Thursday, June 30, 2005
As much as I adore technology, almost to the point of geekdom, is as much as I hate it when it doesn't work properly.
Today, as I've tried for the umpteenth time now to get it to work on both a PC and a Mac, my little Dazzle card reader has let me down. Oh it lights up all right, plugs in like a champ, gives me the impression that all is well in card-reader-land. But then when I slide in the Smart Media card... nothing.
I try again and again, first sliding the card in gently then more forcefully, carefully wiping off it's surface, and first laying blame on a faulty old 128 mb card. But then just as a test, I slide the card back into my trusty Olympus... and it works fine!
So it's the evil Dazzle out to ruin my day. In a bit of misguided rage, I threw it across the room. With nothing significant to hit, it just plopped to the floor. I picked it up gingerly, brought it back to the computer, and plugged it in.
And once again, it taunted me with its little green light - on.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
A Titleholder Contest FOR the Community, CHOSEN by the Community, CONNECTING the Community
SoCal Leather Productions proudly announces the first annual Southern California LeatherWoman competition! Mark your calendars for Saturday, August 6!
The evening’s events will kick off with a meet and greet at 5 p.m. The competition begins at 7 p.m., followed by a sure to be titilating fashion show by Octaviana, whose leather designs will be modeled by by HOT men and women. The contest results will be announced and the first
Southern California Leatherwoman will be sashed and crowned! The evening will culminate at 9 PM with a not-to-be missed play party complete with men-only, women-only and pan play spaces.
~ Contest Emceed by Gene Mar, Mr. Regiment 2002 and Vibby Bramlett, California Leather Woman 2003 ~
~ Celebrate the diversity of our SoCal BDSM/Leather Community ~
Southern California LeatherWoman
Saturday, August 6, 2005
Passive Arts Studios at 10914 So. La Cienega Bl in L.A.Just East of LAX at the 405 and 105 Freeways
All the details:
Who is Southern California LeatherWoman?
She is Southern California’s BDSM/Leather representative! She’s vibrant, enthusiastic, and incredibly passionate about our community and our lifestyle. She travels Southern California meeting community members, exchanging ideas, connecting people and organizations, and bridging our individual communities so as to strengthen our sense of family, our sense of unity.
She serves as a connection between our het/bi/pan bdsm and gay leather communities. She is an ambassadress and a diplomat. She exudes humor, poise, and tact. She is straight, bi, lesbian, transgender, butch, fem, Top, bottom, Mistress/Master, slave, Domme, submissive, switch, vers, boi, girl.
Why is the Southern California LeatherWoman Title Unique?
Because her CHARITY is the community and she is CHOSEN BY the community. She is the connector between our BDSM/Leather communities. She listens to and supports the community by bringing people and organizations together.
Instead of judges, it is WE, men and women of the bdsm/leather community, on the night of the contest, who will select the woman we feel best represents us, and is best able to connect all of us and our organizations.
Her expenses are paid the title owner and she doesn't fundraise, freeing her to focus solely on the community.
She will serve one full calendar year, after which she has the option of running for another title with the support of the Title Owner, SoCal Leather Productions.
The Contest will contain three components:
Persona and Image ~*~ Community Q and A ~*~ Fantasy
It is YOU, the men and women of the Leather/BDSM community in the audience, who will be the judges. YOUR written questions will be asked of the contestants. YOU will have a ballot and will vote for the contestant you feel best exemplifies the qualities and personality you wish to have representing the Southern California Leather/BDSM community. Ballots will be distributed prior to the contest and counted by a community TallyMaster/Mistress.
To fill out a contestant application, go to:
How can our organization/club get involved?
All BDSM/Leather organizations are invited to set up informational displays with brochures, poster boards, flyers, etc. Set up time is 12 noon to 3 p.m. All displays must be stricken by 2 AM.
Where is the host hotel?
The Clarion Hotel at LAX will be the host hotel for the Southern California LeatherWoman competition to be held Saturday, August 6. Room rates are $73.00 per night if reserved at least two weeks prior to the event. Phone 1-800-266-2200 or 1-310-695-3277 and mention SoCal Leather Productions to get the special room rate. The Clarion is located at 5249 West Century Blvd just one mile from the contest venue, Passive Arts Studio, and the 405 and 105 freeways.
