Mistress Wynter

Right!

2010-12-16T18:22:00.002-05:00

Off to take my actual last final exam of the semester. I still have one paper due saturday, but as far as testing... this is the last one!

Which is to say that I expect you subs who have NOT worked with me and my new schedule to use the next three weeks to get your asses in here to see me before the next semester starts. Honestly... you all PROMISED you'd be all kinds of flexible in scheduling but you really weren't. tut tut.

And for the future... when I give you my schedule and tell you when I'm available, I'm not playing around. Work with me here!

For the next couple of weeks, until late January, I'm much more available. You're welcome!

I'll blog like a real person after Saturday. Oh... and I just got the results from the final I took this morning... a 92! I'm awesome. :)

And I really really need to put the hurt on my subs. I miss you! Fix that!

No words...

2010-10-20T01:44:00.002-04:00

for so long, and I apologize. I knew that school would be time consuming, but I just didn't really understand what that meant. It means I've had to refuse sessions because my schedule is no longer my own. It means I've been more remiss than usual with emails. It means I've ignored my two boards, more to my own dismay than anyone elses, I'm sure. But it's bothering me, you know?

I want to move into Forensic Psychology. I do. But I don't want to do it at the expense of my Wynter Kingdom of Goodness and Evil. I just made that up, but that's cool, right? I miss my boys. I miss my girls. I miss my friends. I want to play, but I really, truly, honestly can't do it easily right now... I need to be at the top of my game to get the A's I want in school. I mean otherwise... why the hell go, right? If I'm going to just scrape by, why fucking bother?

Which is to say that I am thinking of all of you. And I need to get my kinky thoughts back on paper, as it were. But I need to find a way to do the kink, the school, the life, the sessions, and god forbid... get a little of my own personal life in there as well. It's tricky. I'll figure it out soon enough!

But if you're reading and wondering 'why, when CAN I see the wonderful Wynter???', here's what I can tell you. I can't session on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I just can't. So be kind and WORK WITH ME HERE!!!! Try to get me on a Monday or Friday after 5 pm, or Wednesday and Sunday pretty much anytime. (I have Saturday class too. Yep. A long-ass Saturday class. blergh.) And each of my professors are firm believers in as much homework and as many tests as humanly possible, so you know... if I seem short on time for chitty-chat on the phone, it's because I actually am.

All good and clear now? Excellent.

Plus, I outed myself to my sociology Professor... I need to do it in order to perform well on a particular essay on her exam. I got a 95 on the exam so YEAH! Outing is good! :) I think she wants to have a long sit-down with me now, so I'll see what comes of that when the class ends. Tee! Funny stuff! Thank heavens I'm all comfortable in my kink, or god only knows how the essay would have come out.

Ok. Love you all more than candy. Send me encouraging emails and get your asses into the dungeon already! Just because I've said no recently isn't personal, you know. Keep trying! I really really really want to hurt you. I promise.

The "other ways for Wynter to make money" post.

2010-09-03T02:29:00.006-04:00

I'm doing something new. 2 things, actually.

First, I have decided that I will be the source of your dirty little stories. Catered to YOU! Contact me and let me know where your interests lie, a little about what makes you churn deep inside and (for a price, obviously!) I'll write a delicious story about you and your dark little secrets. I know. It's very special! Practically the best thing in the world, actually. And it'll be worth keeping for posterity. I'll be the modern Anais Nin, writing for rent money. :)

Second, I'm going to be doing phone consultations directly with YOU, with no nasty little company in the middle to decide where to put my listing, or that I don't pay enough attention to them to make it into the top few pages of listings. SCREW THAT. You've heard rumours about my voice and its special seductive qualities, you know you want to have long and rambling conversations with me and pick my brain and hear tales of submissions and demands for yours... contact me via email and we'll make something good happen. No, not for free! Goodness! AND finally, I'm going to be setting up a referral service for clients in good standing in the community who are interested in up an appointment with a Mistress for the first time. Email me for details.

School is so getting in the way of my session time, but I don't want to totally deprive the world of my special brand of thought.

And yeah, of course I'm still sessioning. It's just harder now for me to make my schedule work with yours. You know how it goes. Ptooey.

I hope this doesn't come across as being 'all about the money' god forbid... but the landlord doesn't seem the least bit impressed that I'm pursuing a full course load at college. And I do have some very specific talents, after all...

Wonderful meetings and good things

2010-08-27T18:24:00.002-04:00

I had the opportunity to host Eve Minax while she was in NYC, and let me just tell you... if you have a chance to be in San Francisco, you absolutely should see her. Not only is she amazingly skilled and a truly fun sadist, but she's a wonderful human being to top it all. It was a happy meeting for me, and I already miss having her here. Ms. Minax, if you're reading, please... come back soon!

I also got a chance, while Minax was here, to spend some time with Ms. Troy Orleans. It had been too long, and it was nice to get back on the same page with her, just reminiscing and bitching and laughing and enjoying time together. I'm glad of having the chance to hang out with her. MTO, if you're reading... I'll see you Sunday at Aarkey's dinner!

I believe there are a couple of other readers who I will be meeting on Sunday for the first time... we've talked about making it happen but it looks like Aarkey will be the one to pull it together. Thankees, Mr. Aarkey! Can't wait to see you!

I just started school this week... I know! Things I've noticed. 1)I'm way old. 2)Everyone thinks I'm a teacher. 3) Yay! I'm a student again!!!! 4)Things are very different than they used to be.

I was in class yesterday listening with mouth agape as the teacher explained that she didn't want the students texting, talking on the phone, twittering, sleeping, talking to their neighbors, missing classes, walking out in the middle of class to answer their phones (!), waiting a couple of weeks after missing an exam to try to make it up unless they were actually in a coma, plagiarism... the list goes on. And I thought to myself... really? Isn't all of this self-explanatory? Just how entitled do kids feel that they have to be TOLD not to do these things? I just blinked at her and shook my head sadly. And that is how I realized 1) I'm way old.

I have been having such good play lately. It's been favorite maso after favorite maso for the last two weeks or so... which means... I'M RUNNING OUT OF FAVE MASO'S!!!! Ya'll better start the cycle again if you want to support me in my school-daze. And I know you do!

Finally... Are you following Diaries of the Diabolical? If you aren't, why the hell not? It's the blog of the Violent Fems, of which I am a proud member. You should also look at our webpage (violentfems.com) because I bloody said so! We're doing a party on September 12th that will afford all you lucky blokes and blokettes to meet us all, and those of you who are clever enough to rsvp for it will even get a public beatdown from our gang of evil girls. I KNOW! How lucky can you get?

That's it for today. I am hoping that the new study mindset I'm falling into will afford me better opportunities to blog... I mean, I have to write anyway, right? But I hope that you all know that I think about blogging every day. I don't do it, but I absolutely think about it!

Kisses to all of you. Please feel free to regale me with tales of how you miss me. I'm a big fan of that.

Roleplaying the Wynter out of Wynter

2010-08-03T16:47:00.003-04:00

As you all probably know, I love to session. I enjoy being in control of how another person feels, I treasure how your time with me affects the rest of your day (or week or month... depending!). I love to watch a sub react to the things I do or say; I deeply enjoy being the treasure trove of your kink, expanding our repertoire of play, causing more pain, ferreting out more secrets and using those secrets against you, the sharing of dark pleasures, the dance between top and bottom, the give and take and give and take until both parties realize that time has both stopped and raced by and that all other issues in the world are, for the time being, of absolutely no importance. All that matters is what we are doing, cause and effect, need and absolution. It is a gift to be shared completely, to be taken from your partner and given back in kind. There really isn't anything else quite like it.

I also enjoy the process of learning my sub, finding those buttons, pushing them lightly or pressing on them like crazy until I learn all I can about the person under my control. Smiling as you react, grinning at your discomfort, laughing at your pain. It is a shared process and that is why I love it so much.

It is also why I have issues with overly detailed session requests, why role-play is not on my list of favorite activities. It puts a level of falsehood around our time together. It limits my ability to learn you and to push you in areas that you may not have thought about. It inhibits my ability to stop playing and simply watch your eyes as you react, to know that you are right at your limit and then to just push a tiny bit more until you are over the edge and fine with it, thrilled to be past where you've ever been before, bliss and joy and tears and love filling your eyes. To script your time with me is to take away my ability to create those moments.

Of course roleplay is fun, but only to a degree... after that, let me out of that little character you've created in your mind or you'll never fully understand why a session with me is a session with ME as opposed to a cookie cutter session easily filled in by any Domme in any town at any time. Don't tell me how many of each stroke with each implement, don't tell me what you expect to happen. Why do you need me at all for that? I mean, really, won't anybody do?

Quick updates and hi!

2010-08-01T16:35:00.003-04:00

And then life, vanilla flavored and insistent, charges in.

Good, bad, beautiful, ugly - it is what it is and it gets in the way sometimes of trying to stay on top of the multitude of non-'nilla flavored fun. Feh. Whatcha gonna do, right?

On the good and beautiful, I am going back to school in August to my great joy. I've run into problem after problem with registering, but finally all has come together and I'll be sinking my teeth into a school curriculum very soon. I can't wait, and at the same time I think to myself... how the hell does one study? I haven't studied in a formal way in so many years that I worry I've forgotten the basics. I haven't taken a test, or sat in class, or had to have someone else's ideas take precedence over my own in ... hell. In a damned long time. I know I can do it, but how the hell do I do it, you know? Plus the fact that my schedule is getting ready to change massively, and that will certainly affect income and playtime... gah! Oh, the good and the bad, right?

Let's not even start in on the horrible man my mother calls her husband and his methodical destruction of her happiness, safety and personal comfort. No no... we shan't go there.

On the happy side... birthday time approaches! I have no wishlist... just send cash. School requires it! ;)

Love and kisses and smacks and spanks,
Me.

OMG, I have been so gone from here!!!

2010-06-29T02:00:00.002-04:00

Sorry, I got pissy and then I forgot to come back! I'm back.

I'm going frickin' nuts over here with the renewing of the argument that Dommes are hookers, how dare we say we're not, and what kind of self-respecting sub would ever go see a domme who didn't consider herself to be on par, at best, with the practicing prostitute.

