Updated Blogroll

During this time away from Los Angeles, I have been trying to take some time for myself away from the fun and sexy distractions and catch up on some reading. Beyond my usual favorites of poetry and literature, I decided to take a look at my blogroll, which has undergone very little change since I first created it about a year ago. I have so many books piled up around my bed, sexy and otherwise and now I have a roll of sexy blogs to catch up on too! I'm happy to say I can call Jenny DeMilo, Mistress Erin, and Ryan St. Germain my friends.

Completely new to my list are: aag, Longing's End, Sugarbutch Chronicles, Coquitten and Walking Vixen.

I even included some naughty boys: dirty boy and Natt Nightly.

All the people on my list actively update their blogs with content that will make you wet and make you think, something I try to do with my blog.

Nine

I can't decide if this movie is great or cheesy, but I'm not here to give you a feminist or intellectual reading of this movie. I'm here to tell you about the reason I saw this movie, which is why you should see it, the women! Featuring some of the sexiest and most beautiful women of this generation, and if you like the older dames, it has those too. Every scene is full of great bones, eyes, lips and legs. The movie drips with legs almost as good as mine, covered in fishnets and thigh highs, ending with stiletto shoes and over the knee black leather boots.

Even if I were to review this movie seriously, I'm not sure what else I would say about it, other than to bring me back to those dozens of legs.

Interview with Fixe Magazine

Check out my interview here.

Smells like a Dungeon

I'm not much into perfumes. I never understood the appeal of Chanel No. 5; a woman's own personal scent is so much sexier. However, I have always loved the single note and somewhat odd colognes of Demeter Fragrance.

I couldn't help but notice that some of their fragrances had a bit of a BDSM feel to them, namely Leather, Riding Crop, Rubber, and Vinyl.

If I were to make a fragrance called Dungeon, it would have some of these elements: Leather, incense, sweat, pleasure, a scream, a little blood . . . my laughter. Would you wear it?

Wishlist

I have updated my wishlist for those inquiring about gifts this holiday. My birthday is coming up in the beginning of February as well. A girl can never have too many books or stockings! I'm still going through a pile of books that a dear gentleman gave me. If you could only have heard me squeal when I opened that box. I'm honored that I am still on danni's wishlist, the webslave of Pandemos. But am I on yours?

Something not on my wishlist is this ridiculous corset I found on Agent Provacateur. I normally love their refined taste and high quality products, but this looks like the BDSM version of the Victoria's Secret fantasy $3M diamond bra.

Yes, those are metal spikes. And studs. What the hell? I like leather and latex corsets, maybe even satin, all with good boning, but leave the Bedazzler out of it!

Season's Beatings in New York

New York travel dates confirmed: 12/24-1/2.

Even though I lived in New York for years, I never played there! Pity, I know. So you should take this opportunity to play with me now!

I expect to be pretty busy but I hope to make a few new friends while I'm in town.

Book of Revelation movie review

Three masked women drug a lead male dancer and have their way with him for a few weeks. When they finally dump his sorry ass, he whimpers like a little bitch.

Needless to say, I loved this mainstream Femdomme flick.

But what kills me about it, is that when this bloke goes back to his life, he can't explain what happened to him. His live-in dancer girlfriend thinks he went on some fling. He tries to tell the cops what happened: "A friend of mine was abducted by three women." They all start laughing, "Poor bastard."

The women wear these sexy custom black masks with optional mouth pieces with robes to disguise their identities. They keep him chained up. One woman deeply scratches him down his back, leaving four bloody trails. They make him piss himself. They make him masturbate; when he refuses, they put his ankle in his vise and threaten to break it. When he pisses them off, the leader comes to him in the middle of the night: "Sorry to wake you" and out comes the olive oil and a large purple dildo. They make him dance for them.

When asked why, one masked woman simply says, "Because you're beautiful."

I laugh hysterically.

Happy Spanksgiving!

This year, I am thankful for all my sexy friends and you! Some of you are also my sexy friends, fellow bloggers, or new people to have fun with--and I am thankful you read my blog!

It was a pretty mellow day for me, drinking fine wine and enjoying fine company. As per usual, I contributed to the feast with my excellent vegan desserts. This year I made pumpkin bread and apple pie that were quite well received. Amusing to me and my hosts was the fact I delivered said desserts in a Pleaser shoe box that once contained my over the knee buckled beauties.

We concluded the evening watching Blood Freak, a B-movie tradition for me about a man who eats tainted turkey which turned him into a, ahem, blood freak, or just a man wearing a paper mache turkey head. For the first time, I explored the other totally odd extras that included some noir skin flick shorts.

Hope you had a truly wonderful Spanksgiving! If you want to make it more wonderful, you will take advantage of my all weekend special.

Latex loves Me

Here's a sneak peek of an impromptu photo shoot with Tommy O.



We had planned to hang out, but not to shoot. We didn't stand a chance--I look amazing in latex, and he loves to shoot amazing ladies in latex. Just an hour before I was trolling the farmer's market, picking up organic winesap apples for my kickass pie. So if you were wondering what I looked like on my "off" day, it's pretty much what I look like everyday.

Latex Pool Pervert

I'm trying to take a nice relaxing dip in my latex gown, but a pervert is spying on me!

Precision

Just when I thought I was cool, Isabella Sinclaire proves me wrong with this commercial:



I think I will attempt this for my next feat. Maybe I should try a different kind of nut.

Fetish Nation

Had a lovely time at Fetish Nation the other night, a newish fetish club every other Saturday at Circus by the same people who put on Club Hell.

I wore my new naughty nurse outfit, black patent leather boots with red soles and gloves of course--all to much praise. It may have something to do with it's second skin fit and the fact that most of my legs were exposed. ;)

There was some foot contest for most attractive feet, but I somehow missed the sign-up otherwise I'm sure these tootsies would have won the prize! I had a wonderful foot massage regardless. I have been preloading foot massages when I go out these days--it's a good way to make it through the evening in fetish shoes. Besides, I can never get enough attention on my feet.

A fashion show by Venus Prototype features some rather foxy latex designs including some great printed pieces. Various play stations are scattered in the main area of the club, but I got my own private lube up from a Beautiful Lady.

What I find particularly amusing about this particular club is that Circus is so big, there's actually another club night going on at the same time with "normals." I find the interaction between the fetish and vanilla fascinating. Sometimes we wander through their side with the standard technodisco and strobe light, but lately I have been noticing more and more plaid shirts among the latex when it's time for the shows.

While walking around with a friend who works in the scene, a vanilla girl said, "Ohmygod! You look so hot!" With my friend wearing a fetching ensemble of fishnets, a black corset and ample breasts--I tended to agree.

Out of ear shot, my friend scoffed, "It's my job to look this hot."

Indeed.

Belle du Jour reveals herself: An escort with a brain.