The Southern California LeatherWoman Contest is produced by:
SoCal Leather Productions, Duff Roberts - Producer
slave boi eddie, International Ms BootBlack 2003
girl debbie - PR Coordinator
Jennifer Miller - WebMistress
For more information please visit:
For inquiries from the media and leather organizations, please contact
girl debbie, PR Coordinator, at firstname.lastname@example.org
For general inquiries and questions, please contact email@example.com, firstname.lastname@example.org or SoCalLeatherProductions@yahoo.com
So we shall see.
What I'm watching in the meantime (and oldie but one that bears repeating):
Luckily - for once - I remembered to take a backup of all of my reciprocal links. So if Blogrolling is out of commission or has longer-standing issues, I'll put them all back up as hardlinks.
That will be a huge pain in the ass. Someone had better send me a present (some shoes? makeup? cash?) or I'll get really cranky...
There is something undeniably sexy about watching someone smoke - seductively. Others have made that blanket statement without the qualifying word, which is "seductively". Take a look around when you're in a group of smokers (less easy to find these days, especially here in the US, but you can still find 'em if you look hard enough). For the most part, I wouldn't say that watching most people smoke is sexy. Unless they're "working it", it's not a sexy habit.
I've never been serious about my smoking... I'm a lightweight in that arena (Capri 120s, mostly), and only on occasion these days. Plus, here in Los Angeles, where is there that it's still legal to actually smoke? You can't smoke inside, can't smoke in bars or restaurants, can't smoke on the beach, can't smoke in basically any public places....
I guess that's one way to quit.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
I hate it * I hate it * I hate it
As much as I have enjoyed foot worship, I cannot sit still for a pedicure. Foot worship is a different animal altogether, someone at my feet because they believe that's where they should be, someone at my feet simply because they adore and are aroused by the scent of female feet, someone at my feet licking the dirt off of my soles because they have been ordered to do so and the humiliation of purrforming degrading acts turns them on... I have spectacularly long toes which are very flexible (and come in handy for toe pinching).
Despite my aversion to the professional pedicure, I do like to take care of my feet and keep my toes in tip-top shape, but I do it myself. There is nothing in the world like a nice warm bubble bath, then some moisturizing lotion really rubbed in (not just rubbed on), then some filing and scratching, and then the painting.
And on this I am a classicist - I always go for red.
Monday, June 27, 2005
An incredible story about emperor penguins and their circle of life. Highly recommended (two whips up!)
Friday, June 24, 2005
Creative blocks. Creativity. Lack of such. Inability to concentrate. Too many things going on at once to devote proper attention to any one.
As I look around my office maliciously, I'm thinking that maybe instead of planning world domination, purrhaps I should just go get some lunch.
That will do for today... but who knows what will happen this weekend when I'm free to roam?
(insert wicked, overly-dramatic laughter here)
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Today is the day that the 2257 regulations go into effect here in the US - and the day that many adult businesses will either shut their doors, move offshore, or have been pulling their hair out in order to get everything in order for....
Text of the new law is here:
An explanation of the changes are here:
If you are involved in the adult industry, please consider donating to the Free Speech Coalition: http://www.freespeechcoalition.com
This is important stuff kitties, and will effect how/what adult materials your government allows you to see in the future.
Instructions on how to clean your toilet
1. Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.
2. Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
3. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.
4. The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.
5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash" and rinse".
6. Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.
7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.
8. The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.
9. Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
My most recent supplier of lovely heels has moved on in his life, to a place where he can no longer provide the regular correspondence and (most importantly) the footwear that was the cement in our Domina/slave relationship.
The qualities I am seeking in someone are:
Generosity - Shoe and boot slaves must truly adore their position, for they will be asked to procure exotic footwear for me, which is generally relatively expensive.
Regularity - This is a regular, ongoing position, and once a schedule is agreed upon I expect it to be fulfilled... whether it's a once a week or once a month arrangement.
Creativity - In the past, shoe slaves have chosen special pairs on their own, added special touches inside boxes that arrived (including extra pairs, special socks or hosiery), written poetry, and the like.
Each week or month as my newest pair of heels arrive, I take photos for you of me unwrapping the package, trying on the shoes, and modelling them for you. Sometimes I've even sent a pair of my worn-out ones to especially devoted slaves. It all depends on you - your level of devotion to the heel fetish, and to me!
