Yearning to Surrender...An Attempt to be a Submissive.

February 3^rd, 2013

 To catch you up….

Wolfie and I lost touch after our first session because after arranging our second session, I called to tell him that I would be 30 min late because I was at the gym.

He found this unacceptable, because Wealthy Submissives would not be able to tolerate a late Domme, and neither would he. He’s a stickler on time and cut me out of his life because I was late. I told him I completely understood the concept of being accountable with time.

We didn’t speak for a month. I travel to New York.

My yoga teacher Mark Whitwell, author of "yoga of heart", repeatedly instructs on the important Concept of “strength receiving”, of the masculine actually gaining true power by receiving the feminine essence. This to him is the path of true healing in humanity; for the masculine has been taught to dominate, to obliterate and even disrespect the fragile feminine essence. When this happens, an entire society suffers, and we loose the great gift that a woman is; pure sensual expression. I believe that bdsm re-instills the importance of surrendering your power, and receiving the wishes of your chosen deity, or dominant. The sub receives strength through surrender, by completely letting go to reality; and sometimes that reality is excruciatingly painful, uncomfortable and in a normal dynamic undesirable. But when dedicating oneself to the Dom/Domme, when done for another person, when the sub knows the dominant is also gaining power by witnessing another being’s perfect surrender to reality, they also gain an embodied experience of strength receiving.  all of reality is a relationship between two opposing forces; pleasure and pain, dominant and submissive, male and female, solar and lunar. It’s extremely yogic, tantric even. All we have is the breath, in  a way that when we encarnate into a body all we have is duality. We cannot even exist without the exhale so that we may make room for the inhale. The sun cannot rise if it does not set. And the submissive cannot find this euphoric space without the expression of their feminine essence; pure service and surrender. Inherently the dominant (masculine) has no power if it is not willingly given. and true masculine power is not stolen, forced, or taken. It is not the domme’s job to prove their power to the submissive, nor is it eithical for them to beat their submissive until all their power is lost. There becomes a mutual trust and faith in one another, like sky diving knowing that the parachute is there to save your life. This is the amount of trust that you need to have in this powerful dynamic.

I contemplate these philosophies after I complete my task for my Master.

You won’t believe it. I met my new master-to-be on  AIrBNB while renting a place in the big apple.

After the cops (yes Cops) came to my door in my first sublet situation in ny, I knew I couldn’t stay there. The location was hot, and not in a good way; there were neighbor complaints about too many subletters coming and going with suitcases. Either way, I didn’t want any more run-ins with the cops so I had to leave my super cheap $650/week rental and pay twice as much somewhere else.

This led me to Agostino. He was renting a very simple brick wall studio in Hell’s kitchen in Manhattan.  After deliberating if that would be a good neighborhood for me, or if I wanted to be somewhere quainter, I put the $1500 bid on a week in his studio. He replied quickly and gave me the place.

we set up an arranged meeting time for him to give me the keys to the apartment. He jokes around with me while I’m in the cab on the way to his place,

“Don’t try to hit on me!”

“Hahaha no problem, don’t try to hit on me!”

“Ok deal, most women try to get me to sleep with them.” He says jokingly. Somehow I’m turned on by the fact that we shouldn’t hit on each other.

My head is kind of spinning because there’s nothing sexier then flirting when you know you’re not supposed to. In this case he was kind of like my “landlord” and me his tenant, and we are having a simple business exchange here. I give him money, he hands me the keys. Simple right?

“I’m tall, with Dark hair, I’ll be standing out front of the apartment.”

“Okay I’m turning left on 9^th street, be there in 2 minutes.” I get nervous as I approach this tall dark and handsome man that I am not supposed to have any attraction towards.

I get out of the cab, he greets me warmly, with salt and pepper hair and helps me with my many bags on this cold February Day in New York.

He lets me inside, shows me the apartment and stays just a little longer than he needs to, but not enough to make it unusual. We have a professional good-bye.

Bed-time rolls around and I crawl under the covers, but 20 minutes later I’m still cold under the blankets, shivering actually. I can’t seem to get warm and the heat is cranked up all the way and it’s not getting warm in the apartment. I text agostino,

“where do you get a space heater?”

