Exquisite Pain: Diary of a London Mistress

Sinful Occupations: Into Whoredom & Back Again

2011-08-13T00:32:00.001-07:00

Sinful Occupations: Into Whoredom & Back Again

“...like your manifesto, put it the testo”

(Where is Me Jumper, Sultans of Ping, 1992)

After a most recent personal and social experiment, into what I believed to the be the depths of my worst fears manifest, I must recount the following - for I refuse to be under moral compromise (although many may believe that as a Mistress I am in any case) and anyone’s powers - lest they wish to use my engagements against me. Shocking as it may be I must recount my most recent attempts into whoredom. I am glad to state “attempts” and have never been more happy to have failed at something. My reasons for this confession already laid bare I give you some background and my experiences.

A few years, before I publicly declared my Mistress status, I'd surfed the web browsing many a Mistress site - curious, amused, reticent and at times bewildered at many a proposition, statement, blog, anecdote and frontier into Femme Domination - but always feeling excited and most definitely at home. Through the medium of the WWW, I found that that for myself female domination was accessible, exciting and enriching; after believing myself savvy enough and from my perusals and many an assimilation to other Dommes and their experiences, I outed myself with the Sadie site you see today.

My curiosities into sinful occupations had also seen me sift through escort sites - the glamourisation of this area of sex work (a term I detest and will not use from now on) drilled into me from many a glossy mag, film, tv etc... since my childhood and with particular affect, I believe, throughout my teen years. I had considered this path many a time until my most recent foray. In these considerations it never clicked as did femme domme.

Sinful occupations were not new to me - I had experienced adult phone work at 18 and although I have and still do consider respectable careers, I’d found adult work flexible and not too taxing on one’s stamina or intellect - the latter I felt should be preserved for my studies. The air of sleaze and naughtiness of Sinful Occupations appealing greatly to the rebel within. I’d say I’ve used my talents over the years as well as can be - flitting in and out of fifth: escaping and embracing.

Here I should get to the point, lest my blog becomes a book...

The conditions laid down by most Mistresses in the UK was/is a strict no sex policy - this aspect being one of my personal favourites. On my Ms site I insist that escort sites not be listed. Sexual abstinence and orgasm control is placed on my list of sordid pastimes with reverence and I had prided myself with the fact I could be tributed more than many lady of the night for showing a heel, slapping a face or degrading a sub before me.

Escort sites peaked my interest in the autumn of last year as I slid into disillusionment with my BDSM/Mistress ventures - why? I know not to any full extent - maybe I just wanted to try it? - admitting this to oneself or you the reader is hard but obviously doable. Not long after graduating an aunt had hinted that I would make many a pound to offer my lady garden to city gents and playboys seeking companionship; initially I aired doubt - pressing the fact that many London working girls looked as supermodels, with time on their side and that they would entertain with very personal favours of such intimacy for a rate that was shockingly low. With this knowledge I still went forth.

An agency showed interest and arranged to meet me in front of a posh store after I sent some pictures and details - the following was most demoralising when I met a lady who like someones nan coming from a cleaning job. Giving me the up and down there in the street she asked me “how much per hour? I said I would not do an hour - a two hour minimum at least - sorry darling she said, I am looking for girls with lower rates. With her stood a girl who looked around 19 crying - this was not a good start.

I decided to focus on being independent - joined a site for indy girls - on meeting one in particular reality hit home when she told me would offer personal services for half an hour at 80 pounds - she was beautiful and young - I was again shown an explicit truth about this game - I was also feeling uncomfortable but plugged on.

Failure to be successful as an escort was probably premeditated somewhere near my subconscious waiting with patience to tell me so when required. Reflecting, my website and manner was perhaps too forthright, my stoicism unable to be put away when needed and my confidence too much for most alpha males to handle.

