More fun in San Francisco…

I kept in touch with the male Dom who I met at The Power Exchange…he who flogged me first. He invited me to come back and I can resist anything except temptation.

On one trip I brought my boyfriend at the time. This turned out to be a poor choice but a worthwhile learning experience, but I’ll get to that. First I’ll tell you about meeting the famous “Midori” ( www.planetmidori.com ) Among other things, she’s known for being the author of “The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage”. She was doing a rope bondage stage performance at a big fetish bash and I had the opportunity to help out behind the scenes body painting some of her victims/models. I got to meet her and received a signed copy of her recent CD of erotic stories. She was lovely and it was a thrill meeting someone so well known in the fetish community.

During this event I also had an opportunity to ‘bottom’ under some very talented Doms. I loved being strung up in front of a crowd. I was spanked, flogged and experimented on (electro-play, etc.). To be honest, I didn’t care for the acts (other than flogging) as much as I loved being watched.

I had been having my fun, checking in with my boyfriend from time-to-time. It was a big party, he was wandering off and coming back and I thought he was having a good time. I was deep in ‘sub space’ being flogged in front of a large crowd when I caught his eye and noticed something was off. I went up to him and asked. Things were NOT okay. He had just had enough of watching me ‘getting beaten’. He looked disgusted. People were watching us talk, they could read the situation. I was humiliated and ashamed. I felt like a freak for enjoying myself. I felt selfish for not realizing he wasn’t having fun. I was emotionally vulnerable after hours of ‘play and excitement’. It was like being dropped from a 10 story building. I just broke down.

That was about 10 years ago and I was not then who I am today. Now, at 35 I would likely not get myself into such a situation and if I did, I would react differently. Then, however, it was crushing. I cried in the cab all the way back to the hotel and cried all night. He did not try to comfort me. I felt like a disgusting human being for being into kinky stuff.

Obviously, we didn’t stay together, but that doesn’t even matter. The important lesson I learned was about emotion and the vulnerability of¬† ‘sub space’. It helped me later on to be a good Domme.

My journey in learning to accept my kinky side has not been a straight path. I had my set backs and uphill battles. Maybe you, my reader, have similar stories? I invite you to comment here if you like. I know I’m not alone in my love of kink anymore…you are not alone either *smile*.

MistressT Fetish Goddess

Vulnerable

 

BDSM Beginnings continued…

…continued from the last post…and I know some of you have been anxiously awaiting more of this story…after I fisted her and played with her for a bit longer the male Dom asked if I’d like my boots shined. His little smirk and her moans of excitement led me to understand that this too would be something very kinky.

He released her and sat down in a chair, gesturing me to sit beside him and watch first. She fetched some regular shoe shine supplies and went to work, half naked on her knees at his feet. This alone was erotic and dirty enough to satisfy but soon she was riding his boot with her pussy pushed down on the toe, humping his boot like a dog, moaning like a whore. The growing crowd loved this display and she loved being watched. When she had properly ‘shined’ both of his boots she moved on to mine. The toe of my boot was more slender and she was able to fuck my boot like a cock, taking most of the toe to my ankle deep in her hungry, freshly fisted cunt.

The male Dom then asked if I would like to know what it felt like to get flogged. I was up for pretty much anything at that point and as if in a dream I found myself dropping my pants. Standing on a small platform, leaning forward against a slightly inclined board I was bare-assed and ready. The slut who had just fucked my boots was holding my hand, telling me what to expect, reminding me of safe words and being very sweet. Just past her I made eye contact with my now very freaked out platonic male friend in a sea of faces all watching the newbie (me) getting flogged for the first time.

Also in view was a women in a sex swing getting fucked very hard. On the floor to my left was a naked man in a gimp mask, kneeling on a little blanket jerking off. Further to my left there was a women on on fours getting fucked from behind by one man while another one fucked her face and a third video-taped them. Last, but certainly not least, over my shoulder I could see the male Dom, clad in all leather, holding a huge, heavy, mean looking flogger. He told me to turn away and I felt the weight of it come down on me…on my back, against my ass, with increasing intensity. It was glorious. I started to sweat. I felt so alive. I’ll never forget that night.

