Bound: Thoughts from a Rope Demonstration @ A Sexy Zombie Apocalypse NYC

I have always loved ropes…I took to ropes in a way  I never did to the whips, or clamps, or verbal barbs of BDSM.

Bondage feels natural, to me; it feels like home.

When I am wrapped (bound) I feel safe, complete, protected…in my restraint. As if I can finally give up on all of the struggles in daily life and just relax into the ropes…the ropes will support me…they will hold me…and if I release…they will deliver me from pain into pleasure.

When I bind another, I feel in control…I feel honored. I feel their trust. A mix of serious concern (for their safety) and waves of pleasure flood my mind. I can always see in their eyes when the session moves from “fun” to the realization that they are dependent on me…completely…they are vulnerable. 

I love this moment…I lean in and give her a kiss to reassure her that she hasn’t misplaced her trust…and then I watch her melt into surrender…and the fun begins: she moves, she reaches, she grabs…the ropes become a part of her, an extension of her sexual desire…and I smile, my intentions met.

The above describes much of what you’ll see in the video (shot by Joel of Kamenwati Productions) below from a Halloween event last weekend. My partner, spontaneously volunteered…and this is what she got:

I hope you enjoyed the video…and I would well wishes to everyone recovering from Sandy on the east coast my heart is with you all,

xxx conchita.

I Had Him “COLLARED”: Adventures from the Dungeon (II)

Michael was short in stature, almost stout; a muscular and attractive man in his 30’s. When I walked into the room he was already naked, which is not typical for clients. Typically, a client discusses what they would like to experience with their domina prior to disrobing. But, there he was, naked…on his knees…DOG COLLAR already donned…staring up at me with the palest, most innocent, blue eyes I have ever beheld.

“Good evening, Mistress.”

It was a typical greeting from slaves and to be honest while indulging in such intimate scenes with strangers, I enjoy the formality.

I knew the scenario with Michael.

He wanted a role-play where he was the “cuckold” (his word) and I was the diva-like Mistress who treated him like a dog (quite literally) and only allowed him to grovel at her feet…if he was very obedient.

Cuckold, defined: Historically referred to a man with an adulterous wife. Derives from the cuckoo bird, alluding to the alleged habit of the female bird in changing its mate frequently and authentic practice of laying its eggs in other nests within its community. In medieval literature, the “kukewold” was almost universally scorned instead of the adulterous wife, in a sense much like the 1980′s nerd (but without the intellectual ability), they were viewed as worthless due to their physical stature and somehow at fault for the adulterous act.

It was a unique scene, not because of the elements they were common enough, because of Michael and what he brought, of himself, to the scene.

As the session began he related the painful details of watching me, and my (imagined) boyfriend, have sex. Michael loved to demean himself, assuring me when prompted,

 “Oh no Mistress I could never have sex with you. You are too beautiful and powerful. And my cock is so small you would never want it.”

Of course these statements were relayed even as he “fed” me his true desires.

It was always interesting to me how, in the dungeon, we were the true servants enacting the slaves’ desires. It was their game, not ours. We only hit them as hard as they wanted. There were a few, of course, that after a time would surrender to you. I feel as if Michael could have become one of those had I sessioned with him over the course of time and built up trust (the foundation of all good dom-sub relationships).

Still, I enjoyed the freedom allowed even within his specific framework. I have always enjoyed a running dialogue with a well-engaged client and Michael’s banter was rich; he seemed to have no end to the ways in which he “snuck” and saw my well-endowed boyfriend and I make love…

“I saw you from the window. I know you told me I shouldn’t spy, but I couldn’t help but watch you two. You so beautiful and him so large…the way he ramped into you…the screams of your orgasm…”

He seemed to get lost in his own fantasy.

I have to admit his lengthy lascivious details turned me on during the session, combine that with foot worship that included a massage and it was rather satisfying for both parties, I would say.

Then would come the training.

Dog training.

Michael never wanted much physical punishment throughout the session, it was always much more about psychological dominance:

“That’s right My Pet, you are correct you will never touch or fuck me the way that he can and does because you are no better than a fucking dog! Now do as you’re told, down on the floor! Silence! If you obey perhaps I’ll let you touch…my feet!”

The exception was during training, when he would request light whipping and spanking as one might a dog–quite literally: dog-training.

We worked on, “sit,” and “stay,” and the room that we utilized what equipped with a cage large enough for a human which he would lay in for a time during the session, feigning reproach.

It tickled me when he would disobey, clearly desiring the repercussions.

And yet he embodied the wounded, damaged, wanting cuckold so well…I found it difficult to properly punish him.

I found myself wondering why this scenario? He enacted it many times with different mistresses with only slight variations on the main theme reported.

Had he been a cuckold? Had some former lover cheated on him, withholding her sexual favors, and stamping him forever with this unrequited desire? Was this self-inflected punishment for his homosexual desires (he was always very graphic when describing my lovers cock)?