Interested parties email me directly: email@example.com
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
A Panda walks into a bar and asks the bartender for a meal. When the meal finally arrives, he eats it quickly, then shoots a drunk, and leaves the bar.
A patron walks over to the bartender and asks, "What was that all about?"
The bartender replies, "Look up 'panda' in the dictionary, pal."
And so, the patron retrieves his Webster's dictionary from his coat pocket and looks up the word 'panda.'
"What's it say?" asks the bartender.
The patron replies with a grin, "Eats shoots and leaves."
Several folks have asked me about the accordion I'm holding on my website - yes it's mine, and yes I play, and yes I generally have a long Capri 120 hanging from my mouth while I'm doing so. It's a vintage Italian model, still in great shape with the power to bring slaves to their knees. It's not a schtick - I'm not punctuating one-liners with it - it's actually kind of hypnotic (ok, stay with me here) in that it's very rhythmic and makes the body sway as I play...
Basically most slaves are just so surprised when I pull out the accordion (usually after a heavy beating or during some electrical play) it breaks up any tension... also a great way to bring a slave back from "sub space" quickly and get them the hell out the door, when necessary of course...
Monday, June 20, 2005
My disdain for LA has been well-documented, even taking into account some of the very amazing things and people that I've encountered while here.
The first day of summer of the first year that I spent here in Los Angeles was a memorable one... a longterm slave of mine, whom I had only seen previously in New York City when he was travelling, lived out in the desert near Palm Springs. A purrticularly generous slave, someone who I both enjoyed his company immensely as well as his gentlemanly reimbursement skills. A connoisseur of unusual bondage positions, lycra, and high heels.
I decided to make the drive out to the desert to see him for an extended session. A long drive to be sure, but as it was my first time driving out there I didn't really mind - I'd left early enough in the morning with my purrsonal slave (at the time) so the heat wasn't even that dreadful. I stopped at the diner with the T-Rex (where a scene in the Pee Wee Herman movie was filmed - I love Pee Wee - of course I had to go up inside the dinosaur through it's butt), had a fine, greasy grilled cheese sandwich and fries and continued out to my destination.
His place was just outside of Palm Springs, slightly isolated but close enough to town to probably be a part of Palm Springs proper. When I went to the front door, it was open, and he was inside on his knees in the living room in full lycra dress - catsuit that covered him from head to toe with only a ninja-style opening at the eyes. I was ecstatic, and directed my purrsonal slave to fetch some rope from the car.
My desert slave had set up a sort of treasure hunt for me - first I saw a large amount of blue rope coiled on the table. I picked it up, intending to use it, when I saw a note fall to the floor. It read - Thank you Mistress - with an arrow pointing toward another part of the room. Curiosity piqued, I looked in that direction to see a large box with a bow (how did I miss that when I first walked in?). Opening the box I saw a pair of exquisite high heels, black leather pumps with 7" heels and 2" platforms, the Demask ones that I'd wanted. Giggling with happiness, I put them on and heard him moaning. I paraded in front of him for awhile like that, as he stayed on the floor on all fours, until my purrsonal slave returned from the car with the requested rope.
I looked around for a suitable place to begin my tying. And then it was obvious - outside in the backyard there was a purrfect palm tree, situated between two others that were more delicate. I went outside to prepare my ropes and called for them both.
My purrsonal slave's job was to keep me shielded from the suns rays at all times - a black umbrella (with fringe, naturally) would do the trick. My desert slave stood at attention (in all ways, naturally) and steadied himself against the middle palm tree. I began by tying his wrists together behind the tree and worked my way up and down his body, encircling it in rope, and tying a beautiful web between his bonds and the two adjoining trees. Really beautiful bondage, not inescapable nor overly tight, just the kind that a true connoisseur could enjoy the feeling of restriction for many hours. No words were exchanged, just glances, and I could see that I'd made a good choice.
I had a plan - to leave him tied up and helpless - and to go stay at a local motel for the evening. I told him of it as I was finished tying - I brought him his cell phone and placed it near his feet. I would expect a call from him before evening, before darkness fell, saying that he had loved being in bondage and that he had managed to extricate himself. If I did not get this call, then I would come over immediately and untie him. He understood, my slave moved away the umbrella, I said my goodbye and left.