OMG SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

When I started back in 'the day', as it's known, houses forced the dommes who worked there to perform ickified rituals that they were none too happy to do. If a domme neglected or refused said acts, she was either taken off the schedule or was FINED for not wanting to do something against her will. And I ought to bloody know.

Yeah, nothing more dominant than being forced to give a hand job. It doesn't matter that the sub WANTED one, it was a horror for the ladies. And so, slowly but surely, the ladies refused. We made our beliefs matter. And as more ladies refused to do what they didn't want to do, as dominant women are known to do, the rules changed. Praise god almighty, a domme wasn't forced to perform acts that made her feel bad about herself.

It was a fucking battle, it was long fought and hard won and if you don't like it, too fucking bad. If you want to experience sex and s/m, no one in the world is stopping you from seeing a kinky escort. NO ONE. And we're happy that you can find folks to fulfill your needs. But don't pine away for the days when you got a fucking happy ending at a dungeon. Ewwww. And btw... you guys were the ones who had to walk on those carpets. The ladies ALWAYS wore shoes. Just sayin.

Nekkid Domming

2010-04-30T22:22:00.003-04:00

Yeah, yeah, I know, we're all adults and whatever people want to do in sessions is utterly and completely up to them and all opinions on nudity or sex or boundary-crossing are always wrong so I shouldn't push my nose in where it isn't wanted and I'm unbearably old-fashioned and clearly jealous of the naked-for-cash Dommes or I wouldn't even say this so OMG Wynter sucks and how dare she????

I hope that satisfied all the folks who police the scene to tell people with opinions that they aren't allowed to have opinions. I believe I've covered all the bases.

This is my opinion. And my blog. So avert your eyes if you don't want to know what I think, or read on and allow that I have the right to my opinion. On my blog. In my world. Promise I won't come wandering into your dungeon demanding that you abide by my thoughts.

Right.

Obviously, if you want to be naked, you're gonna get naked and that's that. And if you're a happy naked Domme who is naked because you just looooove being naked and even if a client specifically didn't want you naked you'd get naked anyway because fuck that, I'm the Domme, and session time is naked time... more power to you. In fact, if clients request that you wear clothing, and you charge them more because that goes against the happy naked Domme ideal that you subscribe to, well... rock on with your bad self!

If, however, nudity is not the norm, but it is available for a certain amount of money, you're not happy naked Domme. You're money-is-more-important-than-my-ideals Domme, and in my always-correct-from-where-I-sit position, that makes you a little less of a Domina than you should be. It makes you a little more of a lap-dance-'domme' than you should be happy with. Ala carte clothing optional pricing puts the power of your comfort and your rules in the hands of the client who comes in with extra cash. IT WEAKENS YOU. That's right. I said it.

Nekkid is only powerful when you are powerful. If your breasts are a commodity that can be purchased by anyone who is willing to fork over money, and your pussy and ass are also there for juuuuust a little more cash, and hey! if you really have enough green, worship whatever you want and I'll pretend that I'm making you do it, this is not dominant behavior. If you sell your body and/or beliefs, you won't remain happy for long. In the long run, you KNOW you're gonna feel fucking creepy about selling your pussy to the highest bidder.

And you know I'm right.

AND:

If you begin removing your clothes because you don't have the creativity to be able to be in control of a session and you just can't figure out what to do next so what the hell, I'll just wiggle my tits in his face and make him jerk off and I'm so strong look at me I'm the bestest Domme in the whole world cuz I have boobs... you're in the wrong business in the first place. Domination is about control and creativity and exploring taboos and boundaries within the context of S/m. If you don't know how to conduct a session from beginning to end, and must use nudity as a last resort, you should start practicing saying 'would you like fries with that' because you are not long for this business.

A hot session is a hot session, boundaries get crossed sometimes just because they do. But crossing those boundaries should NOT be a menu item and should NOT be used because you have no idea how to control a session. If you feel the overwhelming urge to play outside the lines because you suddenly have an urge, that's one thing. If you do something for money that you would never do for free... well, that makes you less than a Domme, in my book.

And don't even get me started on hand jobs!!!

Thoughts in my Dommesphere

2010-04-17T23:34:00.003-04:00

Here's some of the stuff that's been preoccupying me lately.
a) that frickin' book
b) naked domming
c) shifting personas.

That's right. I'll be tackling them one at a time in an orderly fashion so that I will keep from ranting (today anyway) about the stupid stuff that somehow manages to surround me on a daily basis.

Keep in mind that this may sound like a rant.

a).
That Frickin' Book.
Here's the deal. Don't care that the author was a junkie - it happens, and we know it happens because every time some domme gets better, she likes to make a big fucking announcement about it, as if S/m and speedballing in the bathroom are a natural coupling. They aren't.

Some people like to play, some people like to do drugs, some people like to do both and some people (tut tut!!!!) like to do them at the same time. That's risky and stupid and everyone is lucky that nobody got seriously hurt. But HERE is what bothers me: she discusses other Dommes as if their stories were hers to tell. They aren't. She didn't and doesn't have the right to share the secrets of people who considered her a friend. There are a million guys out there, any one of them could be the vaguely-outed clients she speaks of - yes, perhaps some of the ladies who read the book could recognize the players, but in the general public the chances of being recognized are pretty fucking slim. BUT for every kajillion joes out there, there are only a handful of Dommes. Talk about them and they are recognized. Individually. With their stories and lives that are not any-fucking-body-elses business unless they are invited into the know. See what I'm saying here? You want to tell your story, tell your story. As soon as you drag other ladies into the mix, you push the boundaries of decency and certainly loyalty and friendship. I'm surprised there wasn't more outrage about that, to be honest. But hey... who cares about Dommes as people anyway, right? We're all fodder and bullshit and lies, right?

Fuck that.

Makes me feel pretty cautious about talking to anyone, I tell you. Lord knows that at some point in the future, regardless of how they proclaim that they are really into this, no, honest, I really am and would never use any of you to further myself and I can totally be trusted, totally... someone I consider(ed) a friend will write some slick little lie of a book and I'd just as soon NOT see my life portrayed in someone elses words. Got a story to tell? Make the hell sure it's your own.

That's enough not-ranting for the day. I'll get to b) and c) in my next blog. Probably.

MASOCAST

2010-04-06T00:41:00.001-04:00

My interview with masocast just went up. It was really fun to make and really fun to listen to! So, yeah. go listen!!!!

www.masocast.com

It's right at the top of the page. Yay!

Favorite review in ages. Yay!

2010-03-26T19:53:00.001-04:00

As I write this, the effects of Saturday's session still linger. There are surprisingly few visible marks; a patch of pinkness inside my right thigh, which may or may not deepen. A spot or two of scab on my bottom . There is some thickening of my skin here and there on the backs of my thighs and my butt. The burning has mostly gone from my mouth, though there are scrapes here and there.

I'd had a hell of a month before the session. I manage a group of talented prima donnas, and getting the most out of them is not an easy thing. I want to do right by them, and also get value for my company, and my service nature makes it very hard when they're mad at me, which they always are. Work has been miserable.

But the week before the session, I'd been on vacation for a week, at cooking school in upstate New York. While it was great to be away from work, it kept me very busy. So by the time I got into the city for my session, I was more relaxed, but had spent very little time anticipating what would happen, or preparing myself mentally.

So I found myself walking over to Wonderland, knowing I was going to have a fantastic time but not nearly as keyed up as I had been for my first session, which we'd prepared for intensely. I was fairly calm, and quietly looking forward to what she had in mind. My lips were a little dry, and I wished for some chapstick. I should have done something about that, as it turned out.

Mistress Wynter buzzed me in, and led me with a big smile into the dungeon. She left me to wait for a bit, and then returned. She was rather scantily dressed, and I rather enjoyed the view of her calves and thighs, as well as the cleavage on display. And of course the pleasure in her eyes--I've never played with anyone who has as much fun in session as she does.

I had brought her a couple small gifts for the session. A compact, heavy wooden spoon from cooking school, and a big bar of soap. She immediately tried the spoon on my palms; it hurt delightfully! The soap she set aside for later.

Mistress Wynter explained to me that today she would beat me over my pants first, because she wanted to get some deep bruising going without any damage to my skin, so that she could hurt me longer. Then she told me she had something to do, and left me with instructions to be waiting for her in pants and underpants only. I was soon partially undressed, kneeling and waiting for her return.

She came back with a small bar of soap, and showed it to me. The word, "Ellen" was carved deeply into the soap. "Your Mistress told me you sometimes answer her back," Ms Wynter said, "so today, when I soap your mouth, we're going to keep going until her name is gone, to teach you not to do that." I smiled, and thanked her.

She had me lie face down on her bondage bench, and put the soap in front of me. "You can look at that while I beat you," she said.

And beat me she did. She used many heavy implements; wooden rods, paddles of various materials, a heavy strip of stainless steel with holes drilled in it. It hurt, but my pants took the edge of the sting. I kept my head down, trying not to look at the implements she was choosing, just accepting the blows and the pain.

One of the paddles she used, made of Corian, the countertop material, wasn't equal to her strength, and broke on my behind. We both had a good laugh over that!

After she'd had enough of that, she had me take off my pants. I took my heavy leather belt off first, and laid it on a table, then removed my pants and folded them and put them away. The belt is one I bought years ago before my first session with Mistress Ellen ( MW's note: Mistress Ellen owns etienne, and bless her for letting him play with me! ). I love belts; they always draw my eye if I see them on a woman, and my secret fantasy is for her to take off her belt and beat me with it. I'm also happy to be beaten with my own, but that's a surprisingly rare thing.

This next part of the session was intense, and my memory is accordingly weaker and more confused. There was so much pain to process that I can't remember it very well. I do remember a delicious selection of straps being used, from various angles, all over my bottom. I remember a glorious moment when Ms Wynter announced she would use my own belt on me, and then she proceeded to beat me with it very very hard, harder than it's ever been used on me before. It made explosive cracking noises with every blow.

While I was still trying not to watch, I did see her from time to time from the corner of my eye. With many of these straps, she would hold the handle in her right hand, the tip in her left, raise them high over her head and then bring them in a vicious arc.

When I'm given a hard strapping like that, strange images flash through my head. I think of being basted with pain. I think of being wrapped in warm blankets of hurt. I feel hugged with punishment. I was in ecstasy, begging "please, please, please, please" (for her to continue), moaning out "Yes, Ma'am".