A few months ago I read Belle du Jour and posted a review about it. I thought that it was a lot of fabrication, but enjoyed the memoir. Now Belle du Jour has revealed herself as Dr. Brooke Magnanti. I'm sure there will be a harried effort of fact checking with her coming forward, but now that she has, I no longer carry the weight of doubt I previously had regarding this memoir. This blog is not about that. This blog is in response to the many commenters who criticized her decision of going into sex work.

There was never so succinct a response to the age old question of: "Why did you choose to go into sex work?" as featured in $pread magazine: "It's the money, stupid."

By her own admission Dr. Magnanti decided to go into sex work because she ran out of money while working on her Ph.D. And what, we're surprised that academics are underpaid? This is not a problem isolated to British academics, by UCLA's own admission, they do not pay their graduate students enough to feasibly live in Los Angeles. When you cannot support yourself, you have three choices: you live off of savings, someone supports you or you get another job.

Yet everyone criticizes this obviously intelligent, educated woman's decision to get a job in the sex industry. Why? Is this really about a moral judgement? Belle is sleeping with someone else's husband or boyfriend and admonished for it, but she's simply providing the service, not purposely seeking out attached men. People are criticizing her for not finding a straight job, which she says she could not do because she was unable to find something in her field. She could not devote enough time to the low paying job she would have had to take in order to cover her expenses as she was working on her thesis. Are they saying we should keep highly educated and intelligent people in low-skilled jobs that they are not suited for, prolonging their process for finally being able to work in their chosen and dedicated field? Or she could have asked her parents for money, what if they didn't have it or didn't want to give it to her? She could have gotten loans, what if she didn't qualify for them? What if she didn't want to be in debt? Nice, middle-class white girls can't be prostitutes during a brief time of need? Aren't you the classist, racist, genderist and asshole. (Apologies to my English professors for lack of parallelism.)

For those who would like to eradicate sex work because it is so-called demeaning, psychologically damaging, and morally debased, allow me to offer the following suggestions:

*create a mandatory living wage for every person 18 or older who is able bodied to work
*create viable retirement options for people no longer able to work
*create adequate disability benefits
*create reliable and excellent child care options
*stop undervaluing education and pro-social jobs
*create a top limit for all salaries
*create true gender equality
*crack down on sex and human trafficking

I'm going to pause for a moment to just entertain what it would be like if these things came true . . . They never will, so that moment was very short-lived. So long as these condition exist in our modern world, so will sex workers. It is called the world's oldest profession because it is-it embodies the first basic trade of commodities. I have--you want. I need--you have. Today, we still have those needs and wants.

But it does not even matter if we could create a Utopian society where these suggestions were realities because people are still going to choose to go into sex work for a variety of other reasons that have nothing to do with a better society. However, it would greatly reduce the amount of people who are sex slaves which seems more demeaning, psychologically damaging, morally debased,(and always illegal) more so than one woman's choice to be a high end escort for a year while working toward a Ph.D. in her field.

Please separate out forced and coerced sex work from those who make a conscious choice; there is a difference. Let's work to stop sex slavery and leave the intelligent, educated sex workers who love and blog about their jobs the hell alone.

Spanksgiving Special!

Tis the season to be thankful that Ms. Justine offers such kick ass specials to the needy--needing to be beat, that is.

I will be offering my popular Saturday Recession Session special all weekend. Offer good November 27 - 29. (Friday through Sunday; it cannot be combined with any other specials.)

Come see Me. You will be thankful.

Don Corbitt is amazing.

New Orleans

Normally, I forbid my submissives to address me as "ma'am" but since I was in the South, I felt it would be a cultural castration of sorts. Nothing tickled me more when I asked a Southern gentleman a question and he politely stopped sucking my cock to say, No, ma'am, with earnest.

I was quite delighted with the warm welcome I received from New Orleans. I had several private sessions as well as a few with Mistress Erin. We certainly got our use out of her toy box and sissy wardrobe, transforming many men into our eager little sluts. One was quite eager to be my little maid and did a good job of tidying up the dungeon.

When we weren't sessioning, we were out having plenty of fun in the quarter as I explored Miss Erin's favorite haunts. During these ramblings, I was introduced to Ryan St. Germain and Mona Duvera, both lovely people I am certain to see again. It never ceases to amaze me how many wonderful (and totally hot) people I meet through this small kinky world.

I also managed to work in a photo shoot with Don Corbitt. I've known and admired his work for years and it was a pleasure to be able to work with him. I was excited to wear some of his custom fetish creations. I expect to have these photos after Halloween as he is up to his eyeballs with costume orders. He measured me for future creations--I'm planning on going to the Torture Garden party in May and would like to have some new outfits specifically for it.

Among other things, I toured Tulane, went to the clothing optional Country Club, walked about Jackson Square, ate beignets at Cafe du Monde, watched a midnight showing of Goonies--all and all a totally wonderful vacation.

Mistress Erin and Ryan are putting together a fetish night before Halloween, but unfortunately I do not think I will be able to come down. However, seeing old friends, Erin and Don, made me so happy, I'm sure it won't be too long before I traipse over to the Big Easy again.

Lifestyle vs. Professional

I am a lifestyle and professional dominatrix. What does this mean?

Lifestyle means that I enjoy many aspects of FemDom in my every day life because as I recently explained to a friend, Is there any other way?

A professional is one, who simply, like any other professional, e.g. a lawyer, gets paid for her time. You can find them via Eros, Pandemos and Maxfisch.

Sometimes people, okay, male submissives seem to be confused about the differences. Sometimes it's on purpose, sometimes it's accidental. As a lifestyle player, I do have people I play with personally, but I assure you, that I am the one picking them. I have never and will never personally play with someone who contacts me if I do not know that person and does not come with at least one good solid reference. If you are looking for a play partner, then please look at sites such as Collarme, Alt, and even FetLife. (Note: I personally use all these sites for both professional and lifestyle needs of a female dominant.)

I have met many who consider themselves lifestyle and professional. I have met those who are only lifestyle. I have met those who are only professional. I think it's important to distinguish the differences, but not necessary to discriminate against those who wish to tailor their involvement in the way that they see fit.

Caribbean Fetish Fest in Jamaica

It could have been the haircut. It might have been the latex. It probably had something to do with my sassiness. But somehow all these magical elements combined and I was off to Caribbean Fetish Fest in Jamaica for a week with a group of like-minded, kinky individuals--BDSM performers showcasing at Hedonism II for a week.

Most of the crew was from LA with a couple of additions from New York, Master Vito and his submissive; and aerialists/firespinners from Reno whom I promptly renamed the Reno sprites since they left a trail of glitter and delight in their wake. Tommy O. was there to attempt to photograph our deviant, hellacious entities.

