Leather on leather

Attention, I have some lovely leather additions to my wardrobe available for worship. Sadly, I do not have a pair of
leather gloves to complete my attire.

Mail order slave

Just the other day the catalog Uline arrived in my mail box. Usually I recycle such riffraff, but today, I flipped through and happened upon some stellar industrial plastic wrap (cling film). What colors! Black, purple and red are my immediate favorite colors being that they don’t have hot pink, of course.

I think the best use for such an abundance of pretty plastic wrap would be to wrap up an able body slave and have him delivered to my door. I would be so excited when my ordered slave arrived, coming home to a large box, marked “this end up.” I’ve been waiting weeks for such a special delivery. I open the box, packing peanuts come tumbling out and there stands my slave wrapped in purple plastic wrap. Too excited to look for a pair of scissors, I begin tearing the wrap with my sharp black nails. Finally, a pile of purple plastic is on the floor around the feet of my new slave. This—is not—what I ordered!

First of all, this slave is too hairy. I specifically remember checking off hairless on the order form. Well, perhaps I can work with that. I grab the dog hair trimmers and start hacking away to see if I can take this down to size. Hmmm, that’s a little bit better. But what are these two roundish objects down here? I most certainly do not require those. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. My daddy grew up on a farm and told me he used to castrate goats with just a rubber band and time. Moving quickly, I get a large purple rubber band from the asparagus and wrap it around those unnecessary things. I’m totally exhausted by this ordeal. Sitting back in my Eames lounge chair, I ponder if this should even be necessary to overhaul my specially ordered slave. Since I would rather not be brash, I decide to call up my dear friend Vanilla Girl to see what she has to say about this. Vanilla, as per usual is shocked and very interested to see the sub par slave that has arrived in my living room.

By the time Vanilla arrives, I have already found many more problems with my slave. He is pudgy, so with Vanilla’s help, we start circling all the problem areas of fat. All the while I am complaining about this utterly disgusting thing and Vanilla is aghast and appalled by my latest mail order slave. She is usually much too nice in these matters, but I am ruthless, pointing out additional problems such as his apparent lack of programming when I ask him to get into slave positions. I throw my Sharpie® down in disgust. We pack this useless thing back into the box, but don’t seal it quite yet. It is time to call the FedEx guy . . .

A Little Piece of History

Respect.

Lady Laura's

I was a Teenage Dominatrix ~ Book Review

If there was a category in the high school yearbook, Most Likely to be a Dominatrix, I would have been it. I’m not sure exactly how I got this reputation, possibly because I liked giving orders and being a bitch, but one year my friend gave me this book, in hopes to start my career.

This memoir is wonderful, but actually has less to do with BDSM and more about the class struggle. It is a woman's journey getting out of the trailer park and becoming educated and worldly.

Shawna Kenney began when she was 19 and then retired in her early twenties. She started working as a stripper, doing outcall in hotel rooms, but found her niche in her “favorite role” being “in charge . . . the ruler, the queen, the BOSS.” The memoir does not cover her training as a pro-domme or protocol in sessions. The sessions she describes are activities like verbal humilation, foot fetish, cross-dressing and GS, but there is some impact play. She works for a private place where she is on call for either sessions in the space or out call, which may include other ladies. Because of this, she seems to talk mostly about the fairness and generosity of her lady boss then the other women she works with. One of my favorites is her menstrual fetish client who buys her used tampons. I love a girl who never throws anything away.

I don't think she was looking for empowerment, I think she was looking for a way to pay the bills. She wanted to pay her way through college; her parents weren't going to be able to assist her and they never went to college themselves. Her description of normalcy was illustrating her humble beginnings and how she continually defied her parents and society norms. I find particularly touching her thrill of backpacking through Europe and retiterates how unbelievable it is that girl like her could go on such a spectacular trip.

This is a hot debate in the BDSM world, if one is lifestyle or professional or both. Lifestyle meaning that one incorporates BDSM as a regular part of one's life; professional being one who plays for money. There are many lifestyle players who are also professional; there are many professionals who do not incorporate BDSM into their lives outside of work. I don't think either deserves our scorn or judgment. Also, every person will only play with what he or she wants to do. Just because you advertise as a professional domme, does not mean you are going to be capable or desirous of playing with every client who wants to play with you. This happened a couple of times in the book and Kenney had that client play with a domme who could give them the type of scene they wanted. This shows her integrity of satisfying a client and keeping her limits intact.

Kenney contends that LA is oversaturated in the domme market so when she moved here, retired. She tumbled into BDSM as a way to pay the bills; she enjoyed it, she was good at it and then felt it was time to hang up her paddle, but knows she can always return to it.

Many of my friends, in or out of the scene thoroughly enjoy this book. Kenney is a very intelligent, go-getter, balls to the wall kinda lady