My first, dare I say it, punter (a coiffured 50’s Chelsea type) confessed he had clocked me as Sadie as well as Edeva - “who do you want” I questioned - a tad of both was the answer. “One or the other” was my reply. The soiree resulted in a peg nipple scenario - myself oscilating between being an awful sub - trying somewhat but not well enough. The pinnacle came when he asked me to take his manhood in my mouth and it all ended sadly and badly - “no” I replied (well he did ask) after sniffing some poppers he made an excuse and left. On and up I postulated - wondering where on the learning curve I was positioned.

The second potential soiree ended up with me very (here I admit full liability) stupidly being set up by a guy who was very well spoken and seemed very pleasant - not testing his credentials I arrived,(feeling somewhat dubious as he had claimed he lived at lived London Bridge but it turned out to be Bermondsey) knocked on his door to be greeted by a Chinese family - furious I stormed back my car - I saw a guy across the road blatantly watching me from his window, net held high- suspecting him as the hoaxer I showed him the finger and drove off - this was not the glamour or state of ease I’d expected. Before I’d started on my journey into whoredom the end was looking sooner than expected.

I received many a hoax call after then but was now aware of these time-wasters - I had added to my companion site a name and shame time-waster page - my web slave expressed doubt about it but I found that the Sadie in me could not help herself - she was not taking kindly to oppression and wouldn’t give me rest where I put her in discomfort..

Needless to say the pear kept shaping: the second and last rendezvous was a nice professional chap who also declared that he also knew me as Ms Sadie. As before I gave him a choice - Sadie or Edeva - a bit of both (again) without Edeva’s “full service” resulted in something not unlike a Mistress/Slave session - again no sex but some progress saw that he got to express himself clearly over my shoes - a shoe fetishist in my midst.

Never quitting that easy I had to come around to the notion that I had set myself up to fail with this venture. However I gained experience - it taught me that being a Mistress/dominatrix is my true calling within the scope of sinful occupations - such liberation and sense of control to have a sub in my presence - to be calling the shots is what I do best. I am back comfortably living with assurances of my station and feel somewhat renewed with my passion in bdsm practice.

Cliche as the saying is I would like to quote “we are all prostitutes” with reference in particular to this capitalist existence/ a consumer society, world...- I see it being as one cannot help take part unless inclined to forsake life’s necessities and up and leave to live in a mud hut in Ouagadougou.

To end - I have importantly discovered through my trip to whoredom and back that I do not set myself apart from escorts, as a Mistress, because I believe myself to be a higher being for my learnedness and applications in adult work - dear sisters no! My failure has re-enforced to me that bdsm as a higher practice of sexual activity, is somewhere to turn when some other avenues have been exhausted - that is on both individual and cultural planes and that there should remain as clear as possible a boundary between domination/bdsm and escorting. Sadie now in full fettle has once again got her own way - as ever.

.

Ms Sadie Performs - Club Pedestal Jan 28th

2011-01-26T11:56:00.001-08:00

Mistress Sadie performs at Club Pedestal this coming

FRIDAY 28TH JAN

Club Collosuem, Nine Elms Rd Vauxhall

Performs

IN OBSESSION
a dark fairytale

10 pm
performance at midnigh

Hope to see at least some of you xxx

A letter of Appreciation

2010-09-14T07:11:00.000-07:00

Sharing is not something one should do lightly and one should always think about what should be distributed and what should not - therefore I have censored some of this email from a burgeoning slave of mine. A month well spent in the company of my lesser...read to your delectation.

"Mistress

God how I have longed for you! Longing too shallow, too hollow a word to express that powerful desire that has gone unsatiated. Those nights I have laid awake trying to conjure your image within my mind, tried to remember your scent, your warmth. So many thousands of miles away, such different circumstances, and yet each day felt like not a moment had passed. That you would enter at any second to reclaim me and drag me back to the nocturnal world that was ours.