We caught the tale end of another event, the Penthouse Key Girls. The one that took the cake was a lady we affectionately called "Candlewax Girl." Her performance included several lit candles and a sheet. I knew where this was going, but the audience seemed perplexed. She invited a couple of them up to the stage. She gave them candles, flipped herself over and instructed them to pour the white hot wax into her girly bits. I was delighted. She then dripped it across her magnificent breasts. Finally, she ended with her legs stradled over her torso like a contortionist and dripping hot wax into her ass. At that precise moment, I realized, life couldn't get any better than this.

But of course it did when our crew took over! We had some hot suspension from Master Vito, angle grinding sparks from Snow and Noir Halo, and oh just about everything else we were allowed to get away with on this island. The performances were really playful but steamy, it was a pleasure to be seated and comfortable while perving. I enjoyed seeing performances out of context where I could really concentrate and watch as opposed to being in a club where I'm distracted.

We did the resort stuff like laying about nude on the beach drinking fruity frozen concoctions. We went to Rick's Cafe, the infamous bar at the edge of the island where people dive off the cliffs. A couple of people from our group dove off the cliff; one Reno sprite managed to do flips that earned local praise. I went kayaking and sailing. Most of our time was spent saying, Damn, we are so awesome.

And we are.

PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE

I attended a fetish party last Saturday called PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE.
It was my first time there (it was on a hiatus for several months) and it's open to couples over 30 with a guest list maximum of 50. Luckily, I had a tgirl to call my date. She is quickly becoming my favorite latex clad thing to cling to and perve on--playing with her has also been a delight!

Earlier in the day I had played with one of my favorite clients, a serious pain slut. He is one of the few I use my heavy knotted cane with--at the end of the session we are both trembling. I might have been too hard on my hand though because it felt rather useless and I restricted myself to more sensual play and perving on all the other lovelies in attendance. It's been awhile since I have been to a private play party and it was such a pleasure seeing people truly engage in BDSM for the fun and not for the show which sometimes happens at clubs. Full nudity is also better suited to play and I find the mandatory duct tape on nipples policy ridiculous and another useless remnant of puritannical society in modern day "liberal" America.

There were a lot of sexy, kinky scenes going on that I won't go into detail about for obvious reasons, but I will say that everyone appeared to be having a great time; and also, very important, was playing safe. Am I turned on when I see a single tail crack a slave's back? Yes, but I'm also touched when I see the Mistress end the scene with band-aids. Hehe.

Hot for me was accidentally wondering into an involved scene and being quickly pulled into the heart of it . . .

But aside from play, I had a wonderful time, looking fierce in latex with my thigh high boots and chatting with guests. Tommy O was kind enough to set up a photo area and captured this picture, which he called "the money shot." Indeed.

Unfortunately I will be in New Orleans for the next event, which is being held on the first Saturday of every month, but I will definitely love to go the next time it runs and I am in town.

Kink vs. Vanilla: what's normal anyway?

I've been making an effort of late to seek out and interact with people outside of the BDSM community. Although, I have been having a lot of fun at various kink and kink-related events, I thought it would be good to be in situations where I am not known as Ms. Justine, because suddenly I panicked and thought, Oh no. What if I have gone too far down this latex-lined rabbit hole?

So off I went to find "vanilla" people and things to do. Where do I find them? Where do they lurk? Friendster? Like most people in LA, I am almost famous and like to talk about myself. So purposely being in a situations where I vowed not to talk about my work or alter-ego, I found myself . . . strangely quiet. And in the end, the vanilla person figured out what I do anyway or I started talking about it at this vanilla event. Mostly because I couldn't answer the question: So, what did you do last weekend? Suddenly I would see flashes of latex, fake eyelashes, entire hands shoved up orifices, certain liberties being taken with someone's bum, thick black leather collars, my hand on a throat, the purple hum and snap of a violet wand--and I would say, Um. You know. The usual.

And then I realized something, partially prompted by the following: a Mistress had written about herself that she was the alter ego of some other girl, but now the two are one person. On Twitter, someone commented about her annoyance that people make up Facebook accounts with their fake "identity" [using a professional or play name.] I responded, This IS my real identity. This just isn't my real name. :)

I am a kinky intellectual. I love tying people up, slapping them silly, making them bleed, making them cry. And I love books, museums, NPR, poetry. I am one who fully relishes in all of the above!

I had been thinking about this a lot because the very first conversation you have with a "kinky" person is about what you are into--and I was thinking maybe I should have a conversation that does not include me excitedly remarking on the awesomeness of my knotted cane and feeldoe, because maybe that was not "normal." Then I came across this column from Mistress Matisse which I think does a good job of summing up vanilla intimacy. She too went out at one point in the "vanilla" world on a personal mission. I realized I couldn't go back to a place that didn't involve kink, but nor could I have a life that doesn't involve intellectualism.

I don't know what's "normal." I just know how to have a good time.

GwenMedia Prom

I went to the GwenMedia Prom last week that served as the farewell party for Isabella Sinclaire. I must say this was much better than any prom I ever went to. Not only was my date extremely foxy, but I actually knew (and liked!) the people at this prom. It was a pleasure meeting new people as well as continuing to get to know some lovely people I have been introduced to of late. The decorations were fun and festive, I love hot pink! Music was enjoyable--you can't go wrong with 80's pop rock. Comparing it to other proms, there is no comparison. I'm very glad I went. Although, since it was not a play party, I did practice restraint, knowing what wonderful implements were in the wings!

Are you a cop?

As a follow-up to an incident that occurred in my previous post, I cannot believe this rumor is still widely circulated, but I still hear it. What's worse is it's from educated and intelligent women working in the sex industry.

I do not intend to make my blog a PSA for sex workers, there are many better providers of information (I've listed some in my links section) but I have heard this recently and it came up in Callgirl, from a "highly educated" woman, believing, as her madam apparently did, that if you ask someone if he's a cop, he has to say yes.

Think about it. A cop goes undercover for months, infiltrating a powerful Russian mob network, one day over vodka, Vladimir looks at his new friend "Boris" and says, "Hey, wait a minute . . . Boris, are you a cop?"

Does Boris, look down at his shoes, stick his thumbs in is waistband and go, "Aw shucks, Vlady! You got me! Jig is up. I guess I'll go back to the precinct now. No foolin' you!"

Then Vlady goes, "Aw, hell Boris! You know fool me once, shame on - shame on you. Fool me - you can't get fooled again."

Trust your instincts. Screen your clients. If you think something's amiss, whether because you think your client is a cop or dangerous, turn tail and walk away.

Getting busted is a risk to be avoided, but unfortunately sex workers have other risks to consider. The sad truth is female sex workers are more likely to be victims of sexual and physical assualts, and even as recent crimes suggest, the victims of serial killers.

Read the Snopes article and watch a clip from one of my favorite shows, Law & Order.