She also chose some canes, and used those on me, and a decidedly wonderful synthetic birch that made my butt and thighs sing.

She grabbed my inner thighs with her hands, and squeezed and twisted--excruciating, difficult pain.

Occasionally, when it really hurt, I got loud. After one such time, she said, "You're being too loud. And when you're too loud, I'm going to gag you with the soap. Open!" I opened my mouth, and she put the soap in. It didn't taste too bad at first, but I knew that wouldn't last.

After beating me for a while more, she removed the soap. I couldn't help but swallow a little of the soapy saliva, and it burned on its way down my throat. There was much much more of that to come!

At another point, my feet came up off the table. "I you keep those feet down, or I'll have to restrain them," she warned. "Besides, if you move them, you draw my attention to them, and then I may have to hit them." Which she, of course, proceeded to do.

Eventually, she sprayed some alcohol on my bottom, and had me turn over. She began giving the insides of my thighs some attention, with straps and wooden spoon. O my that hurt, and the soap went back into my mouth a second time, burning again on its removal.

She often paused, to stroke me, or switch sides, or say how much fun she was having. Whenever she did, I would look at her and smile, the broad smile of pain-drunk joy that a good beating puts on my face.

At last, she'd had enough of beating me (at least for the moment). She took me firmly and a little painfully by the ear (heaven!), told me to pick up the soap, and dragged me out of the dungeon, still by my ear, and down the hall to the bathroom. "I'm going to get this soap on your *tonsils*!" she announced.

Now, soap is a long-running fantasy for me, and I've played with it before. The experiences varied from a vanilla woman who would squirt soap on my toothbrush but refused to watch, to Mistress Ellen, who finds it great fun and is quite enthusiastic about it, and points in-between.

What I was about to get was quite different. Ms Wynter clearly *loves* mouthsoaping, quite as much or even more than I do. We'd been looking forward to this moment for a year (as it had been discussed as a possibility before our first session), but I don't think either of us quite understood just how good it was going to be.

"Stick out your tongue." she ordered. I did, and she rubbed to soap on it. It takes a little while for the taste to build, so it wasn't so bad right away. Nonetheless, as she rubbed, my tongue retracted a little. "I said, STICK OUT YOUR TONGUE!" she barked at me. This was a new Mistress Wynter--she was preemptory, nearly seeming angry. Looking in her eyes, I could see lust and excitement, and I melted.

I stuck my tongue out and she rubbed. Then she ran water into a washcloth, soaped it up, and proceeded to scrub my tongue with it. Now things were getting seriously unpleasant; the soap trickled to the back of my mouth and burned down my throat. The taste was strong and foul in my mouth. The lather was everywhere.

"Spit it out," she ordered, and I did.

She showed me the bar of soap. It still said, "Ellen", very clearly indeed. "Wow, I sure carved that in deep, didn't I? Too bad for you!" "Mmmm, thank you, Mistress!" was my reply.

She resoaped the cloth and went back to work. She soaped my tongue, my gums, and reached far enough back in my throat to make me gag, occasionally barking "Open!" or "Stick out your tongue!" I watched her face as best I good, taking in her dilated pupils and wide eyes (no doubt matching my own), each of us feeding off the perverse pleasure of the other.

I've had people ask me what having my mouth soaped is like. Obviously, it tastes bad. Awful. It also burns, especially in the throat. It's also a traditional punishment (though not one my parents used). All of that makes it enormously appealing to me. I love suffering for a Lady, and I love traditional punishments.

Another aspect of it that I love is that it is very intense sensation. I have no choice but to be utterly, completely in the moment. There is no commentary in my head, nothing but the present.

It's done face-to-face. The sense of connection with the punisher is immense; we are nearly as close as for a kiss, and that's intoxicating. I can look into her eyes, and read the thoughts and feelings there. In Ms Wynter's case, those thoughts and feelings were frightening in their intensity, but so sweet in their character. Intense need to punish me, intense need to have me at her will, and intense satisfaction in having both those needs satisfied.

But that doesn't quite explain it all. There's one more thing that makes it such a great activity for me. I am a very oral person. I love food (I'd just got done with a week of cooking school, after all), and I love to eat. I also love oral sex--giving (if I never got it again, it wouldn't bother me at all). When I see a pretty woman, I don't think of what it would be like to fuck her. I never fantasize about that. No, what I fantasize about is having my mouth on her, having my face between her breasts, buttocks, or thighs.

Stimulating my face is very erotic for me. I love face-slapping as a result. But this is so much more; her hand is *in my mouth*. Not only that, but she's feeding me, filling my mouth. Sure, it tastes bad; but it's still something she's putting in my mouth. It's very much like she's ejaculating, feeding me her fluid of punishment and suffering.

It's so very sexy.

After having me spit again, she said, "Open!" I did, and she put the bar of soap back in my mouth. "Bite it." she ordered. I bit down. "Open!" she removed the soap, examined it, and exclaimed "I TOLD you to BITE it. Do you see any bite marks there?" and back into my mouth it went. This time, I bit down, reveling in the nastiness of it, hoping it coated my teeth, praying I didn't break it.

This time, she was satisfied with my bite, and went back to soaping her washcloth. After sudsing me well, she told me to lean my head back, and the foam trickled down my throat. She added a little foam from the soft soap dispenser; which had a sweet, flowery taste. It was nearly pleasant after the bar she'd been using, and I was very glad she'd used the bar for the main event.

Eventually, she left me to rinse. After rinsing, I realized things had changed.

First of all, I was incredibly turned on. I don't usually get that way during sessions. It's not just that my middle-aged penis needs some kind touch to get hard, though it usually does. It's more that I just don't think sexually during sessions. I'm there for the Lady to enjoy, to experience punishment, to feel joy in pain. Not to orgasm.

However, I had the strongest impulse now to masturbate. I wanted so very much to just reach down and get busy. That's *never* happened to me in session before.

I had my second surprise when she returned. I wanted to kiss her.

Naturally, I took neither of those highly inappropriate actions, but it fascinated me that I even had the urges!

She took me back to the dungeon to beat me again. Now, I no longer looked obediently into the bench or at the ceiling. Now, I kept my eyes on her, watching the muscles in her arm, watching her hands. Drinking her in, the connection even stronger than before.

She beat me for a good while longer, but I can't pretend to have any memory of with what or where or what she said. I know the pain continued, and the pleasure in the pain. A Lady punishing me, both of us happy that it be so.

She stopped. "It's time to get dressed now, and we're going to dinner. Then we'll come back and play some more."

She left. I dressed. We walked to dinner.

Just as our appetizer appeared, Mme Veronica arrived. I hadn't expected her to be so pretty. She is tall with very white skin and very dark hair, and lovely glasses that make her look like all the schoolteachers I've ever fantasized about.

We had a very nice dinner and good conversation. I was a little surprised to find myself embarrassed as Ms Wynter described our session. I know Mme Veronica is into BDSM, I know she knew I was, and yet--it was still very like being outed to a stranger. I felt a little humiliated, a little shame. It was *hot*.

Ms Wynter had hinted that Mme Veronica might come back for our little nightcap, and so I was not entirely surprised when she did. When we got back to the dungeon. the two Ladies sat down in a back room to chat. Unsure of what to do, I stood for a moment. "You go wait in the dungeon!" Ms Wynter called out to me, and so scurried into the dungeon, tail between my legs, left out of the conversation. I can't handle much humiliation, but this was just a little taste, and it was delicious!

I knelt and waited for the Ladies to enter the dungeon. After some time, they did. I was soon naked again, and displaying my redness and swellings and marks to Mme Veronica. I was expected back and front, ending up face-up on the table. Mme Veronica rested her hands on my thighs, admiring the marks the wooden spoon had made.

And then she raised her hand and spanked my inner thigh. I howled! Mme Veronica has long, strong hands, and she can hit very hard with them! I've only had two other Ladies spank me so hard with their hands. I can only guess that an otk session with her would be like!

The Ladies took turns working on me now. Things were different, though. The two hours that had passed since the first beating had ended had allowed my ardor to dissipate a little, and everything hurt so much more now. There was still pleasure, but now it was harder to find, and I spent a lot of time simply suffering for their pleasure.

"Is it good?" Ms Wynter asked. I hesitated. "*I* am enjoying it so, it's good, right?" she said, and I could not help but agree.

There were, of course, many more transcendent moments. The erotic haze was not entirely gone, and I spent a lot of time watching each of the Ladies. The jiggle of Mme Veronica's breasts as she hit me. As Ms Wynter raised a strap high above her head, a strap which would hurt me very much, there was a clear view of her armpit.

I love armpits. It's not an I-love-stinky thing, though I do love the smells, of sweat or soap or fragrance. It's more a warm, intimate thing. I want to touch with my face, my lips, my tongue, to be enveloped, enclosed; another proxy, I think, for oral sex.

I never ask for or mention such things in session negotiations; I don't feel it's my place to ask for contact, beyond kissing hands or feet.

So imagine my amazement when Mme Veronica volunteered, "I love my armpits--isn't that weird?" She looked at me, expecting, perhaps, for me to laugh. "I'm a *big* fan of armpits," I replied. It was her turn to laugh, and she promptly covered my face with hers!It felt lovely, a little tangy scent and the most delicate little feel of stubble on my lips. I kissed and kissed and enjoyed it very much.

The beating continued for a while, Ms Wynter using some lube on my bottom to help keep the skin from tearing. The Ladies took turns with straps and canes and the synthetic birch.

The buzzer rang. In came Mistress Katya, dressed to the nines for a party. She was wearing a dark wig and colored contacts, and looked like Winona Ryder in some goth movie. She'd gone out of her way to come and say hi, which was very very nice of her!

"You don't like your nipples played with, do you, Étienne?" Ms Wynter asked. "If you like it, then I like it, Mistress," I answered. The three of them took turns pinching and twisting my nipples with their nails. It was exquisitely painful!

Mistress Katya tickled my feet, and I began to laugh. Soon the three of them were at me at once, Ms Katya tickling, Ms Wynter and Ms Veronica pinching. I was ordered to keep my eyes open and look at them while they did it.