Back at the motel I sank into the hot tub and waited. Bondage is always a risk - generally I would stay close by to watch to be sure that nothing unpleasant or dangerous happened, but I knew this slave well and could leave him for many hours before. The difference now was the surroundings - his own home, helpless in the backyard, in a compromising position and outfit (to be sure), and the blazing sun. I had a light meal and a relaxing massage, all within reach of my cell phone.
Then the call came.
At about 7:00 he called. He had just extricated himself after several hours of slowly trying, trying to make the feeling last as long as possible, deep inside his head. He was drenched in sweat, and was going to jump into the shower with his catsuit on. He was walking toward the bathroom as he spoke. Then I heard a gasp of surprise. All of those hours spent in the sun had given him a nasty sunburn... mostly on his face around his eyes, so he now had a bright red reverse ninja mask!
I laughed and he loved it. It would be something relatively easy to explain to anyone who asked (forgot the sunblock one day and borrowed these weird glasses, or just sit out again and try to even out), and each time that happened he would be reminded of the day we spent together in the desert.
I was happy too, all went very well. On the drive back I got to stop at the outlet mall at Cabazon and spend much of what I'd just earned.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Looking for someone to tie up models for bondage photos? I'm your gal. See my website for more details about me: http://www.katja-minx.com
I am an experienced dominatrix, fetish model & purrformer, and have an exhaustive fetish wardrobe of leather, latex, corsetry, boots & other accoutrements if you require me as a Domina in some photos (clothing/boots not for hire). I'm not a flake, I'm a true professional, and expect the same with those I work with.
I have hundreds of feet of colored and plain rope for exotic photoshoots and videoshoots, and can procure other colors for special needs. Fees are negotiable, depending on your needs and requirements. Travel is possible, with all expenses paid.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Sometimes I like to just pull one down and start rifling through it, and this morning I pulled down one box that was full of bondage equipment and there it was - my black with red trim leather high heel shoe gag. It's a spectacular piece, and purrticularly effective. It holds the toe end of a high heeled shoe (the pointier the better) in place in a slave's mouth, then locks around the back of his head. Very humbling, especially for the hardcore heel fetishist. It works best with non-platform court type pumps.
Brought back some great memories.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Recent writings from a distance-training slave...
*my feelings* by slave
i am at the threshold of a mixture of fear and comfort that i have never known before. events have been so uncanny, when they involve Mistress Katja Minx. first, there are the changes in physical circumstances, that happen when i am doing my slave duties to Her: these are *uncanny*: there is no other word for it. but when my reality is torn open and unexpected things happen, they give me comfort. i am not certain how to describe this combination of emotions, that are never combined in hum-drum lives. it is not a high-volume, high-amperage, state of reality. actually, when things are most uncanny they are cool, calm, and in fact just the right temperature and condition for comfort. an internet kiosk miraculously appears on a Saturday, when i am on vacation in Brunswick, Maine. a piece of software that has always perfectly done its job, telling me when an email is incoming, failed tonight--just when Mistress Katja Minx's email came. it was a bizarre failure: it lagged on the sign-in process and stayed lagged. when i noticed this i was resigned yet frightened, for it was not the first such co-incidence. i thought to myself that, if Mistress Katja Minx's email had come while the software went into its unique, bizarre, and unprecedented limbo, then it was a certain sign of Her power over my entire reality. i checked the mail: Mistress Katja Minx's email had come during this time. yet how re-assuring it is to get desired mail. i stare worshipfully at a picture of Mistress Katja Minx, and the screen-saver comes on just as i reach meditative absorption on the image. i ask my ex-wife, whom i take care of, to do without me on a trip out of town to visit relatives: she goes, just before mail from Mistress Katja Minx arrives, bearing a collar tag. the timing is perfect, and unsettling. i am grateful for the condtions of comfort even in an uncanny and synchronicity-laden dance of phenomena. i am danced down into slavery. so, i keep coming back to the notion of perfect weather. it is not like the advent of some psychotropic drug, or like the different sort of disruption--Tibetans call it trek-cho, or cutting completely--in habit, that can happen when a Vajra Guru pops you open. it is just as surprising and total, in the assumption of control of the Other over the phenomenal world you live in: but this is a perfectly easy new world to get along in, that comes about when You tear away my habitual patterns of reality. when i lived at Buddhist retreat centers, we would sometimes all stare at each other in disbelief at things that happened in that environment, which was charged with magic. so it is a comfortable dissolution of accustomed reality. for the moment. i really cannot describe the exact contours of this amazing fusion of *total* uncanniness (which usually gives me the chills)--as custom and habit is ousted--and total comfort. like a cat taking a terrifying and seeminly preposterous leap, everything twirls in mid-air as it takes a completely unforeseeable trajectory--and then lands, perfectly, skillfully. and walks away sans souci. at any rate i am so grateful for this, and thank you. the two decades on and off with major gurus, which led to some real ripped-open experiences, were not necessary. i think they left a certain hardness and cynicism deep inside, in what was originally a stupendously sensitive boy. i am still shaken that my postman saw the word "slave," but he is usually nice to me, and i to him. the humiliation is delicious and perfectly placed. i must get a post office box, but for now the resonance is good, from that bit of public acknowledgment of slavery. it built lots of confidence and enthusiasm and assurance. i am so happy and so grateful and so proud/humbled, to have received the device identifying me as Your property. thank You, Mistress Katja Minx.
