we went into town. With one exception, for some bizarre reason my parents thought it was a good idea to send me and one of my friends to see Rocky Horror Picture Show when I was 15. My parents never talked to me about sex. They couldn’t even say the word sex to me. I pretty much got my sex education from Rocky Horror Picture Show. True story.
When I was in high school I was sent off to a school three hours away and lived in a dorm facility. There were a bunch of us there and it was a college town so I suddenly had everything I wanted and could get away with all sorts of trouble. I was a goth kid, and in this town there were about half a dozen goths, four ravers, a couple of punks, and other such subcultural types. We all stuck together because we had to. We all went to the raves, the punk shows, the metal shows, and the goth club night. The goth club night didn’t last very long, and was replaced with a fetish night. You were supposed to be over 18 to get in, but nobody seemed to care much that two high school goth kids were sitting in a bar at the fetish night event.
The fetish night wasn’t really very exciting. There was a belly dancer, a human fruit platter, and a flogging demonstration under dramatic lighting. There wasn’t any more bare skin than what you would see at the beach. I didn’t think it was very scandalous at all. It wasn’t particularly exciting or arousing. It was just a fun night out. I left that small town three months after I turned 18 and came out to San Francisco with a couple of boxes and my carry-on luggage.
The fetish scene out here was very comfortable and natural. I didn’t have any sex toys or BDSM equipment, but I had a hell of a lot of fun at the parties and clubs. It felt like home. It felt healthy and natural. Of all the things I’ve seen and done out here in San Francisco nothing has been as sick and twisted as some of the things I saw in the small town. Out here I run into some, “yeah whatever, freak” but it’s nothing like the “are you serious? that doesn’t seem healthy” that I saw back in the small town. People were seriously repressed back in the small town and it turned into some really unhealthy things. I have not met anyone out here with any sort of fetish or desire that is really truly unhealthy, and people have admitted some serious dark secrets to me.
So that’s me. Rocky Horror Picture Show as sex-ed and sneaking into “fetish” clubs at 16. Actual fetish fun when I was 18 in San Francisco.
There’s one client that I’ve seen about three times, and the clearest memory I have of our sessions is going to the grocery store after a session with him. I have to dig to try and remember anything about his personality or our playtime. He is in fact a very good well behaved submissive, and I will happily see him again. He’s just less memorable than the grocery store. Though I must say, I think the grocery store is so memorable because I was able to find a particular ethnic food that time.
Gentlemen, do you want to be only a memory of how I spent your money? I know that gets some of you hot. Barely in range of the Goddess’ attention. Lucky that she puts her hand near enough that you can make an offering. You are able to go home knowing that your service has registered in her memory, but not your boring personality or useless tiny cock. You feel lucky that she remembers your offering so fondly and forgot how worthless you are otherwise.
Today on NPR’s Fresh Air program, they interview a former dominatrix who wrote a book called Whip Smart. It was an interesting program! Unfortunately Terry Gross’ questions tended to be of the “why are people so weird” or “what’s a smart girl like you doing in this industry” variety, but the author, Melissa Febos, didn’t make us all look bad. She was really articulate about her experiences. And let me emphasize “her experiences” because they are her experiences alone. She had a lot of interesting and insightful things to say about working as a pro-domme, but ultimately she didn’t like the job and so she quit. She also started working so that she could pay for her heroin addiction. There are plenty of people in this world who hate their jobs and have drug addictions and it’s important to remember that the vast majority of the adult industry doesn’t fall into either of those categories. Her experience is somewhat unique in that way. It’s disappointing that all you ever seem to hear about the adult industry comes from folks who hated it or were junkies.
I think it’s wonderful that NPR didn’t shy away from doing a program on such a taboo subject and that Febos spoke very positively about the variety of fetishes and human erotic experiences. We still have a long way to go.