This July equalled and surpassed all our unions before. I'm sure we both agree. Hedonism and nightly escapades that were worthy of selling your soul for. I shall be damned if I will wait one whole year for us to be reunited in such fashion again. Already I plot to make such space and care not what I loose in the process. Cut my throat if I lie!

And what a brilliant crescendo to end on! ***** **** ** ****** but also our last evening togethor prior to that with our new interest between us. A concept conceived between us that now gestates and grows ambition beneath Mistress's dark nurture. We were bold enough to take action at first and were rewarded handsomly for our courage. Soon is the time to move on, lest she forget lessons already learnt.

I have fantasised at length, as a good deviant always will, and must remark how close our visions match Mistress. I too had seen Dog and Slutgirl constrained togethor under Mistress's whim. Time passing with only the red eye of a video camera, projecting images to the net for Mistress and select friends, gazing on. Occasionally Mistress may return to reposition her subjects and wipe areas clean as necessary. Beseeching eyes at best ignored, at worst mocked. Perhaps a whip yielded to add dramatic flair to events. It ends, as all good evenings must, with slaves, arms bound in leather constraints behind their backs, desperately trying to pleasure Mistress."

It seems you've way with words dearest. One cannot wait for the next episode.

Father and son: How to insult Russian Ogliarchs in Monaco

2009-06-08T11:09:00.000-07:00

It so happened that on my most recent trip to the continent with my two dear friends Ms Belle Douleur and Aunty Tonje in tow, we did happen upon two Russians: "look" I whispered the three of us sitting around a table in the Cafe De Paris " it's a father and son act" as two males walked in and loitered near our table looking for the best spot. One of the them was very tall, tanned and most good looking in a "ken way" the other short and squat, heavy of frame with a very round face, anorak and glasses; in fact it has to be said that this was the roundest face any of us had ever come across; as we three ladies later agreed upon - Aunty making a most correct observational comment that he had "a cartoon face". As we were three ladies in Monaco however and were prepared for a time of partying and socialising, we were prepared to overlook looks and covers for want of some engaging company and entertainment: henceforth the following ensued:

As the Nazi waiter brought a bill over and asked for payment - even though we were not moving and pleaded further drinks to his insistence of a "pay as you go along basis" (so un-continental). Father and son had sat right next to us. I tried to grasp their accent as the waiter spoke to them - believing to myself that they sounded of eastern extraction but not feeling sure of the whereabouts of their cultural origins exactly and with son disappearing for a few minutes I urged, in the most matronly and persuasive of ways, Aunty Tonje on: inspired heavily by a group of young women at the next table who, we had gleaned, had had their drinks brought for them by some old sugardaddie type. Aunty being the outgoing party girl of the three of us was nudged further and further in the most unabashed of manners by myself - " go on, talk to him...do it...ask him of any good clubs...go on...he's looking, he's looking...I urged. And so Aunty Tonje made her move; " erm, excuse me, the Russian favoured not to hear but kept his comely look about him "excuse me" Aunty spoke up and he looked to our direction " we were wondering if would know of any good places to visit around here of an evening". And so the descent began.