“Seriously? Or are you just finding a reason to text me?”

“No I’m really cold!”

“Well the heater works great, but if you want me to bring you a space heater in the morning I will. Text me in the morning if you’re still cold.”

“Agreed…” I thought it was rather interesting he found an excuse to come back over.

“Well actually let me take you out to breakfast.”

I’m a Gemini, I never say no to spontaneous offers! I agree to meet him at 9 in the morning.

Now Agostino isn’t what I would usually go after.. He’s in his mid-40’s, has a son, salt and pepper hair and not necessarily a sculpted body. But he just has an air about him, like I want him to touch me, and that his hands would be hot against my skin and make me melt against his 6 foot 6 frame.

I go to sleep somewhat tickled and anticipating breakfast with agostino.

Ok so it’s 9am and he comes by the apartment. We start to walk the neighborhood on this grey, cold, and wet February morning. It’s drizzling on us and we don’t have an umbrella. We start to graze the blvds like hungry cows looking for a green patch of grass but can’t find any. Every decent restaurant didn’t open until 11am. We seriously couldn’t find a breakfast place open for the life of us! We eventually walked into times square and settled for some super generic hotel restaurant that looked over the blaring lights.

We are looking at each other though, and Time’s Square is looking at us. I’m not sure exactly how the conversation landed on domination, but after so much small talk I think I just said it,

“you’re a dom aren’t you?” I ask him after picking up on his energy.

“Yes women tend to want to submit to me. And I’m good at leading them in that direction.”

“What about you, what is you work here in Ny?”

“I’m a dome too.”

So there ya go. Just spilling the beans wherever I go and telling my air bnb landlord that I’ll be domming clients out of his place. Hahahahahaha.

He doesn’t flinch.

“oh yeah I’ve had girls see clients out of my places. They usually pay me extra though.”

We discuss a few more business ideas, he’s genuinely getting to know me. We finish our meal and walk back to “my” place, he walks me inside, we hug and he says good-bye. I guess we are still trying to maintain some sense of professionalism with each other.

Hours go by and I can’t stop thinking about Agostino. I want to know what it’s like to bow before a big strong man, to let go into his arms, to bear my white ass to his face while he smacks it to his liking. I want to give him this.

I text him; “Agostino, I want to submit myself to you”

“thought so. Ok we will start now.”

Wow, not what I had in mind but I’m down.

“I’m going to give you a series of tasks. Complete them in the next 3 days.”

“ok Yes Agostino.”

“Practice saying my name. Look it up online ‘ahhhh-Gus-Teeee-no’ record yourself saying my name and send it to me.

Write me a letter between 3-5 pages long. You will tell me something you don’t like about yourself, something you like about yourself, something you’re going through right now, and what kind of lover you’d think I would be in bed.

Watch porn on youporn. Send me your top 3 choices.

Get your nails done. Text me when you’re at the nail salon and I will pick your color. Tell them your master is picking the color for you.”

HOLY SHIT.

I had better get busy. As soon as I had a spare moment, I took the time to warm up my vocal chords and say his name in the voice memos of my iPhone. I have to say it gets the body all worked up and nervous to do this because you want to please your master so bad. All I wanted was to please him, to make him happy, to be a good sub for him.

I sent that away. He was pleased at the annunciation and the sultry quality to my voice when I said it.

Next I was to write him this letter. I used to write hand written letters all the time; it’s one of my favorite things to do. But in this day in age we never take the time or thought to put a pen to paper and send them something we touched with our hands.

On my way home from an outcall, I had the cab take me to a card shop near my neighborhood. One of my favorite things about ny is the convenience of all the shops and how you can find anything just about anywhere. I go into the card shop and look through the papers to find the one that suited my personality the most. It ended up being these butterfly and rose cards, and I bought the pack of 20 in which they were sold, which is way more than what I needed. A few new pens were in order as well.

I went home, lit a candle and meditated on what I was to write to him. I poured my heart out, and put pen to paper about this recent relationship that was ripping me up, how we’re not talking anymore, but I’m still in love with him. I’m actually still quite tender from this whole experience and I cry tears onto my letter. I let agostino have all of my confessions, I didn’t hold back.