copyright Mistress Katja Minx writing originally published on www.katja-minx.com
Portland June 23-28
Meet & Greet Buck Angel
Friday, June 24, 2005
$5 donation encouraged
8:00 pm - midnight
Darklady Estates(RSVP firstname.lastname@example.org for details)
Love & Lust During Time of Transition: A Female-to-Male Transsexual
PerspectivePresentation & Audience Q&A
Saturday, June 25, 20051:00 pm - 5:00 pm
Portland State University
Smith Memorial HallRooms 228 & 298
Co-sponsored by PSU Women's Resource Center
Send Questions to: email@example.com
Saturday, June 25, 2005
9:00 pm - 2:00 am
Ages 18 and above(RSVP firstname.lastname@example.org for details)
Proceeds to benefit Blackout Leather Productions
Write email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org for moreinformation.
More information about Buck Angel can be gained at:www.buckangel.com and www.transexual-man.com or on his blogs: buckangel.blogspot.com transexualman.blogspot.com
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Want to trade links?
I will place your link in my blogroll which shows up on all of my blogs:
Lets trade! - email to: email@example.com
When I first started out on the internet (more than 10 years ago) there wasn't much to see - I had a Macintosh TV - yes, a black one - a crappy modem and Mosaic. It was extremely possible back then to "get to the end of the internet" because there just wasn't much available, and it was really hard to find. Especially fetish-wise. All of my clothing, shoes, and equipment were purrchased by mail from the backs of dirty magazines or an occasional early issue of Skin Two or another fetish magazine (when I could find one), generally from either the UK or Germany, and at great expense - exchange rates, shipping costs, customs costs - and when you sent out your few pounds or marks (gotten from your local bank where they looked at you like you were insane) for a catalog, you just hoped it was a real company. Most of the time, a catalog arrived several weeks later to salivate over, and then the real fun began - trying to order something from overseas from a company that hasn't existed for very long (a few were long timers, like Kunzmann), for an item that may or may not fit when you receive it.
It was definitely nerve-wracking and full of mistaking-making, but it was exciting. The rush of actually getting everything together to place the order was great. The waiting for it to arrive had a certain ache, but then when that package arrived at the door or was waiting at the post office, it was heaven.
Now of course this is all basically a moot point - even if you do order from overseas, the internet has made it easier to see what you're buying, what the sizes are, and just put in your credit card information here and we'll get that right out to you. There is still the ache while you're waiting for the parcel to arrive, but it's not the same. It doesn't have that "dirty" feel to it anymore, like you're buying something that you definitely shouldn't, something "bad". Something for sex. Something that should stay a secret. Something that if the neighbors found out you were buying they'd be appalled.
I miss that.
Monday, June 13, 2005
I arrived at the door, as instructed. I put myself here willingly, I must remind myself, seeing Mistress Katja Minx has become as essential to my existence as food, water, or air. But was I ready to totally relax and surrender myself to Her will, as she requires? I contemplated this as I entered Her dungeon.
Dimly lit, dark & foreboding, the deliberately placed lighting pulled me in toward the bondage table. I obeyed its luminescent call and slowly walked toward it as I could see little else. Then as if out of nowhere, the door slammed shut behind me. I turned, terrified, to stare into the dark nothingness, for I could not see the hand that had closed it so suddently for my eyes still had not adjusted and could not focus clearly. But I could still hear Her. The distinctive click of Her high heels on the cold, hard floor. But where exactly was She? The sound bounced off the walls in much the way a ping pong ball travels. Even, concentrated, a sould like a metronome that slowly became the soundtrack of my slavery. How I wished to fall to the floor at that very moment and worship Her boots - I have had the exquisite please of being permitted to kiss and worship several pair of Her boots in the past when my suffering has pleased Her - not always of course, I undersatnd that it is a prviledge to be earned and not an automatic reward to be squandered.