"Well" he spoke " I can recommend Cannes at the moment because of the film festival - his accent remaining unidentified until I piped up - "where are you from" just as Shortie sat down. "Russia" he spoke directly at me, "marvelous!" I exclaimed and at that point the waiter came over, Russian Ken gesturing with his hand, "ladies drinks?" "mines a white wine" Tonje said, Belle ordered a cocktail and myself a sparkling water. Shortie sat in his chair side by side with me so that when we spoke we had to turn our heads slightly and our eyes moreso - it was obvious that we could bare not to look at one another. "And what do you do" Tonje followed. "He's a plumber" I said grinning at Russian Ken. Showing his sense of humour he laughed and said "I work in coal and metal"; "he's a miner" said Aunty - again Russian Ken laughed, Shortie sporting a smile also. That's not a tan said Aunty it's coal dust - he offered his hand forth and she rubbed it and everyone laughed at the 'un-PC' joke, the Russians no doubt at our blinding cheek. "Do you know of any good bars or clubs" said Aunty to Shortie? "Well we went to a club called ****** (some name I cannot remember) in Cannes which was pretty good but there is a problem here" chimed Shortie "there are so many whores here in Monaco" - to this his alpha male reference of persuasion I took not too kindly and the air turned sourer than one could have imagined marked by a deathly silence; one of many to come. Shortie through one true but tirade filled statement had, without doubt, landed himself in my bad books. "Well isn't that why you came here" I retorted "and isn't everyone a whore in this capitalist world?" I followed. There was a silence. In a seemingly but shallow attempt to change the mood Shortie said "So where are you from" Aunty told him she was Norweigan but lived in London, "we're English" I divulged, pointing between Belle and myself. He snorted "I went to school in England - a top public school - Seven Oaks". "Oh" I remarked "wouldn't Eton be the top public school?" " No Seven Oaks has been the top school for some years". "How come you don't have an English accent then? I enquired, suspicious as always. I haven't tried, I wanted to keep my Russian accent. "You look Russian" he said to Aunty, " lots of people tell me that" she said. "And what do I look like," I joined in, there was yet again another silence. "I've never been to Russia although I should like to go to Moscow" my feeble attempts at a truce seemed to have some impact as both the Russians nodded agreeing it was a beautiful city "but I once had a boyfriend who dated Russian women, he had a degree and MA in Russian and Eastern politics he told me Russian women were cold and that he would never date them again". The Russians flinched - it seems I had knocked us down their scale another notch all through my cynical experience of lives and life. "Typical and ignorant" hissed Shortie. The conversation then turned to politics and communism whereby I was in my element and Shortie and myself exchanged blows loaded with both sarcasms and truisms. "Of course" I remember concluding, "there really is no such thing as communism" I remember well that Shortie let out a small laugh but I felt he agreed mostly with my statement. "I must say", getting onto the subject of the rich and poor gap in large countries such as Russia who had favoured communism previously, "that with communism's profession of progression one would think that all those communist countries would have the lowest mortality and crime rates. Shortie stiffened and attempted to defend Russia as I crusaded on in the brusquest of mannerisms. For twen minutes or so 'Twas Russia versus Uk versus communism vs capitalism versus humanism versus the human condition etc,. Russian Ken, Belle and Aunty who had opted out of politics were trying to amend the relationship through light conversation but it seemed that all attempts were futile. "Well" I recall saying at this point of the scenario which it must be admitted is now rather fragmented in my mind "if we want to talk progression" after the Russian had made a swipe at out and out capitalism "don't they sell children's body parts in Russia" I made no apology for my rudeness again I brought everyone to an excruciating silence, Shortie eventually answering with "typical ignorant English". I agreed "yes it was an ignorant statement, that is very true" and so was the statement itself I thought and I am sure they quietly agreed. As the conversation had turned to politics, "progressive society" and nationalism of sorts Aunty made her escape and had now gone to the lavatory and there was again a pervading uncomfortable silence - things were not going well. Belle and Russian Ken then started to talk about cigars and she accepted a cigarette from him. On Aunty's return Shortie expressed his succinct observational skills " so it seems you are the quiet one" he pointed to Belle " you the chatty, fun one and you" - he glanced sideways at me and me at him - and paused as I filled in "I am the dangerous one" yes" he replied as though genuinely thankful for my erudite self-description. The conversation turned to "So how are you getting back" we drove I said - I saw them exchange glances: clearly they wanted a lift and as we had made ourselves uncomfortable in our presence I wasn't going to put out (with a lift) unless they put in - the final nail came when the waiter sauntered over and landed us the bill - the Russians not offering to pay, made Aunty Tonje's face a picture as she seemingly choked on her drink, Belle got out her purse with very much readiness and I laughed out aloud as though not in the least surprised. Do not they say you should never talk politics over dinner; such fun! Aunty ordered another drink and the conversation lay sparse on the ground at this point. As we sauntered off I bent down and whispered in Shortie's ear " Seven Oaks my arse" "Seven Oaks your arse" was the riposte. Exactly, I thought, I had him in training and he wasn't even aware.

