Well, isn’t this fun? What cha’ doin’? I’ve got my feet up on the sofa here sipping a cup of crappy insta-coffee, the kind that comes in packs of 3’s and leaves the taste buds a little unsatisfied , know what I mean? Got my laptop on – you guess it – my lap , and until a few minutes ago I didn’t even realize that I had my right hand down my sweats resting on my pussy. I haven’t showered since yesterday and this is the third day I’m wearing these grey sweat pants – but I have changed my panties daily , so at least i’m somewhat kempt. That’s how relaxed things are, and you know what? I’m …
Two sessions and two Tinder dates in the past couple of months have ended in the movie theater – and by end I mean severence of relationship. What’s spectacular about that? I didn’t end the relationship – the guy I was with did on all four occasions. The culpriit? – The Avengers. More specifically , the last movie in the franchise – End Game , and the one that preceded it. Those who know me know very well my penchant for ending relationships cold turkey – like instantaneous cessation of dialogue for eternity. It’s something that more than one guy has had a problem wrapping his head around – that lying in any shape or form means he’s cut …
How did I get started as a Mistress? I get asked that a lot , especially recently as Twitter eclipsed the 4,000 follower plateau and searches for bdsm have brought in a plethora of new readers – I find in my emails lately a whole lot of “getting to know you” type of questions. So I thought I’d shelve my thoughts on my recent European trip for a short while and instead spend a couple of stories at least bringing the new readers up to speed on just who I am and what it is Mistress Wael , Arita and I do in the realm of BDSM & Fendom. Starting with scratching your itch of knowing how I became “me.” …
T’was the night before Europe and all through the place this Mistress was packing, with remarkable haste. The chastity’s were hung, by the chimney with care In the hopes a good slave would lock him self there. Bondage ropes were nestled tucked under the bed While visions of Swiss egg nog danced in my head. But I caught a sound with my ears and turned right around Through the garbage chute St Nick came with a bound. He was dressed in all latex from his head to his toes And for daring to enter I clutched him by his nose. From the bundle of toys that was flung on his back I whipped out a paddle and gave him a …
“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” Consider: PM Dec 8, 2019, 6:40 AM (1 day ago) to me Another great read by the Mistress of the short story! I must say though , all of your recent stories seem to have a cry for help as a constant theme? As much as I love your insights into the male and female psyche, I do get concerned when I see someone on a seemingly self destructive path. I just get the impression …
Our sexual Dreams – like life , are finite … Bounded by our time on this planet,. Societal rules. And measurements. It’s where we must lean on a Mistress for support. Where we rejoice in each other’s fantasies. Where we share lessons about our perceived place in the world. Together we increase compassion through the mirror of each session’s mixed results. A man and his mistress … their character revealed. for nothing goes according to plan Getting older is wonderful … and terrible. Triumphant … and heartbreaking. Our identity is formulated in failures. Fall seven times? Get up eight. Thus in the face of certain weakness before me , will you maintain the struggle? Can you lift a memory from …
Since my blog is a conduit into the thoughts of your Mistress , I thought that in lieu of an official story you’d enjoy a peak into some of my email correspondance , as the first thoughts which pass through my mind after reading a fresh session request are some of the purest. So how do I actually follow through on emails? Perhaps we’ll start there. I read it , usually while sipping on “morning” coffee which for me remember is mid afternoon right after I’ve woken up. Usually my legs are propped up on my bed under a pillow while my weary arm is draped over the headboard and i’m grabbbing the first sip of my Nescafe instant roasted …
It was a rainy Sunday morning if I recall correctly , I was nine years old at the time, and there I was huddled up with a blanket in the left corner of my small shoebox sized bedroom to get away from the water leaking in from the roof as it always did every rainstorm. Dad was downstairs already yelling and screaming at my mom for one of the last times before he took off forever while outside of my tiny window sounds of my idiot neighbour slurring his drunken words were being drowned out by the 8am droning of the neighbourhood military like speakers strung high a top the telephone poles reminding us to ’embrace the poverty and find …
Waiting for a femdom session worthy of a blog post is much like fly fishing where most of the time you’re casting your lure and nothin’ bites , nada, zilch. You guys would have more fun smelling your ball sack than doin’ what I do day in / day out , however …. Once the line jerks though and the fish is on , oh it’s on like grey poupon … meaning shit’s about to get exciting. Case in point, this story about Joey the Fish – not his real name but close enough for jazz , as it begins with a J and hey it rhymes as well – so figure it out. The fish part is true enough …
Seemingly for over a month I can’t find it within me to construct a story that’s worth writing let alone reading. The roots of the problem no doubt can be traced back to these bouts of self inspection, depression and goal-less-ness that I’ve been plagued with from about October onward ’til now. That’s not to say however that I haven’t had some great thoughts pass through my mind. My phone and my laptop have a notes section which gets filled with random thoughts, memories, recordings and the occasional video – and it’s from these that in the past , when allowed to marinade like a good steak in the fridge , produce some fine story lines. So since that hasn’t …