The dark, musky smell of leather intoxicates me. Whenever I get a whiff of it - on the street, in a store, or in the dungeon, my body immediately becomes warm and my cock swollen. I have to fight the urge to drop to the floor and drown myself in its odor as well as to hide my erection. Most especially when I am in the dungeon, as the Mistress prefers my entire body to be under her direct control. I do hope that someday soon She will see fit to place me in prolonged chastity. I have already begun my6 search for the perfect device, which I will purchase and present to Her when She deems the timing just right. Must wafts through the air. Lost in my leather-drenched thoughts, I had lost contact with reality for a short, but very pivotal moment. She had crossed the room, chosen a CD, and begun playing it. Exotic Indian rhythms filled the room, fueling my fantasies, mesmerizing me. Relaxing yet full of incredible fear, I fell backwards onto the table as I could hear Her approach.
Her presence enters a room before She does. This is a quality both rare and erotic, I have never met another Domina who possesses it to the same extent, nor embodies it as Mistress Katja Minx does. Physically she is impressive; tall, strong, and sleek, Her waist curves in that most female hourglass shape, legs a mile long, long black hair, porcelain skin... I could go on for volumes about Her beauty, but She is not merely beautiful. That would be selling Her far short. The glint in Her eyes as I scream under Her ministrations, Her full, throaty laugh at my expense, Her cat-like grace as She moves... the perfect package. Alas I do drift off on these tangents way too easily, as I am suddently brought back to harsh reality by a smack adcross the face so hard as to knock me off my feet. Thank goodness I was standing so close to the bondage table as I surely would have fallen to the floor, and knowing my clumsiness, would definately have injured myself. Instead, I fell toward the table, using it to brace myself and soothe my aching cheek.
"Good afternoon", was all She said. That voice. That voice that has enslaved me. Instinctively my eyes glued to the floor as I could not even begin to look at Her as of yet, I begged Her pardon and began to stammer. For which my reward was another sharp slap across the face.
"Remove your clothing". I did as I was told, quickly and neatly placing my clothing on a chair. I could feel Her eyes watching me, and felt my heart beating faster. Once I was entirely nude, I returned to the place in front of Her near the bondage table. Where did She get all of that rope? I could swear that when I had seen Her only a minute ago, there was no rope to be seen. Now the black rope pooled at Her ankles in a large pile and She was pulling it through Her fingers. I heard the soles of Her boots tapping. Then the sound of rope being drawn through fingers.
So it was to be bondage. This is both my most and least favorite activity. I always balk at first because until I am completely hypnotized I cannot relax enough. I wriggle, my skin itches at inconvenient moments, and I am a pain in the ass in general. She knows this. My eyes wandered from the pool of rope to Her feet, and I let out a startled cry. She was wearing the most exquisite boots I had ever seen... as my eyes took in this amazing sight, my nost became overwhelmed with their scent. My mind could not begin to calculage how high the heels were, 9 or 10 inches? A high front platform, maybe 4 or 5 inches? But of this I could be sure... the toes were pointy and the long zippers on the inside must reach to the top of the boots - yet, I could not raise my eyes to see how high they climbed. The heels were thin and tapered, sexy, elegant, and evil.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Allow me to introduce you. These are my newest boots, custom made for me. The exquisite heels are 9" high, the thick black leather hugs my legs perfectly, and the boot shaft rises high on my thighs. Why don't you snap out of that stupor and get a closer look"? She didn't have to ask twice. I threw myself to the floor and the sensations were overwhelming: the cold hardness of the floor on my naked body, the warmth of Her feet inside those amazing boots... I began kissing them, starting on the front of the platforms, working my way slowly around, contorting myself so that She does not have to move (as She prefers). The pleasure is to be brief, as She orders me to stand. As I stand, I can now appreciate Her full height. In those boots, She towers over me, making me feel even more powerless and insignificant than before. The rope slides between her long fingers, looping around my neck.