As we walked out a heavily accented waiter came running behind us - "excuse me Madame, there is an unpaid bill" An inebriated Aunty had forgotten to pay for the last drink.

The beginning of our adventures on the Riveria.

He Who Hath Tried To Torture Me

2009-03-05T05:18:00.000-08:00

He who hath tried to torture me

Failed for all his worth

Whilst hands were bound

a mind followed suit

And freed not itself

but tried further it's will

He who hath tried to torture me

Succeeded and gloats

Swollen and fat

Like satisfaction itself

sat me on bed of nails

Only then silence ensued

For I'd not let it be known

that silence was indeed my friend

String me up as I tighten this strap

Gag me indefinite as I tear at your skin

He hath tortured me for he hath found

What I'd hidden

Degenerate calls

Degenerate is

He hath found me

And torture is clear

For I'll bleed all day before you sip my blood

Killed himself before his own eyes

Strangluation by the rope, get on with the blade

Choked by hands, passed by such

For such as is never, never to explain fully

He who hath tortured me

my free soul

Will not gain crop in a field of contempt

When nothing is felt no symptom or pain

No torture or taint

In no return

For now we both hold

For we've both found

That torture proposed to be hidden

A new maid!

2009-03-05T05:16:00.000-08:00

I hereby declare that Fanny of Hertfordshire is my new official maid.

Fanny, who has also undergone a recent name change to my liking, has pledged to serve her Mistress in more than a few ways and in the most servile of mannerisms. I shall sincerely hope that she sticks to her word. I should like to welcome her to the House of Sadie but at the same time warn her that: my standards shall never cease, my word remain law and my mind and hand always deft. To her I conclude - try your best for your best may save you, or break you, or both.

Mondays

2009-02-23T12:56:00.000-08:00

Like Sir Bob and more. I have shot the whole day down and those who took part. I have listened to something I wished not and now I am bitterer than one could possibly imagine, a cruel cold woman, a cruel cold woman with a grudge on a Monday - a Monday that has been shot down. Hurry Tuesday for you know not your popularity.

Thoughts: BDSM/Fetishism, Culture, Society &The Indivdual

2009-02-23T05:05:00.000-08:00

Someone recently sent me a not very pleasant email calling me dull - they may well be right! I did not respond directly, directing the mail to the junk box; but I suppose I have replied in some ways with this post. Off the cuff and in response to an email from a photographer regarding fetishism, I thought I should give my views on 'alternative' practice, in particular BDSM/Fetishism in cultural, individual and societal contexts, an airing.

'I see it this way - alternative movements/trends and fashions do lend themselves somewhat at some point to the mainstream but this is, I see, the commercialisation of a trend which when it does pass over to the other side, then in doing so becomes not an alternative trend. Clearly this is the product life cycle, applicable to all in the capitalist world, for everything is a commodity and everything has a price. These seeming two dimensional states (alternative and mainstream remaining transient) take on another dimension with regard to fetishisms and BDSM because of the base nature of both of the aforementioned. Fetish has/is currently experiencing a cultural resurgence however it is not totally culturally applicable because on a continuum from total repression to total sexual realisation true fetisism that that should be raw and extreme cannot be anything else lest it cease. BDSM/fetishm, as I see it, is a realisation of the sexual mind - and all this in the face of liberalism - as Muse noted society eats itself; as Paglia wrote sadomasochism post mass liberlism; as Baudrillard also wrote about, in great depth; something to the tune of - for everything is porn in a capitalist world and capitalism is inevitable as long as it goes unrecognised. To those outside of the practice of bdsm who want to gain from it not through it - if you are reaching over into the mainstream using fetishism as a theme then our goals are different for I am not intending to take my practice of BDSM/fetishism to the mainstream and have no desire - I wish to remain as sleazy as possible for me Mistress Sadie is not fun; it is drudge - yet light work, pretence - yet truism in explicit, but beyond explicit, form. That is what I have to make it to make life at least 'liveable'.

