We’re not honest enough.

A lot of it has to do with our modern society; they way we hole ourselves up or pile into shiny metal boxes, contestants in a suicidal race. (Thank you, Sting.*) We all want love, companionship, to be understood, and affiliated with something. We seek to belong — even if we can’t admit it. Sometimes, and most often, to ourselves.

I hope you’re enjoying our Podcast. I’ve noticed a theme among the episodes: the dispelling of many myths in BDSM or the alternative lifestyles in general, and we’ll continue to do that. Especially femdom. There’s a tonne of myths surrounding the practise of a female-led relationship. Female supremacy is a big one. I know it gets a lot of subby boys hard, but I can’t be down with something that’s obviously false just because it has arousing capabilities. I wouldn’t be me.

That’s actually what I’m here to share with you today. Some stuff you may not know about me. While Mister P breathes into my ear how powerful I am while my strap-on is plunged deep into him, the truth is, power is relative and circumstantial. I may carry myself with an air of self-sufficiency and the knowledge that I have just as much right to be here that anyone else does, but I worry. I get scared. I can be driven to tears — though, rarely ever in the company of someone else. I do have my pride — whatever the hell that means. There are days I want nothing more than to throw my arms around Mister P when he gets home and curl up next to him on our sofa while he surveys his stock portfolio. It can feel like one of the most peaceful places on earth to me. If I can’t get to sleep, just the steady and rhythmic beating of his heart can lull me to dreamland — arriving with warm, fuzzy thoughts. I jest that my body has come to interpret his arm across my torso as we sleep as a ‘nightmare guard’, as I’ve woken short of breath to find that he’s turned over on his side at some point during the night — which, strangely enough, doesn’t happen if I wake to find I’m still nuzzled against his forearm. I may be a dominant woman, but I’m also a human being.

I realise this isn’t something you want to hear, since it continues to shatter those myths you hold so dear. (Hey, I rhymed.)

Dommes need subs. (more…)

Like anything, BDSM has its own terminology, and as such, there are many terms for what it is I am: female dominant, domme, and domina seem to top the list. And, while we aren’t the majority, I have met some wonderful fellow dommes, dominas, and fem-dommes. I’ve also seen plenty similarly identifying for which I find the moniker indeed questionable. So, in a concise manner, I’m going to share my thoughts on this marketing phenomenon; perhaps, even concluding with my assumptions for it being the way it is.

While phone sex lines are perennial, phone domination, or ‘phone dommes’ are very much en vogue at current. Does this mean that there’s increased ease of finding a genuine female dominant or professional dominatrix at the end of the line? I remain sceptical. While there’s a good number of us pro-dommes hanging out on such third party services in our off-hours, (I have an account with NiteFlirt), the bulk of the listings are barely legal bottle-blonde with IQs to match their body weight. Hordes of ‘bratty princesses’ with stereotypical head cheerleader dispositions wear slutty clothes in demeaning poses, with market-ready femdom phrases, but deplorable grammar and not a spell-checker in sight. (It’s ‘dominant’, honey, not ‘dominate’. But don’t worry — you aren’t.) It almost seems a joke with how much these photographs have nothing to do with the femdom-centric phrasing.

And a word on age. I’m a young domme, and I’ve got a decade on these girls. (more…)

Sometimes, I seriously wonder about people. What they’re honestly thinking. I mean, I was born in the morning, but it wasn’t this one. Although, I don’t really find this applicable in my everyday existence, what’s kept me from being a card-carrying member of MENSA is the fact that I couldn’t reconcile forking over the dough. In other words, I’m a genius. Changes nothing, and really more a bit of trivia than anything. Still, the length to which people go to try and fool me, or believe that they have, never fails to amaze me.

Case in point: the email I receive. Some of it has a distinct trend; if it’s not from a BMF, or likely to result in a satisfying new professional relationship, I immediately begin to detect the foul stench of bullshit — the worst kind, too; that which has been perfumed and disguised as as to appear like anything but the steaming pile of crap it is.

Most of the time, it’s harmless. Lonely men incapable of drawing the line between reality and fantasy, or all out preferring that it remain blurred at best. No matter how truly fantastic the claims may be. This is why I suspect they’ve come to me already in-role, presenting fantasy as if it were reality. It’s a delicate dance, though. Should they not be nursing some latent psychosis, they always know on some level that I can’t possibly be buying this. You’ve all seen it before, too: 24/7 relationships. Victims of blackmail. His wife, instead of being traumatised by finding her husband with another woman, joining forces with the offending party to punish said philandering husband for the rest of his days, engaging in subbie-hubbie wetdream fantasyland. (more…)

Mistress Roulette and I knew this was a scam from the get-go, but here’s a post from a Mystressworld insider revealing that the website had no intention of ever matching submissive men to dominant women. Instead, it was just looking to cash in on the fantasy. I’ve very proud of the controversial stance that Mistress Roulette took. It always feels good to be vindicated.

What follows is the entire text of what this Mistress wrote for those who want to read it. (more…)