"Tell me you're ready", She said.
"I am ready, Mistress", I said, and I meant it. Like a snake, She expertly coiled the rope around my body, pulling tighter in some areas, more loosely in others. Twist and pull, knot and tighten. I could feel each part of my body becoming paralyzed, unable to move, and my breathing becoming more shallow and restricted. All the while my eyes were glued to Her boots as She circled and encircled me. The exotic rhythms and the winding actions of the rope in Her hands transfixed me. Without a word, She moved my body down onto the table, on my back. The fluffy white pillow brushed against my cheeks, making my whole body tingle. It became a struggle now to control my erection. She had said nothing so far about its occasional presence, was She testing me? I know from recent beatings that I must control it and allow Her to have control over all of my functions, so I tried valiantly to maintain focused and do as I have been trained. I could not begin to tell you how long it took for Her to completely immobilize me. Time became a completely arbitrary thing, vastly unimportant and impossible to measure anyway. What seemed like miles of rope, so tightly intertwined around every inch of my body... first She would wrap one section of my body and then its corresponding other side, as She has told me many times of the important of balance in all things. Perfectly symmetrical and diabolically effective. Once my body was wrapped, it was tied to the table, again using each wrapped point to attach it to the table, then strings pulling upwards from my harness of hell both relieved pressure and increased it. I wanted to cry out, but I stopped myself, my body remembering past beatings for unnecessary cries. Through the web, with the aid of the tiny lights that twinkled overhead on the canopy above the bondage bed, I could see Her face. Twisted in concentration, I was reminded of how serious of an exercise this is for Her - how important that the knots are tied just tightly enough, and how the ropes lay just so. Otherwise, I would not be able to stay encased in this way for nearly long enough to please her, and that would certainly mean that I would not be invited back. My greatest fear - far worse than any physical or mental tortures that She could devise - would be if She would banish me from Her presence. I could think of nothing worse. This line of thinking lulled me back into my relaxed state, just as She had tied the last rope and finished off the final knot. I waited for some instruction, perhaps even I dared to think, some praise for my performance, but there was to be none. Her heels moved away from me, I could hear them yet not see then, nor Her, as my head was securely lashed to the table. As they clicked away, I wondered if She too planned to leave.
I was rewarded with total darkness - She had flipped the light switch off and now I was plunged deep into my own head, devoid of any outside stimuli save the tight ropes which firmly bound my body. Had she left the room? Or was She still there, watching my every move? After a moment of panic, I realized that I would not be able to tell and that was exactly as She had planned it. She knew I would panic, anticipated my weaknesses, and expertly exploited them. I drifted off into what could most closely be approximated as sleep, but in which I was far more aware and less at the mercy of my brains' own terrifying scenarios. I could feel Her presence even if I could not see nor hear Her, much less know if She was even in the building. And then I slept...
The distinctive feel of rope scraping across skin. The light impressions and abrasions that remain. The skin returning, slowly, to its original position. Blood once again moving freely through its vast network of arteries and veins. Breath, blessed breath, returning as lungs fully expand and contract. Was I still asleep? My mind struggled to remember. As I regained consciousness fully, my ears made out that distinctive sound that effects me much as that bell affected Pavlov's dog - the click of high heels. As I tried to sit up, I felt no ropes binding me anywhere, and slowly raised my body to a sitting position.
"Ouch!", I cried, as something heavy landed on my chest, knocking me back down on the table. As the shock wore off, I felt around for what had hit me, as the door slammed shut. They were my own clothes. Silently and in complete darkness, I dressed. More difficult than it sounds, but I had soon gotten myself into what I assumed must be presentable condition. I stumbled through the darkness in search of the light switch, which must have been quite comical should anyone have been able to see me, but I soon found it and turned on the main light. The light pierced through my eyes, instantly making me regret my decision to seek it out, and I tried vainly to find the switch again to turn it off.
And then that laugh.
I sat down on the floor, waiting for my eyes to focus. Facing the bondage table, I saw the piles of rope that had until recently been my cage. Blinking agin, colors began to take shape and ocme into sharper focus. I could see a large white rectangle inside the pile of ropes which I had not seen before, and I crawled toward it. As I came closer, I reached out and held it up to the light. It was a newspaper. It was dated Wednesday.
My session began on Monday.
story copyright Mistress Katja Minx, originally published on www.katja-minx.com