Call me a pessimist...but a pessimist can break balls far better than an optimist'

Dirty Stick

2009-01-26T05:16:00.000-08:00

Dirty Stick: Indeed the name brings to mind, vulgarity, disease and general degeneration and it has to be said that Dirty Stick of Hatfield meets all the above descriptions; vulgar in action, diseased in mind and degenerate as a whole being. The evening past Dirty Stick was admitted to my stable; an action which he will both regret and cherish - in one foul swoop to begin and then in alternating states until the permanent state of sublime submissive euphoria is reached.

After the failed attempt at personal initiation and the CBT cheese grater scenario, the cling film bound to his face and arms distorting his gnomish facial features, which weren't much to speak of in any case, was indeed a sight to behold. Lain, stripped bare and exhausted on the cream thick pile carpet, whilst American Beauty played on the screen before us, he kept on pledging that he wanted to be mine, that everything that was his was mine: 'I just want to be yours' he whined. Well Dirty Stick everything shall be mine. I shall take, take, take; use and abuse and fulfill your wantonness. Beware, they say, for you may just get what you ask for.

Instant recifications; bringing him down a peg

2009-01-24T17:25:00.000-08:00

Perusing my website this very evening I was aghast to find a grammatical mistake which made my blood boil for more than one reason - not only was this sound abuse of the English language but who, ultimately, pays for the mistake I ask you? myself, that is who! Mistress Sadie - presented as careless for all to see! Well, I shall jolly well make sure that the record is set straight and that however much I pay is paid back to me doubly so.

A lowly web squirt called Bert(no rhyme intended)decides every now and then to change things as he feels is correct however Bert fails to see that his literary perspective is firmly skewed, his grammar in the gutter and his enthusiasm unknown to a boundary or two; even if one (a boundary) hit him on the nose. The simple fact of the matter was that he was told not to amend text unless I said so; that he was to paste text from my email. I am therefore positively fuming.

In light of this, One has to let it be known that One can only take so much incompetence before taking firm action. Below is the mistake, that I promptly sent in an email to slave Bert himself, outlined for all to see.

Bert
It has come to my attention that you have added Mistress (in large bold type) so that it does not replace 'I' but replicates Mistress Sadie - I should inform you that semi-colons do not indicate the end of a sentence but can be used for; lists, to avoid confusion with commas; clauses, with relation to the previous remark/statement; (and/or) clauses that are too short to be a sentence. I do also believe that very long pauses can also call for semicolons; lets hope you agree.

The sentence in question, your twisted version that is, therefore reads without the clauses and lists in between -

Mistress Sadie, once lost,...;Mistress Sadie is now most certainly found....

SHOULD BE!

Mistress Sadie, once lost,...;...;is now most certainly found...

Here One could use commas but chooses to use semicolons especially in the state of their of decline.

Low sluts like you need to know the correct way.

This, rather your, unforgivable version DOES NOT MAKE SENSE! I would have not, in any instance, given the go ahead for this - I have told you regarding text that you are not to change it - I am to change it and send it to you. What came over you? Explain.

In light of this rash behaviour and resultant embarrassment to E/everyone all round, you are to write a disclaimer at the bottom (included below) before the copyright sign and a letter of apology which shall explain both how and why you caused this awful mess, and due distress to your Mistress - this shall duly be posted on the Blog for all to see.

After this fiasco, a strong word I am aware, I hope you do not make any repeats and I certainly hope you've not gone skiing and that you can make it to Pedestal whereby you shall be punished in a most public manner.