My friend & I laid awake most of the night processing what had happened. He and I stayed platonic friends.

I traded contact information with the male Dom and he became an important friend. I’ll tell you more about him later.

For those who are confused about me being a Domme who enjoyed being flogged, let me explain further. I am first and foremost an exhibitionist. Although I am naturally Dominant I am open-minded and feel that Dommes should know what it feels like to be a sub, even if that doesn’t really ‘do it’ for them. I make a lousy sub, by the way. I’m a real brat, too strong willed and stubborn. I also hate pain. In the words of the great Mae West: “I’ll try anything once, twice if I like it, three times to make sure.”

MistressT FemDom Fetish Goddess Ass less Pantyhose

Bottoms Up!

BDSM beginnings…

While I was working as a receptionist at that big company in my early 20’s a coworker introduced me to an interesting website. I think it was called “Bianca’s Woods” or something like that. It was a place where people could write sexy stories and post them for others to read.

Most of the stories were the usual sort of thing but one story really caught my attention. It was a long story written from a woman’s perspective. She needed work and took a job as a maid/servant in a fancy mansion. She sensed something was unusual there but couldn’t place it. When she finally met the owner of the house and her real boss she was so nervous she spilled his drink. He took her over his knee and spanked her. What followed was a slippery slope of events that climaxed in a very intense scene…she was prepared, presented, strung up, stimulated, and fucked by a group of people. The interesting part was that it was all written from HER perspective, and it was very consensual. The reader could ride the emotional roller coaster with her, her shame, her wrestling with this side of herself, her giving into it, etc. There were various elements of BDSM, electro stimulation, pain & pleasure and in the end, even a dog!

The same author wrote other stories, all from the woman’s perspective. Her struggle with giving herself, submitting.

I found this theme very exciting. Submission. Control. Domination. Pain & pleasure. I wanted to explore but I didn’t know how…but just like most, I found my way, didn’t I? *grin*

A couple years later I was in San Fransisco with a platonic male friend. I asked the concierge at our hotel to recommend a place that would blow my mind. All I wanted was an address, no other info. We ended up at ‘The Power Exchange”. If you’re familiar with this place now, understand that it was very different 12 or 13 years ago when I first went. I’ll describe it:

The Power Exchange was a live sex/BDSM kink club. The first room we walked into, hearing loud music coming from somewhere beyond, was a medieval themed room with a big wooden table & fireplace…and a huge viking looking man flogging a women tied to a cross…her male partner on the other side of the cross kissing her and stimulating her front. It was a powerful introduction and I watched in awe for the first time, someone being flogged and whipped. Each time she was struck her body moved so beautifully.

We continued on and each room we entered offered more to overload my senses. Cages, peep holes, a room full of TV’s playing porn movies, people masturbating, people fucking, people watching, people being Dominated…a women lying on a bed with about a dozen men fondling her…eventually we came across a scene that many others were watching. A beautiful woman was tied to a cross being punished by a somewhat mean looking man dressed all in leather. She was instructed to explain to the crowd why she was being punished: she had burnt his toast that morning. A rumble of laughter went through the crowd and I smiled too. That’s when he looked directly at me and asked if I wanted to come into the scene.

I didn’t even turn to look at my poor, freaked out friend, I just slide under the chain and into their space. They both quickly explained that this was all consensual, explained safe words, etc. He handed me a vibrator and instructed me to touch it to the cloths pegs that were attached all over her nipples, breasts and pussy. I loved the way she reacted. She was very animated & vocal. She kept looking me in the eye and smiling between screams of pain. He then put a rubber glove on my hand, lubed me up and instructed me to fist her. I did and it was like having the whole world in my hand. By now the crowd had grown to dozens, all watching the naive newbie play in public for the first time. I must have been quite the sight.