I was to send the letter the next day, first thing, but it ended up being the 4^th thing.

In the morning, my mind can only think about submitting my heart-felt letter to my master. The order of events;

1.     .    rush out of bed, dress
2.         lipstick on lips, kiss letter, spray with extra         perfume. 
3.     .    run across the street, drop off my laundry. hold     onto letter like it’s sacred
4.          scour the street for a mailbox but can’t find one.
5.          get my morning juice and tea from Starbucks
6.        hop in a cab to go to my hair appointment with ty       (the other air bnb guy I met).

So I speed across the city, worried that my master is going to know that dropping off the letter wasn’t the first thing that I did that day. I land on the salon block, get out of the cab, only to find that ty is late. He’s not even there.  I rushed like a crazy person to be on time for no reason. Okay. Breathe. So I walk down the street, finding the perfect mailbox to finally drop off my confession letter to agostino. A weight is lifted off my shoulders, for I completed my task for my master, and I can’t wait for him to open and read the letter written from my heart and slightly damp from tears.

I sit in Ty’s salon chair (see blog entry Brownstone Apartment, Parlor Floor) and we decide to darken my faded red hair to a dark purple-brown with highlights in the front.  When my hair extensions arrive we will put the extensions in. Ty is always running late, always rushing and always stoned. Not sure if the combination is a winning success.

After finishing my hair I walk down to a popular market center to grab some lunch. It’s fashion week in Ny and there are gorgeous tall, thin and fashionable models everywhere in the market place. I’m feeling shy and inward and hungry. I grab a small salad from the first place I see, consume it, and I’m still starving. So I walk a little further and sit down and order another dish. There are two women sitting next to me discussing designer labels, which dresses they need in which color, and that if they get the Versace dress in green they can scratch the Gucci off their list. It’s absolutely an absurd conversation. I later learn theyare just on a shopping trip from Nashville, Tennessee. Their husbands must be rolling in the dough and wanted to send their wives away to have some fun I thought. They asked me if I was in the fashion industry.

“No,” I replied. “I’m a dominatrix.”

I watch the initial reaction on their faces; the shock reaction sets in, but not severely.

“Well that must be fun. I’m happy you found something you like doing.”

Even though they were being polite I could feel their discomfort with such a profession, and what they imagine it could entail. They leave the table and the male waiter who overheard our conversation smiles at me, acknowledging my female power and gusto to speak openly about myself.

I make my way back to Agostino’s apartment and complete my next task for him; to watch porn on YouPorn and send him the top 3 films that turn me on. I grab a couple of slices of pizza next door then settle in with my computer and doing my homework. This is a hilarious assignment, as I don’t usually watch porn and eat pizza. Actually I hardly do either ACTIVITY.  it makes me EXTREMELY uncomfortable; Trying to eat pizza of all things is even more hilarious while watching lewd sexual acts as I found I couldn’t chew and swallow. I put the pizza aside as I couldn’t stand to eat and I did my research project for agostino. I chose a film of a busty young blond getting in the bathtub and self-pleasuring herself. I find watching women in their natural state enjoying pleasure is one of the most beautiful things to witness; there’s no male imposing his dick on her, making her suck it, she’s not acting like she ‘s enjoying the act, because she is in control of the scene, and doesn’t do anything out of her comfort zone.

The other film that I remember was a foreign film, with actual acting, scenes and sets involved. The female actress was a brunette, busty and curvy, not the typical Barbie-thin representation with fake tits. She was wondering through the city streets and got picked up by two hot males whom proceeded to take her to a barn where they performed all kinds of sexual acts including double penetration. But what was maintained the entire time was the real display of her pleasure; even though the men were taking control, she was in the experience (or so it seemed) the entire time. She was enjoying her feminine sensuality through the male penetrative force.

I sent off my selections to agostino, knowing that he was getting deeper into my psychology and sexual desires as a woman. I have done many things, but double penetration not being one of them; so obviously this film fulfilled that sexual fantasy.  As agostino’s submissive, I always desire his recognition and approval; my wish is to please him, as my master.