These interpretations seemed far too simple. Rather I imagined this was more oedipal, whether or not Michael knew the origin, I don’t know…but those baby blue eyes always engendered a feeling of nurturing in me, as they stared-up “wanting” and “NOT wanting,” simultaneously…or rather believing to be undeserving.

I was his mother, the perfectly unattainable, task-mistress…allowing him to serve and titillate yet never really consummate or satisfy…the ultimate tease.

Even the way he came to orgasm was sad and appeared to be unfulfilling:

Rubbing against the floor, rather violently, at my feet…seemingly uncomfortable and truly desiring my touch.

As deviant as the scene sounds it’s also highly relatable.

I believe we all hold ideas and beliefs that keep us “collared,” if you will. Unrequited wishes and desires that must remain so, due to the shame or aberration we attach to them. Whether they are collars applied by society, our experience…ultimately they are constructed by us…we dictate our own restraints.

Don’t get me wrong…restraints can be good; necessary even…but sometimes it’s interesting to wonder about their origin and impact on us, and our relationships.

For instance, do you think Michael was able to find satisfaction WITHOUT HIS COLLAR? I do not…I think that’s why he returned to the dungeon to enact this scene so frequently:

He required the collar to attain pleasure. It was only through the act restraint that he found satisfaction.

But was there more?

Was Michael, in fact, keeping himself from experiencing real pleasure?

Is this so different from some of the emotional boundaries we erect in our own lives? Expressions of our desires held in check, collared, our expectations of fulfillment never quite reached, perhaps due to our less “acceptable” needs not ever being given thorough exploration?

This was me, in my 20’s…and only in my 30’s did I finally throw-off my collar…only to realize…maybe I enjoyed a different collar…not the emotional-sort …no, no…rather of the hard-leather and spike variety!

Isn’t it interesting how through deviance, we all too often get at the true desires and needs of the human soul?

Now…Don’t think I forgot about your TOYS! I knew Katerina’s Closet (click the hyper link below to go to the website) would have something for us, it is Thrilling Thursday after all and so I will offer you a Sex-Toy Treat:

This one was my pick…someone actually stole my last collar (shocking I know)

Fetish Fantasy Extreme Leash and Collar ($78.75 now $61.29)

Description: Take your pet play to the extreme with the Fetish Fantasy Extreme Heavy Duty Leash & Collar set. This industrial grade collar and leash is made from high-quality genuine leather and made to play hard. Have your submissive begging for more and obeying your every command! The thick metal chain connects to a metal clip, which connects to a solid metal D-ring. The collar attaches in the back with a leather strap and metal eyelets and buckle, ensuring your favorite pet won’t try to run away any time soon. One size fits most. Material: Leather

Until our next session…I hope you’ll take a look at your collar, maybe trade it in for a new less restraining variety, perhaps?

Now…bow down so I can leash you up!

Xxx

c.

All images are credited to ForTraDVD.com and M.Wild Photography

Lessons From The Dungeon: #1 “You have to be weak, before you’re strong”

It has been about a year since I worked in the dungeon.

My experiences were, truly magnificent,

And freakish,

And enduring,

And…disgusting.

Time spent, now representing a collection of moments that at once were both exhilarating and anti-climactic.

I have wanted to write about these moments for quite awhile.

But, something stopped me.

Rather some things stopped me.

One, I wasn’t sure about my ability to fully process my experiences in a mindful manner…understanding the complex emotions of dominant and submissive.

Two, I wasn’t sure what I THOUGHT exactly OF my experiences.

Three, I felt protective.

I felt, and still feel, protective of my fellow dominas (with whom I developed a feeling of real sisterhood), and my clients (who trusted me to handle their bodies with force, and their shame with respect and empathy).

However, time has passed and I want to write.

My desire is to process my experience through my blog, while remaining in the context of “the other”…to detail the reality of this limited, yet impactful, relationship between the “hired” dominatrix and her client.

I would be untruthful if I said I wasn’t afraid…of both my reactions (“I cannot believe I did that?”) and the reactions of others (“You did that?). But life, when it is truly lived, is about confronting and dancing with our fears…is it not?

I hope you like to dance…

THINGS THE DUNGEON TAUGHT ME

LESSON 1.

We had a uniform at the dungeon. All black leather bikini with garter belt and seamed black stockings with black pumps. This was deemed the epitome of what every client would want form his or her domina.

I hated it.

In the same way I dislike any “rule” that represses my ability to express my fashion sense. I mean BDSM offers a myriad of dress-up opportunities. However, I soon learned the benefits of the (hated) uniform.

One day, a client requested latex.

We were typically told about a client’s “special desires” prior to our appointment, as such:

(in the clippy Czech accent of the dungeon’s mistress)

“Mistress Charly! Please come here! Today you will have Dave. He likes latex. You will need to wear latex. He also likes cock and ball torture and light bondage. That’s it. Oh and just spank his ass a little bit…not too much, or he’ll get bitchy.”