I realize at this point I have your full attention but I also understand that attention spans are short these days so I will leave it there for now and continue later. There is more, oh-so-much more *grin*.

MistressT Femdom Fetish Goddess in red & black

Decending into the depths of depraivity

Reaching way back…

The beginning seems to be the appropriate place to start with this tale.

I was raised in rural Nova Scotia, Canada. I was surrounded by farms and apple trees. I had a poor upbringing but all my basic needs were covered. My parents did the best they could with what they had. My grandparents helped out when things got really tough. I went to church but never liked it. I did well in school but was rarely pressured to do better. I was socially awkward and lonely as a youngster. I was always more drawn to adults/teachers than to my peers. I was bullied or ignored by kids my own age. I never felt like I belonged there. When I grew up I wanted to be an accomplished actress or singer…but I never wanted to be so famous that I would appear in tabloids or be recognized when in public.

I competed in public speaking and usually won. I took every opportunity to be in school plays or anything just to get up in front of a crowd of people. My cousins & I used to put together little performances for our families. I’ve always been an exhibitionist and performer.

I was always good at making and saving money. I created or found small jobs around the community to get paid for, I babysat, worked on farms, house sat, cleaned people’s houses, etc. When I was 15 I rolled and sold single cigarettes to other students at school. I never smoked myself. Jobs fell in my lap as well. At 15/16 I was offered a job in an optical store where my Mother was buying glasses. I worked there on and off for a year making a few dollars more than minimum wage. It was a grown up job and I was proud to have it.

When I was in my early teens my stable and fairly normal family life started to change. With my older brother and I becoming old enough to be more independent my Mother started to live her life again and she was not happy with my Father. It took a few years of drama but they finally divorced when I was 16. I was closest with my Mother so I moved to Halifax with her which was a significant event in my life. I became a city girl and was introduced to all kinds of new people and experiences.

I did not fit in at my new school and I spent most of grade 11 going to bars and partying with girls from another school. My Mother and I were more like friends and I had all the freedom of an adult. No discipline or pressure to do well in school. I was friendly with my teachers and worked in the cafeteria at school. I received very high grades in English and even tutored ESL students in Shakespeare. English wasn’t their first language so Shakespeare seemed impossible to them but I would act out all the roles for them until they understood and at least brought their grades up from failing to passing.

In my final year, grade 12, I hated going to school. I had no friends my age in the school I went to. I still partied a lot but I also had two other part time jobs outside of my cafeteria job. I worked at a coffee shop and at a fancy ladies shop in the most posh hotel in town. I missed a lot of classes for work and at the end of the year found myself dangerously close to not graduating. It was all reliant on one class: computer science. I had failed everything in that class all year. I had been attracted to the teacher from that class and had had an awkward experience with him months earlier. He had been tutoring me in math and I started sweating so much I was leaving wet finger marks on the paper. The sweat was just pouring off of me. I thought it was because of hormones…I’m not sure what he thought but he gave me one of his clean t-shirts to wear instead of my knit sweater. It was thrilling wearing his shirt. It felt naughty. That night I became very ill and realized I had been sweating because I had a fever! After a couple of days home sick I returned his t-shirt, clean & folded.

The night before the exam I was at the bar with my girlfriend. There was no point in studying, I was going to fail and probably go to summer school. I felt a hand on my shoulder and my last name in my ear followed by “studying hard for that exam tomorrow I see!”. I turned to see that teacher smiling as he walked away. I nearly threw up. My heart was pounding. I was drinking underage in a bar and I had screwed up. I went after him, found him and offered to buy him a drink (cheeky, hm?). He put his arm around me and said to his friend: “This is my favorite student.” I was shocked as I figured he thought I was a stupid dork. I then explained that there was no point in me studying as we both knew I didn’t have a hope of passing the exam…and it would mean summer school for me. He then advised me to write the exam as if I knew every answer. To hold my head up and look confident. He didn’t need anybody asking him any questions when I passed.

I learned a valuable lesson that night.

MistressT brat schoolgirl fetish photo

Not my official school uniform