The following day I book and see clients. I start to play these lifestyle domination tactics with them; when they would book an appointment I would send them an email with a naughty photo of myself along with instructions on what they were to do before our session together. My new subs were to write down on a piece of paper in red ink that they belonged to me, That their heart was mine, their body was mine, that they would dedicate themselves to me. Then they had to take a picture OF THE DOCUMENT TO THE LOVE MISTRESS and send it to me. Next MY SUBS were to escape away form the daily grind as soon as possible (most were at work) and touch their cock until it became hard and send me a picture of it. They were not to work themselves up to orgasm, as I wanted all of their sexual energy to be as potent as possible when they arrived. One sub I had put a quarter in his shoe and WAS to walk around the entire day thinking of me, his mistress, and to step on the quarter when he wanted to intensify the feeling.

So here I was communicating and pleasing my master, agostino, then running some of the same domination tactics to multiple submissives at THE SAME time. My Gemini brain was on overdrive, I couldn’t type fast enough to each of them, nor could I keep it all straight. How did I prioritize my energy? Did I put my master first, or was I to be responsible to all of my submissives? The brain is not meant to simultaneously be in sub and dom space at the same time. I couldn’t handle it. It was like I was turning 8 wheels at a time and I only have two hands so I was constantly having to spin the wheels so they didn’t loose rotation or momentum, but I couldn’t keep up with it all. I had a complete psychological mishap of who I was, what I was supposed to be doing, which role I was playing, which to me experientially occupy different centers of my brain. It was as if I flipped a switch on all of the centers, and they all lit up with neon lights and it was so blinding I couldn’t see anymore. Have you ever been on too much ecstasy or acid to the point where your brain starts hurting? I needed to come down from all of these games, and fast or I was going to burn out. And I did.

Man after man came in to see me, and each time I would play a slightly different game with him, get into his psychology at a different angle, and of course always heavily seducing them. I could feel my desire to be around the masculine dwindle, my life force start to become depleted, and this is when energetically things can be taken from you.

I continued my yoga practice as this is the best way that I know how to replenish myself.

And then Valentine’s day rolled around. I was sensually taxed. My tactics weren’t working as powerfully, and my charm began to dwindle.

Meanwhile I started to communicate with Wolfie again (we had a falling out after our first session together). I texted him out of the blue and said  “I miss you.”

He texted me back and replied, “I miss you too. Hearing from you is such a relief and just your text make s my dick stand straight up.”

And so, after a month of not speaking, to wolfie, my SUB, he’s re-dedicates himself to me. I start these tactics on him, and this is when he gave his chastity up to me; while I was entirely on the other side of the country and I wasn’t going to be with him for two weeks. He gave his cock to me. I owned it; he couldn’t get off without my permission, nor could any other woman touch his member. This is power that of course pleased me and terrified me; can I handle this great responsibility of taking on a real sub who dedicates a real part of his life for me?

I wrote to Wolfie at night, and requested a letter from him, just as Agostino had requested a letter from me. I put a slightly different twist on it and requested that Wolfie tell me of his first love. And share what kind of dynamic he would like to have with me. He was to seal this intention and dedication to me by coming on the last page. I couldn’t wait to receive this letter. And I've acquired yet another sub while trying to be submissive to one man. heh.

Now back to Agostino; I had three more tasks to complete for him before our “date” on Saturday night where I was to feel his hands on my body; where he was going to spank me for his pleasure, where I was going to bow before my master and do what pleased him.

His request was to work myself to orgasm and record my voice saying his name while I was coming. I also suggested that I send him a video of me touching my pussy. He agreed that was a fine idea. So after domming my subs, I lay down at the end of a busy day, to re-inspire this energy between my dom and i. Even though I enjoy my role as a domme immensely, at the end of the day my deep yearning is to surrender; to completely let go, to not think, not direct, but to be in my natural feminine state. It takes more energy sometimes to be on the top, to have the left-brain working, directing the scene; it is a very masculine place to be in. I wanted to experience my full femininity with agostino; I craved the depth of sensation of simply falling and always being caught in strong hands.