Mistress Katya had to say her farewells, and now the evening was drawing close to a close. But there were still some things left to be done.

I was ordered to crawl back to the bathroom. There, Mme Veronica sat on the toilet lid. I knelt in front of her, facing away while she held my head still with her hands for Ms Wynter's soap.

Ms Wynter lathered up the washcloth again, and in it went. More scrubbing, more lather, more burning in my throat. This time, she worked up so much later it was like paste on her hand, and that was incredibly sensual and awful and exciting all at one time. I began to suck and lick at her hands, moaning a little, wishing for more soap, wishing for her fingers to reach the back of my throat,, looking into her excited eyes, obeying her preemptory commands, wanting this experience never to end.

And gagging and retching a little, naturally.

Finally, she was satisfied. I was allowed to rinse, while the Ladies discussed the soaping. I was reeling a bit. My throat was burning, and I felt used up and thoroughly chastened.

"I think you should have a turn," Ms Wynter said to Mme Veronica. "Oh, yes!" was her delighted answer. And so I turned happily to Mme Veronica, once more to have the soapy washcloth scrub out my mouth.

To all good things, the end must come. Another rinse, back to the dungeon, for a little more pain. I was a little shaky now, and very sore. It hurt very much.

Ms Wynter asked me if I was still having fun. I hesitated. "No, I really want to know the truth." So I told the truth. "I'm enduring, at this point, Mistress. It can't all be fun for me; some of it has to be just for you." "I know, and I like that, but I don't want you to just endure too much. We're almost done."

"But I want you to take one more caning. 24 strokes. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I answered. "But please, Ma'am; enjoy them. Make them hard."

She was kinder than my request. I did receive 24 more strokes, in rounds of six. Medium-hard.

And that was all. I gave her a brief back massage, we chatted a while, and then we said our goodbyes. Until next time, of course.

Etienne

Right. About pro-Domme books...

2010-02-22T15:56:00.002-05:00

So a former coworker of mine just had a book published on her past life as a dominatrix. She ended up on the front page of the NY Post with this 'news', which means that either NOTHING criminal/bad/illegal/dangerous/scandalous/tragic or newsworthy happened in NYC over the weekend, or that stupid paper put her on the front page because they are scandalmongers with a fascination for s/m.

I'm guessing the latter.

Unbelievably good advertising, though, so well done! Free front page of a scandal sheet in a major city. It's gold for her.

On the other hand... pro-Dommes across the country shuddered slightly to read the cliche descriptions of horrible perverted freakish men and the ladies who humiliate themselves and blacken their souls to snatch up their money to support a habit while purporting to be dominant Women. *sigh*

I didn't want to shudder. I like the author, and I'm sure that once one has delved into the story there's a lot more to it than the post would have you believe. I'm also sure that the editor(s) molded the book so it's more sellable, more sexy and dirty than real. After all, titillation sells. Still, and even knowing that... I shuddered. Why must a domme be a stereotype? Why must a woman do this as a way to get through school/feed a habit/numb her soul? I don't do it for those reasons. The women I am friends with don't do it for that reason. I know why, but WHY must we be portrayed as victims/moneygrubbers/whores? WHY???

Clearly it's time for Mistress Wynter to publish her memoirs. What do you think? ;)

Things that are good.

2010-02-06T23:38:00.002-05:00

Because my last two blogs are about things that are bad, you see.

Presents on Valentines day, especially when unexpected.

Quickies.

Black eyeliner.

Leather boots. oh, yes.

Tying up a boys balls before going out. Or fucking. Or just tying them up because they're there.

Wild Cherry Seltzer Water.

Brand new brita filters.

Coffee.

Quiet lunch alone at an outdoor cafe with good food and good book.

Loud dinner with friends.

Even louder drinks with pals at Billymarks.

My kittehs, smudge and uzzums.

Caning to blood.

My legs. My eyes. My breasts. My lips. My brain.

Wahl 7 in 1

Sleeping in late.

Horror movies.

My friends.

BOY.

You can share your good things if you'd like. Or you can comment on mine. Or you can totally ignore this post and read the bitchy ones instead. feh.

Hot, heavy, gone.

2010-02-06T23:21:00.002-05:00

Why do subs do this? Why does someone come out of the woodwork with a crazy need to see you, breath taken away by your total awesomeness and stunninglingus (my word!! mine!!! no one shall steal!), email or pm or dm or whatevs 8 or 9 or 10 times in a row and then... VANISH? Still around, still online, still hanging, just... no more communication?

Huh? Why? No session happened so it's not that, Mistress is the picture of good communication blah blah blah and poof. WHY?

HUH?

THIS MAKES ME FUCKING INSANE. And it's why it's hard to get a Mistress to take the time for new subs, ya know?

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarhg.

*end scene*

Soapbox sermon. Do not lie.

2010-01-12T17:27:00.003-05:00

It's easy to say you are something.

It's easy to define yourself in terms that make other people see you in the way you want to be seen. BDSM is a world filled to the absolute brim with terminology and defining phrases that categorize us into easily managed groups. I choose not to define myself and let others decide on their own how I am best described.

However. If you label yourself, and you approach others in the scene wearing this label, you better damn well be able to be what you say you are. You don't get to be a service slave depending on whether or not the Mistress in question is going to be mean enough to you to make you be what you proclaim you are. You don't get to make promises of how amazingly wonderfully helpful you are going to be, and then wait for Mistress to act the way you want her to act so that you will do what you already said you would do. If you want a session, have a session. Don't pretend to want to serve depending on whether or not you'll be treated in a certain way by a Mistress wearing a certain thing on a day that's convenient for you and your whims. Serve or don't serve. But do not lie.

Don't label yourself a hard-core masochist when you are not able to take pain. There is a difference between wanting to be a hard-core masochist and actually being one. Don't wander into a Woman's lair and be surprised when she expects you to be what you said you were. Don't say you want a beating when you really just want to be dressed in panties and given a little spanking. It does no one any good. Say what you are, tell her your hopes and dreams. Explore your boundaries. But do not lie.

Don't say you're an edge Mistress if you've never drawn blood. Watching someone else deliver a bloody caning doesn't mean you're going to be able to do it, and more importantly do it well. Knowing that other Women know how to brand doesn't mean you know how to. If you represent yourself as an expert, you better be able to back it up. So this sermon, while mainly for the subs, is also for the Mistresses. If you don't have a lot of experience in something, admit it. Everyone cannot be an expert in everything. If you don't have years of experience under your belt, don't pretend you do. And if you don't want to do something, don't fucking do it and sure as shit don't say you do and then try to get out of it. See what I'm saying here? Do not lie.

I could go on and on, but I'll taper it off here because I hope my point is made. Be what you are and work toward what you hope to be, but stop lying about it. It just pisses me off.

xoxoxo

Oh, yeah. Happy New Year.

Most delicious thing in ages!

2009-12-18T04:09:00.002-05:00

Now.

I know I've been posting on all kinds of other stuff, but it's my blog and I'll cry if i want to!

Tonight I did a fairly late session, which is why I'm still up and will probably never get to sleep. I have seen him a couple of times in the past, but he's very young and frankly, I'm impatient. I am accustomed to the well seasoned sub, the one who understands that while they may be the boss at their jobs, in this particular arena my word is law and there is no question about that. It seems so obvious, you know? But apparently I am blessed in my subs (as if I didn't already know that!) and everyone isn't perfect out there. Who knew?

So I've refused to see this particular sub for over a year, tired of his constant misbehavior. Everyone who thinks Dommes do this just for the money should know how many subs we turn away on a regular basis. I guess we could be rolling in money if we accepted every call, but honestly, any domina worth her salt stays far away from all play except that which brings her joy.

Where was I now?

Right. I've refused to see him for over a year now. He has never stopped asking, and finally I decided I'd give him another chance. So he came in tonight, we chatted a bit about how life was etc., and then I begin to move toward play. He asked me then if I was going to change my clothes.

Huh.

Now, in our talk he'd made a special request for thigh high boots and I had no problem granting that. However, that was his only clothing request. Apparently he wanted me in leather. Apparently he doesn't know that I'm not a paper dolly to be dressed at his whim. Oh. The. Crankies. I asked him if he was serious, that he wanted me to go change clothes to facilitate his fucking fantasy. Thick as a post, this one. He said yes. I stormed out of the dungeon, barking orders at him that he had better be fucking naked when I got back and kissing the fucking floor. By the way, I'm not just swearing for the fun of it.. although that is something I'm likely to do... but rather because this is how angry I was at him. Not because he had a clothing request, but because I wasn't aware of it and then it was like when your spouse or whatever looks at you and says 'are you wearing THAT' and you are filled with hate. You know?

So I march out of the room, storm to the back of the space, angrily rip my clothes off (I tore my shirt, dammit!), threw on my biker leather, east german military cap, leather gauntlets and marched back down to the dungeon. Throwing open the door, I coldly ask him if this was the Domina he had in mind, was this the little outfit he'd fantasized about, refused to allow him to look at me and was that bitch Domme that I so rarely am. It was terrifying.

How do I know it was terrifying, you ask? Because as I was commanding him to drag the kneeler into the middle of the room and prepare to be strapped down and then strapped, the whole time ignoring his pleas of no, please Mistress Wynter, don't do this to me, please Ma'am I'm sorry, please please... he starts to tilt slightly. I might be pissed, but I'm still on the ball, still in complete control, so I stop and lift his face to mine. He is shaking from fear. He is pale, and considering that he's black, that's saying a LOT. He clutches at the air and begs me to find his asthma inhaler and to please dear Mistress please don't hurt him.

I never even touched him.

I let him put his head between his legs and calm down, and just couldn't help but laugh.

I never even touched him.

Wheeeeeeeee!

no canceling!

2009-12-18T04:04:00.002-05:00

If you are being all awesome and ordering cards, don't cancel your orders! I get all happy like I'm meeting a need and shit and then... somebody canceled 2 cards! c'mon. gimme the love!

If you're having issues with nudity on the cards, let me know and I'll work on that from my end. They don't tell me anything and they accept the designs and as far as I know we're golden, and then... IDK what they're up to!

So if you have problems let me know and otherwise, thank each and every one of you who has ordered something thus far. It makes a cold day feel warm and yummy.