Ms

Obvious non clarity

2009-01-06T18:00:00.000-08:00

Fleetingly, the kiss has left me.
Hungry for more strictness and pomp.
Will not always do if it is not more than cannot be done.
Where again a palm or a mind shall land.

Dissatisfaction or Missatisfaction?

2009-01-04T16:23:00.000-08:00

My blurred vision allows this: that in the beginning A/all are never satisfied (my mother would tell me when I was younger, that I was or would never be satisfied); some become satisfied; some become dissatisfied again after some initial satisfaction and others are 'missatisfied' - the latter with obvious regard to satisfaction concerning the wrong things, the former - dissatisfied - with regard to lacking any satisfaction at all.

I remain, in this, my introspective vs extrospective moment of self analysis, both dissatisfied and satisfied - that is I am satisfied that I am dissatisfied and would endeavour or expect nothing else, have never done so, and would hope for a sound contradiction for the rest of One's life. After all, life is never so fun except when getting above One's station - you will agree!

Filth: In a dog's own words

2008-12-28T16:14:00.000-08:00

As a woman of sound moralistic mind and soul, virtue and intent I have to make public this very email that was sent to me by an[other] over imaginative, over sexed male dog - one full of insatiable lust and animal instinct; a male whose mind is clearly a cesspit of filth and sadomasochistic dispostition - a lowly slut who requires just chastisement for all that has been conceived from within and all that, that potentially, could be conceived further. I once again sit here and sigh, a perspective jaded, to have to again make public the very depths of depravity.

'Mistress

The very moment I saw you walk into the room the other afternoon I at once knew I would be fantasising about this meeting for months to come. You looked absolutely sensational! Springing to my feet eager to place a kiss upon you cheek and show the restaurant I held at least some small association with this beautiful woman. I wondered what onlookers would think - a man sat waiting, pensive, clearly lingering for a superior to arrive. The beautiful, dominant boss entering, eyes turning to the line of the sharp cut suit and seamed hosiery. Clearly she was entertaining a favoured worker, perhaps a Christmas reward for good service during the year. Their meeting starting warmly but cordially. However as the meal progressed, and wine from Southern regions drunk, she began to show quite openly how this subordinate was in fact a pet - teasing him with hand fed sweets, having him lick from her fingers. Then as they departed it could quite clearly be heard that she was taking him to the ladies toilets for him to lick her a**e. This, not the meal, the true gift for his loyal servitude the proceeding year. Half a dozen faces must have flushed crimson in shock and ill-concealed envy. Swiftly he moved behind her as she strode forth purposefully to public female lavoratories. The filthy, sluttish honour of crawling in my suit upon that floor, tongue desperately trying to gain depth and intimacy within Mistress. Jaw strained, eyes closed with the sound of p*ssing and idle chatter echoing off the tiled walls and porcelain seats. I would have paid so very dearly for a picture of that scene. The slave thoroughly reminded of his place both by the symbolism of the act and swift slaps to the face, followed by spittle spat with a snarl down his throat. A different man left that stall to the one that arrived.'

Dickens's Bleak House

2008-11-26T16:33:00.000-08:00

All I had aspired to for the evening was to watch Bleak House; it was all I had wanted but there before me was an obstacle - perhaps an obtrusion would be a better term.

Whilst Mr Jandyce proposed to Ms Somerson I waited with baited breath and before me a slut squirmed whilst, I, myself, as innocent with intention as the morning dew, urged her (Ms Somerson) to accept his (Mr Jandyce's) proposal knowing that of course there may be complications ahead when the doctor would inevitably return to claim her hand. However instead of the next chapter of Bleak House a situation out of my control took place - I became distracted by a 'nemo'.

'twas then I took the ropes and twisted and turned with dexterity; pulled and knotted alike; a state of nimbleness that I had never attained in HE or at home sewing with my mother; And I gagged and beat and threatened and blasted; shots into the torso.