On a lighter note, strippers as cops is passe. Personally, I like my cops in latex. There is certainly a "cop fetish" in the scene. Once, while leaving a club, my friend Spanks, asked, "Is that a real cop or a fetish cop"?

Callgirl ~ Book Review

At this point, I've written reviews of a fair amount of sex worker memoirs. I picked this one in particular because Jeanette Angell, was highly educated and oncemore a professor. Having lofty academic and publishing goals myself, I like to console myself, "See? Someone else is doing this, you can too." (Except, there seems to have been a discrepancy about the validity of this story along with her so-called degrees.) Although, now that I think about it, I have yet to read a memoir from someone who wasn't college educated.

Jen's "rat bastard" boyfriend clears out her banking account and with her teaching position as a lecturer, barely scrapes by so she decides to work for an agency in the Boston area during the mid-1990s. She moved to the US from France at 21 and begins escorting later than most, her mid-thirties, but she apparently looks younger. She never lets us forget that she is intelligent and educated. But I'm not really sure I see it.

And it's not because as others suggested, that going into sex work is a stupid, ill thought out decision, but because for someone who prides herself on being so intelligent and educated, she never demonstrates it in her line of work; either at her day job or night job. It's not that she became addicted to drugs that were always around her; she was a high functioning addict who still managed to teach her classes and even develop new ones, one on the history of prostitution--which is relatively unheard of for an adjunct. It's not that she continually makes bad choices in men that leave her devastated. But it's that she has a certain naivete that never lessens in her journey which does contribute to her addictions and bad choices.

What struck me as indicators for evidence contrary to her professed intelligence and education was lack of safety protocol, lack of knowledge of laws and her lack of interest to make money.

As with any story, there is plenty left out, but what concerned me is the lack of safety protocol, trusting a woman she never met to send her out to hotels and homes. She never mentions the internet in this memoir, so I am unsure if message boards existed then or if she just did not know about them. When Jen starts meeting other women from other agencies, she is horrified at the stories she is, not acknowledging her own terrible stories through her current agency. I was flabbergasted that she believed the same woman, Peach, that if you ask a client if he's a cop, he has to tell you.

It's hard to calculate what the going rate in Boston in the mid-1990s was for doing outcall, especially with inflation, but even still, it seemed low for a rate of $200/hour total. And Peach always told her, "the 80's are over, no one tips anymore." But there seemed to be an endless supply of coke. Usually, a serious working girl knows, her time in this industry is short so you have to figure out the way to make the most money as possible. She never mentions thinking about ways to make more money, other than to sometimes get the client to extend the session.

But what saddened me is that she by and large seemed drifting and lonely for most of this period in her life. She told no one about her line of work, except her friend Seth. They were never lovers and he seemed okay with her new line of work; they enjoyed many conversations and fine dinners together, until one night he lays out cash and asks her for a blow job. Reading this, my heart wrenched for her, that the one person she decided to confide in, betrayed her, and it wasn't just in that moment that he betrayed her, he had been betraying her all along.

Later, she falls for a client. The old adage is true, Never date a client. Is it her fault she fell for him? Absolutely not. He was attractive, charming, educated and intelligent. It was her fault for dating him, which might not have happened if she didn't think that she needed to starve herself of non-professional sex and relationships, because no man would accept her job or she would always have to lie. She knew she was beautiful, smart and sexy, so of course she believed him when he told her these things, but unfortunately, it was only a cruel game for him to get a "hooker for free." Also odd is that while she considers sexuality fluid and could be given the mainstream label of bisexual--she never mentions pursuing a relationship with a woman; she ends up marrying a man.

Tragically, she tells about an encounter with a client, so violent and not consensual, it could only be classified as rape, but she considers it a bad night out. Jen talks to another girl about the client who raped her and this girl, a regular of his, says that she believes she's doing the world a service because the client will pay her to do vile sexual acts with her and not rape a woman on the street. I was dumbstruck. They never mentioned that this was a person who hated women, they he was in fact raping them; they never suggested he should be black-balled and forewarn the community. Interestingly, when another working girl reveals she was gang raped through a different agency, Jen considers what happened to the other girl a rape; Jen actually says she is thankful to be at the agency she is with.

She ends with an afterward regarding sex slavery and trafficking. I agree with her that prostitution should be legal, but I do not think it would have the effect she thinks of regulating and thus ending the human trade. Unfortunately, sex trafficking happens because the most vulnerable, woman and children, can be easily coerced or taken away from families and their homes and forced into this work. It happens because parts of the world are poverty stricken, uneducated, and women and children are treated like property or possessions to be sold or traded. It happens because sex work yields a high profit for a low cost of operations. But mostly, it happens because we let it happen.

Intimidation

A few years ago, when I was in college, I was very intimidated by a woman named K.

K. was beautiful, smart and rich. She was scary as hell. Everyone in the department was scared of her, even some of the professors.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly what made her so intimidating. It wasn't that she was attractive, she was not a model or someone you would stop and stare at on the street. She was pretty smart, but she actually did not seem to be incredibly intelligent, she just studied her ass off. She did not flaunt her wealth, but it was clear she had a lot of money.

What made K. intimidating was that she was incredibly tenacious. She did not have to work outside of school. She did not have a family to take care of, all she did was study and work on her projects. K. dominated all her classes, and was a TA for several. Everyone knew who she was based on her aggressive nature. K. intimidated people by having an attitude that she was better than other people and because she worked hard, she did do very well, but she was not necessarily the brightest and best of the department.

But then I realized something and I was no longer intimidated by her. We were in the same freakin' place.

We were in the same department, we were getting A's in the same classes, we were TA's for the same classes. And oncemore, I was working toward a degree in another major from the one we had in common.

I bring this up because I have been confronted by a few people, both in and out of the scene, who have this same intimidating attitude. I just don't get it. We're in the same place. I'm on the same guest list as you. I'm in the same room at the private party as you.

I'm not intimidated by you. I just think you are a tool and look foolish.

So please don't try to out latex me or out intellectualize me. Chances are you may be more fetish than me or even smarter than me, but maybe you are not. And considering we are in the same place, that must mean we have similiar interests and have similar friends--we probably have something in common.

So let's have a conversation. I really look forward to it.

Mistresses who do and don't?

A recent blog post from a Mistress who has decided to stop offering her services as a pro-Domme based on her estimation that pro-Domme experiences have become full-service and sexual, has made me aware of an apparent debate of Mistresses who do or don't.

And, in the words of Lewis Black, I keep thinking, did I miss a day in school somewhere?

I have never done anything with my clients outside of strict BDSM. I am always fully clothed. Oncemore, all the pro-Dommes I personally know in or outside of LA operate the same way.

Are there really so many pro-Dommes out there who are having sex with their clients? I posted the question on twitter and got one response, from a sub, who said he heard that some gave handjobs.