Ok. nuff business. writing another blog right now about something awesomely good that happened tonight in session.

Landlord is good and other stuff

2009-12-15T02:28:00.002-05:00

Landlord, oh landlord, my deepest thanks for almost going as far as I'd hoped you would. I graciously accept your crazy generous offer and will be extending my stay in the lovely NYC. Everyone should send out happy thoughts in his general direction. His name is Lou.

Everyone who begged me to stay and made a fuss about woe is me and how shitty would life be if I left... it's time to step up to the bat. Don't tell me how you need me and then not come to me. Because that SUCKS. So if you want me to stay here and practice my craft, get your ass in here. A year goes by very very fast, and I really liked Providence. Just sayin.

I'm making a line of kinky goodness for those of you who need a little of that in your lives. Not equipment, because god knows there are experts out there and I have no interest in publicly shaming myself by making mediocre equipment, but what there isn't out there is kinky cards. Not like trashy kinky cards, but lovely cards for the sincere sub to give his Lady. I've been wanting to do this for a while, but the overhead to actually start your own card company is a bit steep for a starter business, so I'm doing it elsewhere and if you all show the love, I'll be creating my own little store. Nothing too pricey, but things I think are fun kink. Prove I'm right, buy a little something if you don't think they suck and I'll take that as a sis-boom-bah. And let me know that you did, ok? I'd like to give public thanks for those gestures.

And finally, there's this one really wonderful sub who I've only actually played with once but connected with quite deeply. He has been supportive of me in many ways over the last couple of months, and it's really made a huge difference. I want to thank him for everything he's done and just for being truly lovely. I can't wait to beat you again, etienne. Thank you.

SO. Go to my store, comment on the coolness, pick up a card or a shirt or a mug or a calendar... because I'm awesome and I deserve it!!!! And because it will make me terribly happy.

http://www.zazzle.com/MsWynter

love and kisses, and let's make coffee plans! (you know who you are.)

Dear Landlord:

2009-12-04T03:41:00.002-05:00

I know that my demands are absurd and unreasonable. I'm fully aware that requesting a $500 a month decrease is ballsy, to say the least. And yet...

I know you don't want me to go. I'm such a good tenant, aren't I? I beat people to howls, and still make less noise than the college kids or the crazy freakin guy down the hall who has lost his tiny mind and had to be dragged out of the building by NYC's fine officers of the law. I am pretty. I have cool stuff. I pay my rent every month. How many other folks in NYC are saying that??? huh????

zackly.

If you don't cave immediately, I will have to relocate to an entirely different state (which I'm ok with...) but be it on your head when my good and kind subs find you and string you up with a rage that hasn't been seen since the Colosseum days.

Just telling you is all.

All my love,

your best and most delightful tenant of 9 years who is going to look at spaces a couple of states away next week.

Mulling over relocating...

2009-11-30T00:22:00.002-05:00

can't decide. so many pros on going, but my friends... I'd miss my friends!!!!! And my sweet wonderful subs!!!!

I'll share more as my processes become clearer. But I am having the big change thoughts which leaves me only time to think about blogging rather than doing it.

More news in a few days.

I love NYC. I really do.

ack!!!!!

xoxoxoxo

The busy bitch is back!

2009-11-16T02:10:00.002-05:00

Man, that was totally judgemental of me to call me a bitch! I'm not really a bitch unless it's called for. Just evil and ouchy-making.

I have been busy however, and first of all I apologize for abandoning my readers. Lord knows I love you all for voluntarily reading my thoughts, so I shouldn't vanish. But feh. Whatcha gonna do.

So. What have I been doing, you ask?

Work. Doing my one true love of a job as often as I can, helping a friend re-open her company by answering phones for unbelievably long shifts for no money (I chant "good karma" when I get frustrated), and trying to get my shit together to go back to school for another degree at a school that specializes in criminology. I went to the college open house today and oh! I forgot how much wisdom and knowledge come with experience. I feel like the kids who were there are just so unprepared to deal with the majors they are choosing. I mean, they want to deal with the ugliest things in society and they had their parents reading the maps and hustling them around. Choose a nicey nice major first, get jaded and exposed, and then jump into understanding evil!

HA!

So I've applied and done the financial aid stuff and got myself all worked up about going and indulging my other passion (who knew I had more passions than beating naughty boys and girls into submission?) - forensic psychology is the major I'll be seeking. Cool, right? I know! I've been delving into people's psyche's for so long, I feel like it's time I put a degree behind it. Of course, this is for criminal stuff as opposed to the good-natured deviance we enjoy, but still... I'm ahead of the game I should think. I'm really hopeful and excited that this will work out. And a little nervous that they're going to make me get out of bed before the crack of noon, which I am genuinely opposed to on so many levels! I was so sleepy today I walked into a wall. Good thing I'm so freakin' cool or I might have been slightly abashed.

So that is what has kept me from tending to my kinky garden. I apologize.

I also really want to beat somebody into deep and sincere adoration and need a very good sub to come in and be that special person. Tomorrow works on my calendar...

Punishment List

2009-10-26T01:32:00.002-04:00

I have a truant boy coming in for a lesson from Ms. Wynter on Tuesday, and I decided that I would give him a fright and let him see my punishment list, modified from a punishment book circa early 1900s England. I made some teensy changes, but not too many.

Share your thoughts!

MS. WYNTER’S PUNISHMENT LIST
Offences which merit corporal punishment include:

Disobedience
Indecent actions to girls
Pushing neighbour off seat
Spitting
Screaming
Making nasty sounds with mouth
Rude action
Molesting girls
Impudence
Deliberately putting paint on boy
Spitting into pencil holder
Dancing on seat behind teacher’s back
Blowing whistle in school
Telling lies
Fighting in lines
Hitting and taking sweets from small boy
Sulking
Hitting a girl
Making rude noises
Wetting a boy and kicking
Striking baby girl on face
Truanting
Unseemly behaviour in WC
Incessant talking
Scratching and molesting neighbours
Tripping children in another line
Giggling
Impertinence
Biting his neighbour
Drawing on another boy’s book
Inattention, then laughing
Stealing crayons
Putting seeds into girls’hair
Stealing counters
Destroying counters purposely
Wilfully breaking pencil point
Stealing clay and working mischief with it
Turning taps on – hot and cold
Dirty behaviour in closets
Telling untruths
Spitting on desks
Calling after teacher on street
Chalking on boy’s back
Scratching desk purposely
Copying
Loitering on way to school and losing mark
Stealing plasticine
Stealing elastic of hat in porch
Behaving unseemly to a girl in yard
Throwing clay about classroom
Swearing
Lighting paper and running with it amongst the children in playground

Punishments inflicted include:
Slap or slaps on hand with open hand
Stroke/s with cane
Light rap with cane

Punishments for more severe infractions include:
Mouth soaping
Kneeling on rice
Hard paddling
6-of-the-best style canings

Juggling everything

2009-10-19T00:24:00.003-04:00

Why my time has suddenly been snatched away is beyond me. Where it's gone is a mystery. And how to squeeze my extra-super-happy-fun computer time back into it is indeed a conundrum!

Chugging along chugging along. I've been working a second job for the last almost 3 weeks, helping out a friend who, well, who just needed some help. Wynter to the rescue!!!! I've made a teeny bit of money in the process, mind you, but it's really more about helping get a business back on it's feet. And not even my business! I know! I'm freakin' Mary Poppins over here.

Missed you all. Everyone should send me emails when you miss me so I remember to get my ass back over here and regale you with stories of whatever has pissed me off or well, whatever crosses my mind that day. (cue tumbleweeds bouncing across a desolate background...)

My Needs, part 1

2009-10-04T00:13:00.009-04:00

I will post continuations to this topic when a strong need hits. It's my newest idea that I'm sure I won't follow up with because something shiny will distract me, but what the fuck. It's worth a try!

I haven't done enough of the following lately and expect my readers to assume the correct positions to get the cranky off me:

Nipple torture. I want to do a LOT of it until I bring tears to a toy's eyes. Why? Because I get to be right-the-hell-up in your face when the pain starts and I get to watch as it intensifies. I get to see your pupils dilate. I want this. Make it happen.

Face-slapping, hair-pulling jolly good time. Because there is something so delicious about the implied insult behind the actions. Purely bitchy controlling actions, and scared turned-on reactions. Makes a boy weak, and that's a very good thing. noms. In terms of making it happen, see above.

Naughty child punishments. Ear pulls, hand punishment, mouth soaping, corner time, Sometimes a boy needs to learn his lessons, even if I have to stretch my imagination to find something bad he's done. Since you absolutely know you've done something that deserves strict discipline, the making-it-happen should proceed.

Thoughts for the day have been shared.

Crying a plus.

And in the words of Jean-Luc Picard... make it so.

D'oh! I forgot to tell you

2009-09-25T22:58:00.002-04:00

that I was going away for a couple of days. Well, I went away for a couple of days and now I'm back so it doesn't really matter, but I probably should have mentioned it.

Feh.

"Do you get turned on?"

2009-09-21T02:10:00.002-04:00

I know, right?

A hard question, but a fair one I guess, and one I've been asked many times in many different ways. Last week one of my long-time favorite maso-types just flat out asked me and I said, and I quote, ' um. huh. well, see...'

And then I told him I'd give it some thought and blog on it. Here ya go, then. Does Mistress get all twisted up and turned on when she plays with you? Are her panties drenched? Is her pulse a-flutter? Um. Huh. Well, see...Yes and no.

Am I a sadist - yes. Do I love love pushing your body to places it could only go with my guidance? Do I adore watching the pain and pleasure dancing across your face as I do unspeakable things to you? Does the whistle of my cane slicing the air or the crack of my singletail make me dance a little and press my thighs together? Do I demand your submission for my satisfaction?
YES.

Is it the same as your turned on? Your prone form, physical desire making its presence well-known and seen, squirming for attention and some sign of affection? Is it an overwhelming desire to rub myself toward much needed release? Is it longing as you know it? I don't think it is.

Most of my playmates are men, with only a few exceptions. I don't understand what it feels like to be a man. I'm not a sub, so I don't know what it feels like on the other end of my singing, stinging cane. I mean I've felt the cane, but not from desire - just desire for knowledge. So I can't know if what I feel is what you feel, really. Partly the same and yet quite different.