For a lot of folks, ownership is the desired result of a BDSM relationship. I would also very much like to have my own pet and have a lifestyle relationship, but realistically they’re few and far between. I have to be very careful about how I think about my relationships so that I don’t think I’m having a lifestyle relationship when I’m really not.
This might get a bit personal, but I think it needs to be said. Right now I’m dealing with my issues of control and ownership and watching a loved one totally fuck up his life by doing the complete opposite of what I said. Read more…
I grew up out in the country, as many of you know, and it was pretty boring. When I got old enough to be interested in the world beyond the white picket fence I started riding my bike. I would ride for miles and miles through the country, into the next county to see the cows at a dairy farm and up across the state line into Michigan. Cycling of course build up leg muscles. I had long legs to begin with, and the cycling just made me more leggy. I couldn’t fit into pantyhose, so in high school I started wearing stockings because they fit better. I also loved high heels because I loved how they made my feet look. I was pretty kinky from a young age. I think I knew I was hot, and knew I had great legs. I also went into ballet in high school, so more toned legs and feet there.
I knew I had great legs and I loved feet, stockings, socks and shoes, but I never really connected them with a fetish until I heard about this new foot fetish website. I expressed interest in this website and ended up taking over as webmistress of FootFemme.com. I didn’t expect to be so involved in the foot fetish scene, but I also started going to the foot fetish parties. I don’t think I realized how much of a foot fetish I had until I had this huge audience of worshipers begging to touch my feet.
These days I keep my feet well pedicured and protected from damage. I like wearing sandals and fetish shoes because I know my feet look good. I love seeing foot fetish clients, and if you mention seeing my blog I give a discount on foot worship only private sessions at my dungeon.
I’ve known my beloved Beefy slave for a few years on a personal level. We met at a party, and when I introduced myself as a pro-domme he expressed some interest in pegging and ass play. We exchanged numbers, but just kept hanging out as friends. Until recently. As I started telling him more about my work and my clients he started sharing more of his fantasies. I did some naughty teasing pee play with him in a parking lot, and had him hooked.
A few days ago I called him to come rub lotion into my feet because I was feeling really ill. Beefy is a very good slave, but sometimes I have to remind him to take care of himself. My slaves cannot neglect their own health, hygiene, appearance or well being. When he came over to rub my feet I noticed that his elbows were very very dry. I couldn’t stand it. The skin on his elbows was dead and dry and flaking off. I wanted to puke. I demanded that he lotion his elbows before he touch any part of my body. It might seem like a minor thing, but dry elbows is a sign that people neglect the details. If you don’t think to take care of your own elbows how will I know that you will take care of a small detail for me? The details make a huge difference for me.
I like asses. I like all sorts of ass play. I love my own ass. I run Posteriority.net, which is a real lesbian ass fetish and ass play site. Of course I run a real lesbian ass site. Do you expect any less of me?
A lot of women don’t have a lot of experience with anal or have bad experiences. I find that a lot of lesbians come to love anal after they are properly introduced to it. I’ve also had gay and bi men tell me that I was the most pleasurable and gentle lover they’re ever had. I can make it hurt if I want…
See more pics at Posteriority.net
I love my Spanish footslave, but he can really get on my nerves sometimes. On Saturday he sends me a text message wanting to see me early in the morning. I was just getting out of bed to have breakfast with a friend. I told him no and he continued to text me wanting to know when and where he could see me. I told him he could see me later in the evening. He called me while I was out eating breakfast and I didn’t answer the phone. I called him back at my convenience when I was done with breakfast to tell him that I was on my way out the door for a trip to Santa Cruz. He kept begging and pleading to see me, and I refused. I know what he wants and I will give it to him when I want to give it to him. Begging can be entertaining. I do like a man groveling at my feet, but when I say no I mean no. This motherfucker would not take no for an answer. Next time I see him I am going to beat that man black and blue. I am going to kick him in the face until he has black eyes. I’m going to tear him to pieces and shit on his remains. He is going to suffer.