'twas then I realised a distant entity before me - nothing more than a creature of nature, restricted, strapped and roped and trapped he became - I brought him down.

And there I reduced the form to nothing, no more than a former shadow of a male; and at that, one (male), driven insane; locked up, a mind divided, then collected, a body disabled then mobilised - a body undecided. Apparently I had said - 'if you dribble upon my carpet I shall pluck out eyelashes one by one.'

At last I returned to Bleak House although the situ was far from over - he stays in the hall whilst I watch the conclusion - wishing he had took interest himself.

For Dickens's theme on the human condition still rings very so true - but in this very instance just relayed you see now how we wish to steer it ourselves.

Note: When a name ends with S either use: eg., Dickens' or Dickens's is acceptable.

Preparing for Pedestal

2008-11-19T17:04:00.000-08:00

A friend cannot bear the thought of women hitting males (she calls them men) but prefers it the other way around - that is the female as sub the male as Dom. Club Pedestal, I try to persuade her is an 'experience' and 'oh, if you change your mind between now and Thursday let me know' for I am dying to show her this just environment which remains further from her fancy than a Masters' 'do' would from mine.

And so the paucity of understanding of the female Dominant continues: it remains and may always do so, difficult to gauge, just how different the Mistress/slave Domme/sub druthers is until someone close, whose inclination is not of the strictest, really puts it as they see it.

Despite the lack of enthusiasm from some friends One could almost overcompensate with the seeming enthusiasm of ten or so people at least - for Mistress and slave (for 'slave and I' could never do)are prepared for an evening of parade, pomp, punishment and correctness - correctness in the way things are, how they should be and the way they are seen. Oh! for greater depth, insight and understanding into the dominant female being; but perhaps then a sense of ennui would pervade?!

Unto us

2008-11-19T16:39:00.000-08:00

As the dark unfurls
Strewn body
as furniture
stacked
on furniture
stacked on bodies
bare flesh
on metatarsals
blinded, by nascent
dark
still to come
to engulf
one's impatience
forfeited
misplaced

lain out
juries of
headless persons
do will
wishful thinkers
do wish
and turn in your grave
and present meagre offerings
into this impediment
to further some cause
and cause some further
tells not many, but some lies
and lies told unto us
will get nobody nowhere

Note: if you cannot get the 'flow' the first time I urge you to re-read and the accompanying syncopation should occur sooner or later.

Exposed and true

2008-11-11T16:13:00.000-08:00

'Prostitutes' in paintings, in Covent Garden paintings as Hallie remarks were renown for their skills but 'prostitutes' not courtesans in shit stained paintings were the precedent to the evening: I became one.

In that evening we were walking, as Mistress walks her dog, to lead him to and alley where she asks if he is at home? and he bows and wags his tail and more civilised than she, and turns his gaze, his untrue gaze to concrete roundabout.

And up a wall the dog did p***, bestial in all his glory
As Mistress choked and looked away - unperturbed in her bright maladies
And one road up walked prostitutes - as those in the dark window spied
And prostitutes are everywhere - males in disguise!
And those that think that they are not
And those that think they are
And courtesans and business mans
Come suck my fake cigar

For prostitutes we are all
One really cant escape
So paint me naked
My fair muff
No modesty you' ll take

And get your agents to stand and talk
Out an oriface or two
For they are blinded by your wares
They are prostitutes too.

Losing Capacity

2008-11-09T11:49:00.000-08:00

I suppose that one can lose their capacity, or at least their motivation, at any time to do anything that they believe required of them, simply for the reason that they run out of steam?! And it seems that is only when one really takes stock of their surrounding and happenings that this very happening or none happening one should say, is brought to the fore. Today I have run out of steam - well of course it is Sunday and I bear not to think of what will come Monday but indeed Tuesday seems much rosier.