There is a cerebral level of excitment that is a constant for me. I don't have the right words to describe how utterly delicious and sexy it is to see you weak and vulnerable to me. Your need is written on your face, on your writhing limbs, in the temperature of your skin and the marks it wears at my design. It's a heady rush that is both power and sex and power. Did I mention power? God, I love that. I can feel what's happening to you by laying my hand on your skin, your energy, your pain, your joy. It's huge. And it's vital to who I am and who you are to me. You give me that, I give you your needs, your secrets revealed, your soul laid open to me, your fear and your love. All of that. It's like that first hit of cocaine... it's a jolt of raw energy. Sounds like satisfaction to me. So yes, it's hot and it turns me on, but it's not rub my clit hot, you know? It's bigger than that.

It's brain-and-body hot. It's the kind of sexy that stays with you, that you carry as a faint smile playing around your lips and a heavy-lidded expression that creeps across your face at odd times. It's the sexy of power and pain and the beautiful gift of submission that hits me much deeper than a simple tingle in my girly places. It's an encompassing, palpable sexy that I love.

Do I jerk off after session? It's happened, but mostly that's if I'm just horny anyway. So no, I don't get turned on in the same way you do. But yeah, S/m turns me the hell on. Whether that's the answer you hoped for or not, it's certainly the truth.

And that, as they say, is that.

Punk and drunk and nostalgia

2009-09-14T02:10:00.003-04:00

I didn't know Jim Carroll, but I was hit with a wave of sadness when I heard he died. He represented something that seems to be vanishing, a lyrical explanation of the dirty city I fell head over heels for when I moved to NYC. Yes, so much bad, so much addiction, so much filth and yet... thrilling excitement and danger and sexy bad boys and tough girls and being young and fucked up and not caring what others thought of me.

It was awesome.

I can't believe I survived it.

I'm a little too young to have been here for the punk movement, but the enclaves were still around. I hung out at biker bars and rock bars and dirty little east village bars with rock on the jukebox and drugs in the bathroom. Conversation was both deeper and more shallow with my friends than it seems to be now. Sex was easy and, far too often, anonymous. Or worse, unremembered. Man.

I spent a lot of time drunk at biker bars. I was such a cocky little thing, I'm lucky I didn't get my ass beat. Jesus. Just recently I found a piece of a tooth embedded in a pair of boots I used to wear at the time. I remember perfectly the moment of impact, sitting at the bar, watching the crowd in the mirror in front of me placed so alluringly behind the bottles of liquor and seeing a Hell's Angel punch the guy behind me squarely in the face. I also remember my goggling reaction at seeing his teeth fly out of his mouth. The bartender laughed at my expression, and I kept a memento in the sole of a thigh high boot. Seems fitting.

I got to know some of my personal punk idols in the rock bars.. The Scrap bar, Continental Divide, Alcatraz... amazing memories. I lived with one these punk icons until I found his works in the bathroom sink after he promised he wouldn't shoot up in my home. I had to make him leave. Sucks. But the memories are wonderful.

I'd see Iggy Pop everywhere. I'm pretty sure I'd giggle whenever I saw him. Well, fuck. He's Iggy Pop! You'd do something silly too, I'm sure.

Johnny Thunders, Joey Ramone, Cheetah Chrome. Memories. Now that I know them only in my memories, it feels astonishing that I knew them at all. At the time they were just a really fucking cool part of life.

At the time, I lived on 13th Street and Avenue B. Gentrification was very far in the future. I was a daily witness when the crackdowns in Tompkins started - every day was riot police and helicopters over the neighborhood. My apartment was across the street from a shooting gallery, and I watched out my window as the cops and the squatters battled it out. The neighborhood crack dealer would walk me to Avenue A whenever he saw me, because he didn't like me being in such a dangerous neighborhood. I remember telling him once that if he wasn't selling crack on my doorstep, it might not be so dangerous. He just smiled.

Jim Carroll seemed like a natural part of that place and time. I'd go to his readings and listen to his music and just dig on the coolness of it all. And I still feel just a little yearning in my heart for the time.

Rock on, my friends. Rock on.

I remember.

2009-09-11T23:11:00.004-04:00

It was a most remarkably beautiful day. A day that makes you glad to be alive. Perfect, cool, crisp, invigorating in the way only Autumn in NYC can be. I wasn't even too upset to be heading into the office.

In the elevator, a woman says to me 'did you hear? a plane hit one of the towers'. I looked at her, shocked. 'They think that maybe the pilot had a heart attack'. Was there a lot of damage, I asked? 'I don't know. It just happened a minute ago'.

I ran to my desk and tuned in to a NY news radio station. It seemed like it was an accident. Upsetting, tragic, we had no information yet. We didn't know of the damage. I went to the window and looked downtown to see huge billowing pillars of smoke stretching upward forever. It looked too big to be an accident. It looked huge.

I hear fear in the voice of the announcer as he reports that another plane had just crashed into the second tower. I stop breathing. The realization hits with cold fists - oh god oh god. What has happened? The tears came to my eyes with blinding speed. I wailed my grief to the sky, I fell down on the floor and wept. The entire city wept.

I still weep.

We are told that we must always remember. My city will never forget.

Long time clients

2009-09-02T01:19:00.002-04:00

I had a session today with a client of mine that I've been seeing for 5+ years. We started seeing each other, as all pro relationships begin, a little cautiously, neither wanting to offend the other or overexpose the depths of our perversity (everyone isn't genuinely interested in knowing how deeply perverted their Domme is!), but after our first session he was cleverly swayed by my spanking style to see me again. He wanted a pervy perv session, he asked for nipple torture and some spanking.

We now do so many different activities that it's like sessioning with an entirely different person than the one who first came to me. I convinced him that he would like electricity. I was right. Loves loves loves it. We do more corporal, heavier tortures, the occasional shower, I make his poor nipples bleed, cbt, weights... oh, the lovely list goes on. We became comfortable with each other. I miss him when he's not around, we laugh our asses off when we play. He takes more than he would ever imagine that he could. I give more than he would have thought possible in a 'professional' relationship.

Is it a pro-relationship? Absolutely. I appreciate his never questioning my need to be paid to do this - after all, if I weren't a pro, he would never have met me, I couldn't see him during the times that he's available and he wouldn't ever be sure that he could safely live the rest of his life without my interference.

Is it nothing but money? Absolutely not. I worry about him when I don't hear from him, I think about him out of the blue and will have a laugh about something we said or did last time we were together. I give of myself in a way that I couldn't do if we hadn't devoted time to one another. I will rearrange other plans if possible to accomodate his narrow time availabilities. And I like him. Very much. As a person, as a pervy player, as a client, and as a friend.

Just so you all know - you matter. A lot.

A night of friends.

2009-08-28T02:19:00.002-04:00

I went to a wedding tonight. A wedding/fetish gala that was really quite wonderful in so many ways. I witnessed two people become one - bind themselves in marriage (Not just figuratively - Yin and Richard wore bondage suits with steel rings covering the surface of the outfits, and after the ceremony the guests each received a red ribbon with which to tie the two together) surrounded by their kinkster friends with so much love happening you could almost see it in the air. Thanks Mistress Yin and manmeat Richard for inviting me. It was beautiful.

I wasn't sure I wanted to go, honestly. I wanted to be a part of the ceremony, but I dreaded a fetish event, picturing in my mind exactly the kind of party I so wholeheartedly avoid at every corner filled with fashionistas and their syco's. I was still filled with evil anger (see previous posts re: smoking goodness), raging pms convinced me that there simply was no way I could go out in public looking like that, feeling like that, hating like that... and then convinced by a friend (thanks Veronica!) that I would be very happy there, decided that pms uglies be damned, I would go. (Rumor has it I didn't look ugly at all. PHEW!)

I'm glad I went. Really glad. Not just because I was witness to such a happy occassion, but because I got to see some friends that I rarely spend time with. I know some really fantastic women. It was a night of hugs and kisses and friends, old and new. I was reminded of the beauty of the people who make this scene happen, the differences between every one of us, and most importantly that acceptance of each other isn't only possible, it's easy and right.

Tonight was very memorable for many reasons, but the most important for me was that it reminded me not to forget my friends. Time goes by, life goes on, and it's too easy to lose track of the people who matter. Friends matter.

Still hanging tough!

2009-08-24T16:18:00.002-04:00

And a tiny bit less hateful of humans in general than I have been the past week. Not saying I love them, mind you... but everyone doesn't have to die. Just the select few that I nominate. Luckily, I've whittled this down to the same people I always think should die, so the rest of you... relax! I won't be killing you today.

Had my first acupuncture session today. I feel loopy. A little lightheaded, but really okay. I'm chatting with the Doc, answering his questions and he puts the first needle into my scalp. The SECOND it enters, I feel a flush. Yeah. Tell me it's all psychosomatic. I didn't know he was even starting, and it was immediate. I don't know yet how it will help with the smoking thing, but I'll tell you, you feel different as soon as it starts. When the session had ended, I was a little dizzy and slow, which is okay. I knew that would happen. After I wandered into the street to walk home, I realized that dizzy and slow = vulnerable.

I took a cab 8 blocks. Hey... I can't think of anything I hate more than feeling vulnerable.

(Major difference between the Domme and sub, yes?)

I'm proud of myself for doing this much cold turkey. I do find that I wrestle with myself every night over what difference one cig could possibly make, but obviously it would so I don't. But oh... it ain't easy!

Had an awesome talk with an old friend of mine yesterday over a long brunch about fringe and marginal living... very very good stuff. Been thinking about it ever since, and think I'll probably be doing a little expounding on the topic.

Not now though... now I'm sluggish from the acupuncture and Tales from the Crypt is on TV. You know I'm grabbing the kitty and snuggling in for silly scares.

byeeee!

Stopping smoking sucks

2009-08-19T23:38:00.002-04:00

It does. I'm just sayin. yeah yeah, good for your body, live longer, feel perkier, food tastes better... whatevs.

This.
Fucking.
Sucks.

No shit.

Have I mentioned that I can't use the patch because it gives me a rash and makes the muscles in the patched arm hurt? Or that I can't handle the gum as it is inedible - makes me want to gag. Vomiting is NOT an acceptable substitute for smoking. But that's okay - I knew going in that I wouldn't be able to do either of these. Hence the acupuncture.