I skipped to my locker thrilled for my first chance to don my tremendously pricey, $800 plus, custom-fit latex outfit…for Dave. Well, really it was all about me. I failed to calculate the…less fashionable, more function, aspects of latex…

The session started as usual with introductions, price negotiation, and a discussion of desires and limitations.

I was ready to go, and so was Dave.

Dave had requested the largest room in the dungeon, with the worst ventilation. The room had a door to the outside, however when this door was shut (as Dave requested for our session) the temperature in the room ranged from muggy to jungle-hot.

I began the session…with spread eagle bondage rigging across the large leather table.

However, very soon something else became very clear:

the tenuous and often oscillating relationship between dominatrix and submissive in a dungeon environment.

Straddling my client’s body as I taunted and teased with all manner of “non-demeaning insults” (at his request).

“Look at you, all tied up! Helpless…defenseless…I…can…do…ANYTHING I WANT!”

But, Dave was a seasoned sub’ and he had chosen well.

DRIP.

DRIP.

DRIP.

Went the perspiration…pouring…from my sexy latex…and onto Dave…quickly turning my dramatic rope staging into a sweaty, slippery mess.

And faster than you can say, “slip and slide,”

I lost my grip and fell, star-fish style…right on top of Dave.

To his great delight, I might add.

The “accident”  was followed quickly by a satiated sigh of,

“Oh Mistress, you spoil me too much with your delicious sweat!”

And just like that, I realized who was really in control of the situation.

Later I learned this was a scene orchestrated again and again on “new girls”; a scene with a predictable outcome:

The dominatrix being placed at the pleasure of the submissive, in a way that was quite out of her control.

I wiped up the table and proceeded with the session…making sure I was extra rough when I slapped his cock and balls with the whip and withholding of any further accommodating behavior on my part…still I couldn’t help thinking:

“He’s gotten everything he wants already, and here I am feeling disgusted, dirty and inept.”

And so goes one of my first lessons from the dungeon:

Submission is the only pathway to true dominance.

I could have considered this interaction a failure on my part. I had entered the session feeling in control and confident concerning my skills as a competent dominatrix, and left the session feeling embarrassed and resembling a wet-cat.

Except I also left with a healthy respect for the skills of a seasoned submissive, who grasped the nuances of power and was unafraid to playfully volley that dynamic in the safety of a shared intimate experience.

If I failed at all, it was in my inability to adopt his same acceptance of the multi-faceted nature of power.

It was an important lesson…not only applicable in the dungeon, in life.

How many times have you faced opportunities that require both competence and the ability to integrate powerlessness?

At work, in school, in relationships…in virtually every aspect of our lives that provides an opportunity for growth, asks this of us:

to be strong and to be weak…it’s just how gracefully we accept that dialectic, that determines how we move forward.

Good times, it’s nice to revisit such a vibrant part of my past, Thank you… xxx c.

The Experience of Pleasure & Pain: A NEW adventure into BDSM

Sadomasochism –the consensual practice wherein pleasure, often sexual but not always, is derived from the giving and/or receiving of pain–in one form or another has always been present in my life (viewing my previous blog posts confirms that assertion)…although it has gone largely unexplored or expressed…until now.

Throughout the end of last year I concentrated mainly on one thing…on training as a:

DOMINATRIX.

Now, at first glance…to those that know me…I know this is not a shock and seems quite fitting when you consider the multitude of erotic projects I have pursued…but to be honest, I am finding this experience to be quite challenging.

Challenging not only due to the the shear art of properly wielding the tools-of-the-trade, but specifically when considering the heavy psychological component of being a responsible Mistress.

Let me be clear, I am not currently living the BDSM Lifestyle, although it holds great appeal…(more about that later)…rather I am working in a very “old-school”  dungeon, meaning they do not sanction any nudity or sex acts. This is a dungeon that caters to classic fetishists. Some are erotic, some are not.

Let me step back for a moment, and catch my breath…a fetish can be understood as anything with one gives excessive devotion. The key being “thing”, part…not the referring devotion to the “whole”. As in, a body part, an article of clothing, a specific part in  role-play. More often than not these fetishes are erotic in nature and their indulgence triggers intense sexual arousal. There are many psychological theories as to the origin of these alternative desires, and even more debate around the labeling those that indulge in these acts as deviant. Indeed the DSM-IV-TR (the psychologist’s bible of diagnosis) classifies individuals’ whose fetishes have negatively impacted their ability to function (socially, occupationally, etc.) as suffering from Paraphilia…a mental illness.

However, as I learn to navigate through the intense world of BDSM…I must acknowledge that there is so much more to these unique experiences. They are layered in meaning…a metaphor for life:

Suffering is the common ground.

Whether we are creating it or enduring it…it is in experience nearly all the same, is it not?

Pain is how we know we are alive…it is the way in which we learn about fear, and if we are patient and brave…how to conquer that fear.

I feel so very honored to be a part of this experience and even more so…to share it here, with you. This particular journey will not a be an easy one and I expect controversy along the way…but I do believe it is worth…the…PAIN.

Until next time…when we step into the dungeon together….xxx c