I've known of escorts who may dom or sub at their discretion, but on the whole, they are looking for another connection with a client, usually to have sex, not to have a full-on BDSM session.

I remember being in a commercial dungeon and being annoyed, along with my other "independent contractors" when clients came in clearly wanting more than BDSM--sometimes only wanting more than BDSM. We didn't care so much that they wanted it, we just weren't going to give it to them; we wanted to refer them to other sex workers who would give them what they wanted and leave us alone. I've long wanted to make a quiz for clueless people, called "This is the Sex Worker for You!" Here is a sample question:

Do you want your balls . . .

a. smashed
b. banging against pussy
c. grinded through your pants with pasties in your face.
d. to be touched by yourself as you talk to someone endlessly on the internet about what you would do if you were both there in the same room naked as opposed to being in different time zones with your respective spouses upstairs asleep.

If you answered mostly A's, you want a Domme. If you answered mostly B's, you want an escort. If you answered mostly C's you want a stripper. If you answered mostly D's, you want an emotional affair which although isn't a sex worker, yes, it's still cheating, and yes, you are an asshole, because this means you can't actualize what you would like to do with the person you are in a relationship with nor can you find a live person to do it with, get a life, seek help and stop using the internet.

This test is by no means conclusive, but I had no idea another answer choice was needed, i.e. if you answered A's and B's, you want a Dommescort.

Searching the internet for answers, I found the noted interview
with Mistress Y from Smith magazine where she says, "No. I don’t have conventional sex with my clients."

But it's from 2007, so maybe something has changed. I found a post from a Mistress just this month on a marketing site where she says "At no time does a mistress have sex with a client."

Dare I quote FOXSexpert: To Be a Dominatrix, where Yvonne Fullbright contends, "but the fact that they are able to avoid intercourse is the main reason your “average” women in need of cash are going this route."

Here's another domme from New York City who in her interview also says, "For the client, being dominated is 100% about sensuality but it is not about sex. There is no sex and no nudity inside a dungeon."

A thread on Yahoo answers where this is a resounding "no" to the question if Mistresses have sex with their clients

Then, there's the interview with Mistress Georgia to consider: "In California being a dominatrix is legal because there is never any sex (at all) involved in being a dominatrix."

Here's an interview from a Mistress from London who said, "There was never any sex involved in the ‘sessions’.

I am very pro-prostitution.* I think it should be legalized and even if it never is, I still think it is valid and needed work. I have friends who are escorts and would never judge someone for doing this type of sex work, it is just not for me. Why? Because I'm a fucking dominatrix!

In $pread magazine, there is a column for the weirdest request from a client. What strikes me as odd about these requests, is many of them aren't that odd, they just seemed to be misdirected to the incorrect type of sex worker. The example that comes to mind is the guy who asked a stripper to kick him in the balls. Certainly not at all odd for me, working or not, but this was weird as hell for her. Why? Because she was a fucking stripper.

So, tell me. Are you fucking your clients? Because I'm fucking not.



*I think it's important to clarify that I believe there to be three main categories of prostitution. I endorse people who make 1) an uncoerced choice to enter into prostitution. I do NOT mean 2) forced sexual slavery or 3) people who think they have no choice but to enter sex work for various economical, social, and political reasons beyond their control.

FemDomme and Foot Fetish: The Early Years

For some reason, lately, I've been thinking back to early encounters of the kinky kind. I'm always getting asked about how I began, and you can find a few answers here or there, but really, when I think back, I remember this is always how things were--dominance came naturally to me.

I recall spending time with a group of new friends in college. We were at a grocery store and one of the boys mentioned how good he was a foot massages. In fact, he loved to give them! Well, I instructed him right then and there to prove it. He artfully unbuckled my sandal (I am still, after many years impressed with this) and took my tender, well-pedicured foot in hand.

He was good. He was very good. He was so good I could barely keep composure as he massaged my foot in the middle of the grocery store. I think I leaned heavily against his broad shoulders, but eventually made him kneel so I could sit on his leg and most properly enjoy the foot massage he was giving me.

We all find each other. He had consciously or perhaps unconsciously been admiring my pretty feet and strong will, and as soon as I realized his proclivities, I seized the opportunity.

Now, I'm not saying that I love to dominate and order around all men, but if I can't, I'm just not sure what to do with you.

Latex pool pervert

I refuse to let summer go. Here's a sneak peek at my new photo set with Jim Groves. We had a lot of fun in the pool, as I modeled my black latex gown, he took photos of me from above and below. We agreed it was by far the best thing we've done in the pool this summer.

What have you done in the pool this summer?

Double Trouble in New Orleans

Finally, I have booked a flight to see my favorite red-headed Beautiful Lady of the South, Mistress Erin. I will be there from 9/30-10/7.

I wanted to post a photo of us together, but all our photos are um, too spicy for the 'net. Although I plan on getting in a couple of decent photoshoots while I'm there, I think the decadence will inspire me.

I quiver in delight to see what sort of trouble we will get into together in NOLA.

Perhaps you would like to join us?


I'm also looking forward to seeing Don, an old friend from home. He's an amazing photographer but also designs amazing couture fetish clothing. I know we will at least shoot together, but it's high time I get my paws on some of his exquisite creations.

Belle du Jour ~ Book Review

Creating a persona as a literary device is nothing new. Lorenzo Carcaterra, author of Sleepers, claims his story of horribly abused children in a New York State Correctional facility is true, while the correctional authorities and the Manhattan District Attorney deny this story. Notably erotic novel Story of O's author was clouded in mystery, first believed to be a man, then recognized as a woman, eventually claiming she wrote the book as a series of love letters to her lover; yet her non de plume was itself, a non de plume. Most recently, the scandalized account of Girl Boy Girl, how I became JT Leroy, when it was revealed that the gay-male-ex-truck-stop-prostitute-turned literary-wunderkind was really the actual author's sister-in-law.

My point is, that it hardly matters from a literary standpoint; these are great stories. Some of them are great writers. However, most likely, we would have never paid attention to them if we had not been beguiled to believing them to be TRUE stories by the people who lived them.

That being said, Belle du Jour is a helluva book. It's also, as David Cross's voice echoes in my ears, 100% total bullshit.

In Belle du Jour's case, I'm going to consider this the Nancy Drew Syndrome. Many of my readers are male, so let me familiarize you with the detective. Nancy Drew is an independent young woman who gets into all kinds of crazy trouble investigating potentially dangerous dancing puppets and hidden staircases. Her circle includes a doting, rich father, no mother to bother her, a loving boyfriend and two gal pals, one of which is tom boyish Georgia "George" Fayne and super girlish Bess Marvin; read dyke and lipstick femme. What a wonderful life! Also 100% bullshit--obviously, as fiction--but appealing to teems of young girls for whom Nancy Drew has everything--also, a doting housekeeper. The whole thing is just too good to be true, Nancy and Belle just have way too many cool adventures with a doting entourage. My claim of 100% bullshit is based on two basic principles: 1) there isn't enough time to do all the things claimed to have been done and 2) there are too many fantastic things going on to have all actually happened.