OH!!!!! WAIT!!!!

I kinda gotta laugh about it or (to channel Ned Flanders) mur-diddly-urder someone, the acupuncturist that I will have the sessions with (I love Veronica for handling this for me and when I'm less rage-filled and headachy I'll thank her properly I promise!!!)...

IS ON VACATION.

UNTIL MONDAY.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... wah.

Regarding acupuncture...

2009-08-16T23:47:00.002-04:00

I will have details for you thoughtful and wonderful folks who want to help with that hopefully by tomorrow. Tuesday at the latest.

I gotta do this, and having support really helps.

love love love love!!!!

On relationships and Pro-Dommes

2009-08-15T00:49:00.002-04:00

Ah. Too tricky to attempt? Should I open up the vault a tad and let some light in or should I hide behind my lamentable and half-hearted 'veil of mystery'...? After all, I'm not all that mysterious, I think. An open book, I like to think. And yet I realize how much I do NOT talk about, discuss, or even openly acknowledge to those who I do not consider to be a part of my tight little circle (ooh that sounds dirty!!!!) of friends.

So I'm going to share a little, to help those who wonder... can a Domme date, fall in love, be in a relationship that isn't compromised by her calling? Is it hopeless? And more importantly, can I, a mere mortal submissive, ever hope one day to achieve that most illustrious position of significant other?

Probably not. But it does happen! To whit: (ahem)

It happened to me. 5+ years ago, actually, with a fetishist submissive who had initially asked to session with me. Suffice it to say, the money never changed hands. So yeah... it happens. Is it hard? Hell yeah. I imagine he often struggles with with my profession, and just as often forgets about it. Most of the time, he forgets that he's Mistress Wynter's boy, and just thinks of himself as the whole-woman-I-am's s.o. It's when he remembers my moniker that he gets a flush of pride and worry. I get that. It's hard for me, too. What do I talk about and what do I keep private when he asks how was your day? How much info is too much? He is not a masochist, so when I start rambling about a blissful caning-to-blood or cutting or branding, when I wax poetic or come out of session in flushed top-space and he can see blood-lust in my eyes, I wonder how that looks to him. It's a part of me he knows of, but not from personal experience. He is surprised sometimes to remember my reputation for severe play. His limits must be respected, too, even if our relationship is an intimate one. I talk about everything, but I try to be conscious of him when I discuss it. It's not easy. He knows he doesn't suffer my sadism as he would have to did I not session, but still... it must be a worry on some level. Not to sound cocky, but in a way it's like dating a rock star. It's awesome, but how do you not worry, you know?

We've made compromises. I don't accept sessions that involve his fetish - it remains ours alone and as such, it is still special. He does not session with other Dommes (fuck, why would you if you were with me, right?), and I try not to be too pissy about him fulfilling his fetish using other mediums. He's flawed, after all, and human. I try to remember that.

There are challenges, to both of us, in maintaining the fidelity of our relationship. But we do. And he better keep it up! (just in case he reads this.)

Which is to say, yes Virginia, it happens sometimes. Sometimes love follows. Not often, but never say never. UNLESS YOU'RE MARRIED. Then, never. And stop thinking about it.

What I want for my birthday!

2009-08-07T23:43:00.002-04:00

I'm going to do my very very best to stop smoking as a present to myself. I don't want lots of questions hurled at me after I quit as I will be filled with loathing for the world for a week or so... but if anybody wants to help me through the bad bits as a birthday present, I will happily accept!

I am going to set up sessions with an acupuncturist to help with the stress levels that I will be going through. I think it will help, so if you want to buy me a session, that would be the best present ever. Send me an email and I'll tell you how to help gift me with pink healthy lungs!

Which reminds me... if you want to do any kind of smoking fetish session with me, you got 10 days. :) Just sayin.

Are you trying to creep me out?

2009-08-04T18:52:00.003-04:00

Ok, so there is a fellow I saw for a session.

ONE SESSION.

He befriended me on yahoo, which really doesn't make any difference because anyone who knows me knows you can't reach me through yahoo IM unless I want to be reached. Hey, it's just the kinda gal I am.

But here's the creepy thing... Today I logged into my 'nilla email account where exciting things like bills and bills and bills are sent... and there is a message from yahoo saying that the same fellow is trying to befriend me. On my personal account. In NOT my professional name.

I don't keep many secrets. Everyone I know knows what I do. That's cool. But it takes effort to find my personal info. Way more than could be done as a passing thought, a whim of gee, I wonder if she goes by her real name? Genuine effort must be made. And to find that email address? How long did that take you? Why would you even send me something there? Are you trying to creep me out? Do you want me a little shuddery with horror that you are spending that much time thinking about me and trying to suss out my info? What are you thinking? Why?????

And people say I have control issues.

Chill out, buddy. Your work here is done. I'm genuinely ick-ified.

I didn't want to know that!

2009-07-28T22:32:00.003-04:00

I've found myself reading through blogs, learning more and more about people that I don't know than I could have ever thought possible. I wonder, is it sometimes a bit too much? I love to read the sub-guy kinda blogs. It allows me a deeper look into the submissive mind than most will give quickly - an immediacy into secrets that can be really quite wonderful. Some of you I feel I know intimately, yet wouldn't recognize if I sat next to you on a bus. It reminds me a little bit of pen-pals back in the day when people still used pens. You share so much, become so close, so aware of each other, and yet don't know that person at all. Odd. Good, but odd.

It does make one question, however, how much is too much? Just how much can you know about a person before you start to find them somewhat distasteful? Terribly flawed? Incredibly shallow or frighteningly insecure? As one who has just begun to blog, I have to ask myself these questions. I am, when I write here, Mistress Wynter. While I have no persona, no character that I must enact in order to delve into play, I still must keep my two lives separate. Not because I have anything to hide, but because Mistress Wynter cannot be flawed, annoying, overly verbose or in any other way an unattractive human being. She cannot be insecure or facing real life issues. Sadism is to be enjoyed, but other flaws must be hidden.

Don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about. You soooo agree with me.

I read subs' blogs for insight into their souls. Subs read Domme blogs for exploits, stories, fodder. A touch of humanity is good, too much and you lose the dominant persona that subs need in order to serve. Tricky line.

I know which of my subs is married, who is dating, who is straight, who is gay. I know about their kids, their lives, their jobs, their concerns. I know because I want to know. I can honestly say that I don't believe my personal issues are a real concern to most subs. It's too much. How can I expect you to surrender to me if I don't seem in control of myself? If you think too much about my life outside the dungeon, it gets all the hell in the way of the fantasy.

Admittedly, this is an issue for the pro-Domme to consider more than the strictly lifestyle player. I need to be compassionate and cruel and warm and cold. Evil and friendly. Sadistic and nurturing. Where does the person I am outside of session come into play in that scenario? It doesn't.

If I am for the time we are together your fantasy of female domination, I cannot have just spilled my inner secrets on a blog for the world to read. Surely I should be in more control than to discuss my masturbation habits or weird health things or financial troubles or whatever. I know that I have more information about a lot of Dommes than I EVER wanted to have, and I'm not thinking of submitting to them. How much harder for a potential playmate after having read of the struggles of menses or why doesn't that skirt fit me anymore or am I too old? Figuratively speaking of course, sometimes the ladies just need to keep it in their pants. Stop telling me everything. I'll take mystery for $500, please!

Sometimes I'd love to share, really share, what goes on in my life. Doing so would be an error of great proportion.

I'm okay with that - I just wanted you to know that I know.

Servalan in NYC and I'm sleepy

2009-07-26T01:18:00.002-04:00

Mistress Servalan just left today to go back to Sydney. She's such an amazing woman. We sessioned together, branded a lucky fellow together, stayed up too late, ate odd foods at odd hours, drank wine, chatted, giggled and basically enjoyed each other's company. We both find it to be one of the most unusual things that we live so far apart, don't see each other nearly enough and still consider the other to be one of our best friends. If I could just find Dorothy's magic shoes, I'd visit her all the time!

She left today and I waved her off glumly, made some toast and fell asleep. For four hours. Woke up, talked to someone on the phone who called seeking domestic discipline. I was very very sleepy and barely remember speaking with him. I probably sounded like a little kid woken from a nap. Sad, really, because I do so enjoy domestic discipline, but I probably won't hear from him again. Hard to take the sleepy groggy and confused voice that answered the phone and translate it to stern and unforgiving. And that, dear readers, is why I don't answer my phone early in the morning! Which is before noon. If you're lucky. Closer to one, really.

Fell asleep again for 2 more hours. Woke up and visited (if you can call my waving and muttering at her visiting) with Ms. Katya, ate something and fell asleep for 3 more hours.

Guess I was tired.

Missed everybody this last week and will get back on the typing horse asap, if it'll slow down enough to let the drowsy Mistress climb on. Oof. Am I already thinking of sleeping again?

I AM!

And I vanished!

2009-07-21T14:49:00.001-04:00

Sorry! Got myself into a bit of a funk there with finding out about my friend and went into hiding. I'm better now, so there ya go.

Natasha, my friend

2009-07-14T16:08:00.004-04:00

I lost touch with you, and I'm so sorry for that. I've been thinking about you so much lately and decided today to reach out and just tell you that you've been on my mind.

Wanted to reminisce about our meeting at that little cafe in West Hollywood, brie sandwiches and backgammon and being too loud in a little place. About how your friendship made me a better person, and how the only thing I ever regretted about leaving LA was having to be so far from you and Alain.

Your life got busy, as did mine, and the size of the country between us got in the way. It's life, it happens, I know.

I miss you.

I found out today that you died last year in a battle with cancer. I neglected to be in touch and tell you how utterly wonderful you were. But you were. Amazing and talented and beautiful and funny and I will always be a better person for having counted you as my friend.

I love you.

Sing with the angels.

http://www.natashashneider.org/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h04UPGDBKro

Much to ponder

2009-07-10T03:40:00.001-04:00

about the sheer goodness of this week with the lovely mantoy. Truly memorable. I'll consider it during sleep and post more tomorrow, methinks.

I will say this, however.

YUM.

Day One

2009-07-06T18:17:00.001-04:00

I am a terrible tease. Made him want more, then made him leave.

nomz.