I worked myself up to coming and have to admit the inherent awkwardness in trying to enjoy an orgasm and saying someone’s name at the same time. it is a powerful way of putting an intention into your sexual energy and dedicate it to your master.  In a way he, the master, becomes the deity that I worship. It is a living exchange of divinity if you so choose to revere this rare and unique dynamic between humans. Reverence, discipline, obedience; these are all things that the western mind rarely experiences. We are all rebels paving our own path, listening to no one, adhering to no doctrine, and worship is something that you may only do on Sundays. The correct bdsm exchange can be an avenue in which to experience the extraordinary invisible realms of our psyche, and when pushed far enough, to our divinity.

I take so much pleasure in other’s satisfaction, that it gives me satisfaction. It is a mutual symbiotic relationship into intensified bliss. The power of bdsm just polarizes reality even more-so than normal reality so that we can experience non-duality. So that we can come to this peaceful space within ourselves that we were never actually separate. That we are actually unified with all that is.

Domming A Pro-Dom- My Introduction into Lifestyle Domination

I have made it my goal this year to study and immerse myself as much as I can into the world of BDSM- particularly into the role of Domination in relationship to my Sub or Submissive. To me, this dynamic works like any other relationship-it is important to find the right person to fulfill this role, otherwise it may not be as powerful.

My friend had contacted a male pro-dom off of the Internet whom is offering his 20 plus years of being in the world of domination to train women to get into this line of work. He offers to train you from the bottom-that is the role of the submissive. We had a meeting at Starbucks and discussed the possibilities. I told him of my recent experience of being a Sub from the wrong Dom and how traumatic that was. I was not willing to sub for this Dom.

He agreed to train me from the top-that is, submit to me. If I could get him into deep Sub-space (a state of completely erotic surrender) than essentially this would be a success!

After much contemplation as to whether or not I wanted to take this hard-core personality as my teacher; this all black-wearing, black haired man that believes in hard-core humiliation and pain tactics in order to dominate subjects- despite all this I agreed to be his student, and of course to coax him into submission to me; his Queen, his Mistress, the object of his desire, and only fulfillment. I was going to make Wolfie completely mine.

I show up to his LA apartment a week later slightly apprehensive, to a chaotic environment of curious, barking dogs. He yells at all of them with an authoritative voice, almost over-asserting his power to them. His apartment is old and dingy, with pictures of Wolves on the wall. He goes by Wolf, and is part of a Native American tribe and tradition. His thin with wiry muscles, shoulder length black hair and crooked teeth compliment his personality. Not the traditional beauty standard. But what I didn’t know is what a GREAT SUBMISSIVE my WOLFIE MADE!

Nothing is more pleasurable to a dominant woman than a submissive male-someone who is willing to go to great lengths-even sacrifice his comfort in order to serve his Mistress.  A man that takes pleasure out of the woman’s pleasure and delight; even if that means belittling and inflicting pain upon him. His only purpose, when we are together, is to make me happy.

As his student, he discusses a few possibilities of how we can start the scene, and his likes and dislikes. For example I cannot compare him to a dog because he holds them sacred, and he has a few physical limitations because of past injuries. He suggests I begin by making him naked and having him kneel at my feet. He pulls out his favorite whip for me to use on him. I have no other tools to work with, just the energetic power of being in total and control, and him being in total and utter surrender to me.  I take this into consideration but I’m much better at improving my scenes and feeling the energy in the room than I am going to someone else’s plan.

He leaves the room, I prepare, and then he re-enters as my Sub.

Since Wolfie is a fitness expert, I begin by taking my subject’s shirt off and having him do 20 pushups and kiss my shoe on the way down as he counts to 20. He is below me, using the force of his body to prove his dedication to me. He tires around 15 but completes the round. His shoulder injury and age does prevent him from doing a few things as well as he use to. I stand him up, make him raise his arms parallel to the ground, he keeps his eyes lowered to me. I test the sensitivity of his nipples and slap him repeatedly across the chest until he screams mercy and starts to shake at the knees, while he’s still holding his arms up in the air. I slap him a few more times, keeping his arms as so until he is shaking and needs to bring them down.