First, there does not appear to be enough time for all events to occur. Every time she mentions a lover, it's something along the lines of: I dated him several years ago for several years. How old is this brood? Not to mention all the amazing sexual encounters she had before becoming a sex worker. The fact that she posts daily, because everything is supposed to be happening in real time, makes it easy to overlook the obvious time problems, but they still exist.

Second, it does not seem plausible that so many fantastic things occur. I believe its possible to have a group of close male friends. I believe its possible to remain friends with old lovers. I believe its possible to have a steady boyfriend who is okay with his girlfriend's sex work. I believe its possible to love anal sex. I believe its possible for an escort to also domme. I believe its possible for a grown ass woman to call her father "Daddy." I believe its possible to have an encounter with another sex worker in the bathroom of a pub where she pours her heart out to you, a stranger, about her "notorious" attack SEVERAL YEARS AGO. I just don't believe its possible nor bloody likely for all these things to co-exist in one body, that of Belle du Jour.

However, going beyond the Nancy Drew Syndrome, I believe she (or he) used new media to get into classic print. I contend that this entire blog was pre-written and posted daily with the hopes of eventually getting it published as a book. The writing itself is very good, beyond standard sex worker memoir or even blogger writing. It is professionally done, it is amazingly done. And it was definitely pre-written--pre-meditated even.

Don't get me wrong, I think there are many intelligent, highly educated sex workers out there loving their jobs and having amazing sex on and off the job, Belle du Jour just isn't one of them. Enjoy the fictional memoir--I did. It was sexy--particularly appealing to me were her kinky encounters were she subs. It was funny--when a client asked her how to make her cum, she told him it would take six goats, an old press and the proper alignment of the stars. It was smart--it just isn't true.

And if I'm wrong, if Belle du Jour actually exists and is so wonderful as she so claims, then, at least she should be capable of defrosting her freezer.

Obey

Most of my time is spent disciplining bad boys, but sometimes a naughty school girl deserves my attention as well.

The lil miss's offences are the following:

1. Kissing bad boys
2. Not doing her homework
3. Disobeying Ms. Justine

I give her heavy books to balance on her hands, leaving her standing until her arms quiver--I pull her hair and tell her to stand up straight.



I take off her precious leather belt with heart buckle because I have a much better idea of how to use it.



Excuse me, while I give her the proper licking she deserves.




She will learn to obey.

Double Take in $pread

Corset or jeans, I look fiercely beautiful in both! Check me out in print: the Summer 2009 issue of $pread's feature, Double Take. I answer a few questions about my style in the dungeon and on the street. Photos are by the lovely Jenny DeMilo.

$pread is a much needed magazine "illuminating the sex industry." Also, in this issue are interviews with alt-porn performers, articles on D.C. activists fighting prostitution-free zones, stripper tarot and reviews on strap-ons. Informative, sexy and awesome--go get a copy now.

Fresh

You lie beneath me, eagerly gazing up my long uncovered legs, under my short black leather skirt to a dark corner between my legs. You see flashes of flesh and black lace as I walk over you. On the floor, you remain helpless, only able to explore with your eyes, as I have fully and thoroughly restrained you. Limbs are safely tucked in by your sides, you wouldn't dare move anyway after my explicit instructions with the rather explicit consequences of disobeying them.

I crouch over you, begin to bend my knees over your head, you smell my legs, my lavender lotion, the fine leather of my skirt, closer you begin to smell me, as I firmly plant myself on your face, knees on either side of your head. Your senses heighten in a frenzy, suffocating on mouthfuls of lace and scent. After a minute or so I rise, allowing you to breath fresh air, but we both know you would much rather struggle to breath against me. I sit on your face over and over again, seeing how long you can endure my weight on your face.

Finally, I decide to move away from you. I position myself behind you, so you can't see me or even touch me, but just so that you can hear me. I think about many things while I have my hand down my skirt, pressed against where your nose just was; I think about the exquisite training of potential slaves, their eager eyes; the gasps of hurtful canings, the moaning of pleasurable spankings, the way I pulled her hair, the way that she pulled mine, all these memories and desires coinciding with my own gasps and moans, ending with a very wet pair of panties indeed.

Should you desire a chance at these panties, I suggest you visit this site for the used panty raffle; proceeds to be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation


***Update! Over $2,000 was raised for breast cancer research. I will be sending my black lace panties abroad to the lucky winner.

Do you wanna be my girl?

I start by stripping you bare, you become new before me. I discard your pants, shirt, shoes; I take off your watch, your glasses and put them all away. They are no longer needed.

I begin with picking out the appropriate lingerie. Shall you be my innocent maiden or my slutty girl of the night? I decide on the latter, and pick out black lace panties and bra. You step into the panties, I slowly pull them up past your thighs, up to your hips, comfortably tucking everything away. I bring the bra in front of you, and you slide your arms into it, I fasten you up in back. We're both quite aroused at the sight of you in your sexy black lace lingerie. I take a moment to cop a feel, feeling up your breasts, pinching your nipples--you moan and gasp in delight.

Moving on, I bring over a black satin garter, clip it around your hips. I choose sheer black stockings with a seam running up the back. I gather the stocking in my hands and inform you to stick one delicate foot into the pile of sheer and slowly stretch the stocking up your leg, carefully adjusting to make sure the seam is straight and clip it to your garter. I repeat with your other leg. Now both legs are beautifully encased in sheer black stockings. I softly run my nails up your legs, squeezing the inside of your thighs.

I take the black corset and wrap it around your waist, fastening the silver hooks in front. I firmly grasp the ties at your back and pull tight, working from top to bottom, pulling, adjusting, cinching your feminine waist tighter and tighter. The corset pushes your breasts upward and makes your ass stick out ever so slightly, so I smack it. I pull up your panties into your ass and smack again, turning your delicious little fanny into a girlish shade of pink.

To finish dressing you, I decide on a very short black leather skirt. I can still see the tops of your thigh highs and garter, but as my slutty girl it's ever so appropriate. I complete your outfit with tall shiny black boots. Your transformation is complete.

I ask you to walk toward me, with your best seductive gait, slowly swinging your hips, teetering ever so slightly in your new high heels, I pull you close by sliding my finger between your breasts into your bra and whisper, Do you wanna be my girl?

Two Knotty Boys Show You the Ropes ~ Book Review

This book is nicely laid out with large color photos. It breaks down the bondage into five sections: the knots, basic, decorative, dominance and sex bondage. In other words, something for everyone. If you are like me, you utilize all sections within a single enjoyable evening.