I do enjoy my career...

So excited!!!

2009-07-04T03:10:00.002-04:00

I have one of my very very very favorite subs coming in next week. We've been teasing each other forever, trying to set up session time and just not being able to manage to do it, but next week...Oh Joy!!...the dear sweet slutty mantoy is coming in four days in a row.

I KNOW! One hour, then 90 minutes, then two hours, then three or more, depending on how we're going. I'm quite eager and have been planning and scheming for him. I have a couple of my dearest Domme friends coming in to play with him during his time with me ( I shan't say who lest the sweetie is a reader... who knows?), and just purchased a new latex hood for his deprivation pleasures. He loves it so, and we managed to rip the last one somehow in our eagerness to get him into it. Must be more careful with this one...

I'll let you know how it goes!

It's 5 a.m.

2009-07-02T05:05:00.002-04:00

And my piece of advice for today is don't believe the cable company when they say they'll be happy to help. The liars.

I thought I'd be clever and try to figure out why my high-speed internet email addy wasn't working, but I'd wait until really late to call the cable company so I wouldn't have to wait on hold for the multitude of people who'd called before me to get bad service. That was almost 2 hours ago. They shuttled me around the world, but no one has the foggiest idea how to be of assistance.

I hate everyone. Well, except people who read my blog, because you're AWESOME! Everyone else... go to hell.

Night!

General ranting

2009-06-29T23:29:00.002-04:00

Ok, so I take new Dommes under my wing sometimes, teach them the ropes (figuratively and literally!), let them see into the wickedness that is my mind, show them how to get past problems without fucking up their subs headspace, train, mentor and generally cook at 350 til they're done.

You know what I mean.

So what I don't like about doing this is when said ladies neglect to mention, when posting about their brilliant sessions and session ideas, that they *may* have gotten help from me. Or an idea. Or a technique. Don't pick my teeny brain (I barely have enough to share, you know!) and then present these ideas as your own. I mean, I understand that you don't want to admit that you don't know everything. I understand that if you say I helped you, it makes me look like I *may* know more than you do about certain aspects of BDSM, and I understand if you want to look like you're on the ball all the time and utterly in control. I do.

But here's the thing: I have been doing this for around 14 years. There is a possibility that I do know more about it than you simply from the years and years and years and years of experience I've tucked away. There is no shame in knowing less at 2 years than I do at 14. And if you don't credit me, I probably am not going to feel so generous about mentoring. If I don't lend a hand, those brilliant ideas of yours are going to dry right the fuck up.

So how's about you just give me a nod when I deserve it and we can all live happily ever after. Otherwise I'm not helping anymore. And that would really really suck.

My Wishlist. Ahem.

2009-06-24T03:53:00.002-04:00

http://www.infinitiusa.com/g_convertible/index.html">http://www.infinitiusa.com/g_convertible/index.html

What? I only want one thing!

Oh, plus a driver, cuz yeah... I don't drive.

So it's only two things!

Plus a house with a garage nice enough to park the only thing on my wishlist. I mean, clearly I can't park it on the street, right? And it would get hurt, the poor thing, on NYC city streets, but parked in a sprawling home in the Hamptons, it would be just fine!

I'll need some folks to clean the place... honestly, when would I have the energy to play with all of you if I had to clean. Just a small staff will do. And well, I need enough cash to look the part in my new home in the Hamptons with the staff... they can't think I'm anything less than royalty or I'd look bad, right? And if my staff didn't respect me, how could I expect my loving playthings to continue to hold me in high enough esteem to be able to come to me to fulfill their happiness and make their lives better? I do this all for you!

So that's my one item wishlist. First person to get it for me receives a warm smile and a pat on the head. And it's all worthwhile.

Thank you in advance,
Your Queen,
Mistress Wynter

Little things first

2009-06-22T16:08:00.002-04:00

then I'll do an actual blog a bit later on!

I'm traveling to Montreal on the 24th of June and will be back on the 27th. So don't miss me too much!

I need more followers!!! hmp and hoodman, you are awesome for following. Now make your friends do the same!!!

I got my new computer, which is awesome. I've also, for some reason, had a helluva time logging into my blog (hence the time between thoughts) and also the Scene (Irene Boss and I are working that out!) So if you've wondered if I'm ok, I am... just troubleshooting shit.

Don't forget that the illustrious and delicious Mistress Servalan is coming in July! I'm just sayin'...

Thought filled blog later!

Stop it!!!!

2009-06-14T16:12:00.003-04:00

Okay, maybe it's just me.

But dear lord have mercy on all of our souls, why must some subs rhapsodize endlessly about Dommes that they haven't ever seen? And never will see?

And more importantly, why haven't I just become accustomed to the fact that these subs exist and let it go at that? Why do I want to send them notes telling them how their credibility sinks with every public affirmation of their genuine devotion to utter strangers? I mean, honestly... why the hell do I care?

I don't know either. But it still bothers me.

It also bothers me that men can't see the forest for the trees sometimes. What kind of a woman insists on your utter devotion when she doesn't even know you? How much of your wallet is involved in that devotion? And this isn't about financial domination. This is about those ladies who tout compassion and take your cash. That talk about your emotional well-being while they insist that you devote yourself to them and give them money for the honor. Who know that they will never session with you, but treat you like owned property to pay their bills. Fuck that. Too many subs cannot see the bloated spider waiting for prey, and don't know the difference between one who enjoys you and one who enjoys your money. Jesus Christ. Get a clue, guys. Set yourself up as prey and the spider will creep down the sticky gossamer web she has created and eat you. And she will consider it her due.

(This attitude of mine almost certainly explains why I am stealing from Peter to pay Paul right now, but hey... I like who I see when I look in the mirror, so I guess that's something).

There are a lot of women who Domme for the right reasons. But.. and here's the thing so pay attention... there are a lot who don't. Learn the difference.

Gahhhhhhhhhhh!

2009-06-11T14:58:00.002-04:00

I have been sick for a week! One whole week of NOT sessioning, NOT getting my kink on, NOT doing anything but wishing I was feeling better.

At times like these, I realize that I do not control all things in the universe.

At times like these I realize that there is no way for me to put in for sick-day pay.

At times like these, I realize that while it's important for me to be independent it sure would be nice to have a partner to share the expenses.

Oh fuckedy-doo-da. I hate times like these.

Delicious Visitors

2009-06-09T18:07:00.002-04:00

Because I'm all about rubbing thine noses in it!

Mistress Persephone is visiting me June 15 - 16 and we are happy to double your discomfort! http://www.sickchixxx.com/temple/booking-info/

Mistress Servalan from Sydney AU is coming next month! July 20 - 25. Oh, we do love to play together. http://www.msservalan.com/

So be sharp now! Two ladies the likes of these will not have availability to spare, you know. The earlier you get in touch, the better your chances of basking in the sadism.

Happy Birthday boy!

2009-06-07T16:29:00.001-04:00

see? I kept it off Max this year. You're welcome!

Many more happy days and years ahead, my dear. The rest of what I'm thinking you already know.

Considering the submissive

2009-06-06T16:26:00.003-04:00

I don't see a lot of protocol-ridden submissives. Probably because I don't believe that the exact position you've assumed to greet me or how many kisses each boot gets is any indication of what kind of a submissive you are. Admittedly I love to see a man on his knees when I enter the room, but that's not protocol (to me) so much as a show of deference. I'm a big fan of deference.

But I think that often the self-labeled submissive uses protocols to define themselves as a submissive, i.e., I'm better than other subs because I always fall prostate to the floor when a Domina comes into the room and the others just stand there. I'm such a good sub! I always kiss her hand, hold the door open, try to kiss her feet because I'm such a good submissive!

But here's the thing: protocols don't define the submissive. Actions define the submissive.

You can teach a cat to use the toilet, but that doesn't mean it won't miss scratching in it's litter-box. You can teach a parrot to say 'I love you', but don't think for a second that that means that the parrot loves you. See what I'm saying here? Yes, you can learn the tricks that make you appear to be a good sub, but without understanding the meaning behind what makes a valued submissive, what good the horse and pony show?

Do you always think of yourself when you are with Mistress? Do you kiss her boots because your heart is filled with love and awe, or do you kiss her boots because it makes you look good? Do you help her because you can and because you adore her and desire her happiness above your own, or do you help her because if you do you know that she'll feed your fetish, sate your desires, fulfill your needs? Do you tell others about all the wonderful things you've done for your Mistress so that they will be impressed with what a good boy/girl you are, or do you quietly help her because you do for her and not yourself? For whom are you submissive?

Are you a submissive or are you a need-monster putting on a show?

Think about it before you label yourself a sub, won't you? Because Mistress can tell the difference. And speaking for myself, I hate being lied to.

Sometimes you have a session...

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that's just really beautifully intense, hardcore, all the give and take and smiles and groans that define S/m in its most perfect form.

I had a session exactly like that on Wednesday. Thanks, Etienne.

I hope I like this.

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It's not like I don't already have good places to post my thoughts. I do. I mean, I have both my board on Max Fisch and my board on the Scene, so you'd think I'd be talked out, right?

I may be. Who knows. I guess time and viewer-ship will tell. So really, if you find me infinitely fascinating and just cannot get enough of my views on anything, follow my blog here and tell your friends and make sure to talk about how fantastically wonderful I am at the water cooler. Otherwise... yeah. I'll probably get bored and wander away to look at shiny objects. I do that sometimes.

I think I may use this space for thoughts about my day, my sessions, my peeves and even, heaven forbid, my happy moments. I know I've had them. Other people have told me about them. Maybe stuff a little more personal than I post on the S/m boards. Maybe less personal. Am I being vague enough? I will enjoy being able to spill my thoughts without concern for attack from the evil minions or being politically incorrect in some way. I often push the boundaries of polite society, but hey... I live my life in an arena that strays from the ordinary so I'm sort of incorrect from the get-go. So the sexually shy need not apply. Or something.

Today was fairly uneventful. It was hot and I was pissed off about it. Apparently I do not control the weather. A sad realization for the queen of all things in her own mind.

There ya go. First blog entry done. :) I'm awesome.

Welcome to Mistress Wynter's Blog

2009-05-22T22:08:00.000-04:00