At some point I kneel him down before me and use his mouth as a toy for my breast to fuck. I love reducing my subjects to holes of pleasure that I use for my own enjoyment; their only purpose is to please me, this wet juicy mouth to suck and fuck and please my nipple. I grab the back of his neck by his hair and move his head forcefully back and forth as his mouth fucks my nipple. Traditionally you see this scene by a man grabbing a woman’s hair while she is deep throating his cock. I’m more than happy to flip this power dynamic. This puts us both in a turned-on frenzied euphoria; he looses himself in the action and my body is flooded with passion. As a Domme, even though I experience moments of Submissive pleasure, I do not allow myself to get lost in this pleasure; my responsibility is to maintain my power and control, and to not break my role in the session.

I proceed to make him bend over for me as I spank him, and eventually he becomes completely lost in sub-space, with my finger down his throat, head arched back only able to stutter the words “Yes Mistress”.

Because he pulled his favorite tool of the whip, I have to use it on him even though I’ve never used it before. I shorten it by wrapping it around my hand a few times and start cracking on Wolfie’s back. It’s difficult to describe Sadistic pleasure; perhaps I have inner violent tendencies that I wish to act out but can’t; it’s a way to feel your force over someone; but in a safe way because they are consenting to the pain and how much you administer. I whip on him repeatedly as he shakes against each blow of the pain; I make his back red with marks, but do not break any skin. I’m still a moderate Domme in the amount of pain I inflict; I like to take my Subs just to the edge, but not completely obliterate them. My goal is to have them aroused and on edge, not cringing in fear and pain.

I lay him down on his bed, face up, and crawl up above his head. We are both topless, and have our jeans on. I hover my pussy above his head, just enough for me to feel the heat of his breath on my most tender parts, and for him to smell my womanliness.  His cock is asking for it by now, begging for touch. I press my hand down firmly on his member, tapping on and around it. I still want him to be on edge of the pleasure/pain dynamic and not feel to safe around me. We play and tease here for a while, and I contemplate just ending the session until he can’t take it anymore. I decide to bestow compassion on my subject and tell him that I want him to come for me but he must get all of his come into a glass jar for me. That I want all of his come bottled up for me; none may go to waste. He’s so excited by the prospect of coming for me he races out of the room as fast as he can to find a jar and comes racing back, and we not get him naked. He caresses his member quite firmly and with ravenous delight until he comes for me. His jar is too little and drops are flying on his wood floor and some makes it in the jar. Next time I’ll have him drink the come .

We end our session and Wolfie becomes Wolf again because he has to evaluate me as a student. He was very pleasantly surprised at my skill level and his level of Submission to me. Technically I was paying him to teach me. But what became of our teacher/student relationship soon became much more intimate and real.

Wolfie wanted to give all of himself to me; he wanted to be in chastity to me, for me to own his cock, his body, to tell him what to do and when to do it. He wanted to worship me as his Queen, and service me in whatever way that I requested. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into….Such a naïve little girl: )

He Was the Perfect Seduction...And Now the Last Good-bye

A little video audio for the way I feel right now;

http://vimeo.com/49881094

He was the perfect Seduction.

And now we have said our last good-bye’s .

My heart still doesn’t understand why. In my heart we were the perfect match, perfect lovers; he was the perfect amount of crazy to my fairy wonderland fantasy life. He understood where I dwelled and annunciated My intellect.

He always dressed in black, but not in a gothic way, always in the perfect European stylish way. Occasionally he would throw in a light grey t-shirt. He always had his jewelry; a few wrist pieces, rings, a few necklaces. This always pleased my inner aestheticism. And his smell….FUCK HIS SMELL. I could just smell that smell and fall back in love with him. His stance, always confident and cocky, his words elevated and silly, expressing creative concepts beyond normal reality. We liked the same music, played on the same edges of reality. Fuck we could even hang at burningman together. But he didn’t want me. Not in the way that I wanted him. My heart-break just continued on with each communication that he couldn’t live out. His integrity is shit. He could make solid plans with everyone except me…I was always the maybe mark on his calendar.

So we said our last good-bye. It’s really over this time. I know it’s for the best, but my heart doesn’t understand why he can’t just pick me up in his black range rover, we can blast some beats and we can just ride into the sunset laughing our asses off together. I feel like he threw away love. I feel like he didn’t honor, value or cherish it. I feel like this beautiful and rare opportunity to be in this loving joy was just flushed down the toilet. And for a lover (beyond everything that’s what I am) I still don’t understand.