This is a pretty sexy book about rope, but I found some of the pictures seemingly straightforward, but were rather complicated in action. I don't think this is necessary fault of the Knotty Boys, I just think it is very difficult to show someone with text and photographs how to tie bondage. They show a few impressive knots and systems that look great upon which you can expand. However, it does not, for example, go into how to safely rig someone for suspension.

Someone actually made me a rather thoughtful binder of all knots, not just kinky ones, but functional ones. I can still use them for sinister purposes. Eco-savy BDSM tip: befriend rock climbers and ask for their retired rope. Take out the core and you will have tons of great bondage rope that will impress Midori.

Like Mae West said, a girl who knows the ropes is less likely to be tied up.

June Gloom in Review

Where did this month go?

I've been very busy hence my lack of posting. I've been doing a lot of reading, exploring and kinky reorganization. A few of my favorite snap shots of the last few weeks:

--hot, hot, hot photo shoot with Jenny Demilo where I discipline a naughty school girl (to be posted soon! a few sneak peeks can be found on Facebook and Myspace.)

--beat the hell out of a Marine; lots of intense CBT with weights and spiky things. Consider it my contribution to the war effort.

--teasing and denying a sub at my feet for hours; smacking him for indolence, rewarding him for obedience.

--deep psychological torture of an all too willing participant; don't play mind games with me darling, you'll be up way past your bedtime.


I'm feeling very athletic these days and seek to work out some frustrations.

Perhaps you could be of some service?

Ms. Justine goes to Miss California

I confess that I went to the pageant fully expecting to hate it. Even on my way to the event my friend said, "Now you be nice to those girls!"

In spite of myself, I actually had a good time. The last time I had seen a pageant must have been when I was a child and wasn't really sure what to expect. I had a running commentary on Twitter throughout the pageant. However, what I most definitely did not expect was how dressed up everyone else was in the audience. I felt too casual among cocktail dresses and strappy heels with my, it must be confessed, dungarees. I didn't think that for many attendees, that this would be a big event for them too, something that perhaps they wished to participate in someday.

I thoroughly enjoyed the talent competition forgetting how much I loved opera and ballet. I continued to enjoy the so-called physical fitness competition. Slightly horrified and dismayed with evening wear and I realized, this was awesome! I got to see very talented, sexy women in many different outfits in a matter of hours! Then came the Q&A and I was incredibly disappointed. The questions were great: how do you see the role of women changing? How has the recession effected you? The answers? Pure drivel. But they are tough questions that could occupy the space of a thesis and I too would be hard-pressed to give an excellent answer in a few minutes.

Several questions plagued me during this event. Why is this an event only for women? I can't imagine men competing this way and I realize it's because they don't have to. Should we continue to objectify ourselves for the sake of scholarship money? Should we perpetuate the ideal that women should be talented, sexy and smart? What is the fetish equivalent?

At the end of the night, I told my date I sure had a swell time. He responded a little too quickly, I can get us tickets for Miss America in Las Vegas!

Sex Collectors: The Secret World of Consumers, Connoisseurs, Curators, Creators, Dealers, Bibliographers, and Accumulators of "Erotica" ~ Book Review

I picked up this book because the cover reminded me of Méret Oppenheim's Object, the infamous fur lined tea cup.

The subject matter was fascinating, save the private collections of toys amassed by myself and similar kinky individuals, I had not given much thought to serious collectors of erotica. It was an amusing read, though a bit rambled and disorganized. Geoff Nicholson concentrates on only a handful of collectors and dedicates about a chapter to each. He almost always notes that this is an expensive hobby and most of the collectors are of a certain age. Perhaps because this, its never quite revealed about the personal sexual preferences of the collectors, but I think its a given one cannot be so taken with collecting erotica, if one wasn't specifically interested in the actual subject matter.

He visits the Kinsey Museum, possibly the most interesting thing to do in Indiana, which reminds me I should really read the Kinsey Report too and see the movie. Kinsey collected everything he possibly could about sex in addition to his extensive interviews. Nicholson touches on one such interview of a man who has countless sexual encounters with all beings of all ages, which was truly sickening and sad, but how Kinsey as a scientist could not turn him over to the authorities because he was merely recording (or collecting) his experiences. It pointed out a good deal of vintage erotica books that I would like to read.

This was a pretty amusing, quick read.

My First Professional Sex

Check out my interview on My First Professional Sex about my decision to go into sex work. This is a fairly new site about all kinds of sex workers and their introduction to this line of work.

Enjoy!

Indecent: How I Make it and Fake it as a Girl for Hire ~ Book Review

I knew we were not going to get along the moment I read "Hemingway still sucks" in her acknowledgments.

It begins with her adolescent realization that working minimum wage jobs suck and that she could still be a feminist and be a sex worker. So she wanders into a sexy place and fills out an application. I found it really amazing that she never even knew what she was applying for. I could understand that she being a punky feminist living in grunge Seattle had never shaved or owned anything overtly sexy like thongs, but her acting surprised that she would have to do these things if she wanted to work in this sexy place--what would she be doing--was amazing. I thought the language was a bit overwrought and chatty, much like the bowels of livejournal tends to be.

I read a bunch of reviews on Amazon and found them all suspect and like they were clapping for someone in the special Olympics. Why do you think she is intelligent? Is it because she was capable of post-modern thought while simultaneously being a sex worker? I wouldn't really classify her as intelligent, but wouldn't go so far as to say she was stupid either. However, saying her writing about sex work is interesting is about as obvious as global warming. Duh. It's about SEX. Of course it's interesting. Could someone ever write about sex work and be boring? Let's stop clapping. Thanks.

But then, despite of myself, I actually started to really like this book. She so accurately describes the stench of sex worker institutions--thick with perfume, stench, cum and disinfectant, thick with thickness. If you have never been to one, this is as accurate as its going to get. Imagine people doing their dirtiest of functions in a place that never opens the windows and must saturate every surface, even the air, with chemicals to mask the smell and risk. Once I went out after a session and my friend frowned at me and said, You smell like the dungeon.

She nails the smell, she nails the waterlogged magazines constant in dressing rooms, she nails the napping--some of my fondest memories of working in a dungeon are taking naps on the bondage bed. I never really thought about how similar lives of other sex workers were to the ones of me and women in my dungeon. Until recently, I've never even been exposed to sex workers other than Dommes.

Are we all so similar? We do feast when money rolls in, and sell our things when money's tight. We're in a constant state of overly made-up and teetering off the edge of sanity. I never felt the same sense of competitiveness as she did with her co-workers nor have I felt like my stuff was going to get stolen, and I agree with her that most women choose to do sex work for obvious and good reasons, however, in a certain sense you have to be a little nuts to be in this business at all. Even if you are not before you start, you're going to be a little nutty doing this work. Yes, there are truly amazing people you meet, but at the same time you are constantly exposed to depravity, sadness, and fragility. What really struck me is that management seems to be more fucked up than the women actually doing the sex work--they admonish her for posting her own ads, they are upset when she protects her health, they are happy when the girls fight. Bad management is a consistent problem throughout the labor market, but it is beyond me why managers of sex workers, one of the most lucrative businesses with little overheard would deliberately hurt their profit makers. I wonder, are there any memoirs by those who ran sex worker institutions? Beyond "Madams" that is.

She's remarkably perceptive regarding what her clients want and how best to extract the most money from them. I'm glad she touched on how so many men seem to either not care about being in another man's filth or cum, or might actually enjoy it as she describes how they would lick the glass at her peep show obviously fraught with cum. She begins unshaven in Seattle and ends up stealing from a client in New Orleans. I enjoyed her ten year journey in the sex industry--I recommend reading this book both for the client and the sex worker.

I liked her "point system" when she's assessing her worth next to another stripper; being white gets more points, having lots of tattoos loses points, etc. But what I loved most of all, was her correct assessment, that in the end, being beautiful in this industry doesn't make you the most money, being the smart girl does. :)

I am now a Baroness

Check out my interview on Fem Domme Society here.

Los Angeles Footnight Tonight

The theme? Spring Soles'n'Toes.

I expect my hot pink little toes to be well attended.

Looking forward to seeing you there!

Slice

I have sliced off my hair to a sexy textured messy medium length thing of beauty.

I mention it here because I have plans to make it into a hair whip similar to the one here.

Will you be so privileged to feel my silky mane caress your newly beaten skin?

Doubtful.

But you can hope.

Frozen River movie review

Although Frozen River is about human trafficking, the movie's title carries a powerful metaphor throughout the film. Two single mothers must make difficult and ultimately illegal decisions to provide for their children. Because of economic peril and desperation, they have become frozen to the moral or legal realities of their respective worlds. Ray Eddy, a single white mother to two boys, loses her husband and subsequent deposit on a new double wide trailer to his gambling addiction. Lila Littlewolf, loses her husband to trafficking on the river; unable to maintain a job because she needs glasses but chooses to forgo them to provide for her son thus continues her dangerous money making venture. Both women fall victim to circumstances inflicted by men in their lives which are further compacted by racial tensions. Throughout the movie, Lila maintains Cacausin Ray does not have to worry about being stopped by the police or even have to worry about the loss of her car, overlooking that this white woman takes the same mortal and legal risk becuase she of her similiar desparation. Furthermore, Rays needs Lila to make contact with the other Mohawk traffickers.

Gradually, the movie points to poignant scenes that have led these women to such acts of crime. Poor Ray lives in a beat-up trailer with two sons and works part-time at a dollar store; even though she has been an exemplary worker for two years, her young male boss refuses to move her to a full-time position because he sees her as "short-time." We see how things really are, when a cute young employee comes in for her shift late, again. Mohawks try to help Lila stay on the straight and narrow by helping her find a job which she quits because of her poor vision, but allow her in-laws to take her newborn son right out of the hospital. When Ray questions this, Lila replies "tribal police don't get involved in things like that."

While there is one scene that teeters on cheesy, but still poignant, with an obvious metaphor to the rebirth of Christ, the film as a whole is brilliant and masterfully done. The plot is more about the struggle and relationship of these two women, brought together by the seemy undertones of human trafficking. Usually human traficking yields a high profit, yet none of the people in this movie are depicted as wealthy, on the contrary all seem to turn to trafficking because of economic hardship, the same reason creating conditions for people to become trafficked.

While the first runs of cargo are men, only at the end do we see a couple of women who are obviously being trafficked into sex slavery. The pick-up location is a strip club/bordello in the backwoods of Montreal. When the hand-off man, Jacque brings the human cargo out--two young, terrified women who appear to have already been brutalized--Ray and Lila appear conflicted because this is not the typical shipment they have accepted in the past. Against their better judgment, they decide to take them which leads to their so-called demise. But the movie ends proving these unlikely women develop a bond beyond friendship or crime partners. Their fierceness and tenacity to provide and care for their children and compassion for each other make way for an ultimately more sustainable, trafficking-free life together. And the two young Asian women safe in police custody hopefully do not get retrafficked into sexual slavery.

Reviews

During my time as a Domme in LA, I have had many lovely encounters at the Dominion, as an independent and even at Footnight. If you would like to post a review of me on Maxfisch or Allstardommes, you will receive a 20% on your next session with me. If you do not have an account at these sites and do not wish to make one, you can also give me permission to post your e-mail about our experience.

I would like to eventually post these reviews on my site. Of course, I will keep your information private.

Bea Arthur dies

I'm sad to post about another Golden Girl's passing. In honor of both Bea Arthur and Estelle Getty, I give you one of their funniest moments as mother and daughter:




Some of my favorite lines:

(About her mother)
Dorothy: I can't believe this. We have to find her. The last words I said to her were, "Shut up, Zulu."

(About Stan)
Dorothy: I could vomit just looking at you.

Stan: Hurry back muffin.
Dorothy: My feet have wings barf bag.

Gary

Back when I was just a wee deviant I used to spend quite a bit of time finding helpless males to torture via AOL Instant Messenger, when one would actually call it such, and not this new-fangled AIM.

I was introduced to "Gary" through O. He found her, because as a joke in her profile, she had written that she enjoyed repurposing electrical toothbrushes as castration devices. Little did we know what a serious fellow this was and we engaged in many a conversation over the best way to relieve him of his unnecessary appendage.

We talked at length how we should be the last to use that thing between his legs for our pleasure, not for his. We wanted to have our way with him for hours. We would never let him cum. Then after blissful torture we would remove his disgusting manhood. The remodeled electric toothbrush would be switched on, a spinning frenzy of torture and delight, applied precisely and firmly to his testicals, zip, zip--faster than a haircut, we would simply slice them off.

Discussion still continued over what to do with the mess now that we had separated it from said owner. I was of a mind to bronze them and use them as paper weights. Perhaps now I would have used them as CBT weights. I think that would be rather fitting. I like to reduce, reuse and recycle.

He was so intent and enraptured by our sick, creative minds, he offered to pay for our passage to his town to engage in this fantasy. We never had the pleasure of castrating dear ole Gary, but I have delighted in many lovely castration scenarios since then.

Why Same Day Appointments are Impossible

There has also been a rash of eager beavers hoping to get a same day appointments. Suddenly, I realized that I have never granted a same-day appointment.

So my little ones here is why:

1. Logistics
I respond to every sincere inquiry within 24 hours. Even if you are sincere and I do not think we are a suitable match, I will still let you know. Many times I will respond to e-mails within hours, but I choose not to live by my inbox. Since I enjoy so many other things, it seems limiting. So when you e-mail me at 10pm, wanting to see me at 11pm, it is very likely that I have either retired for the night or am out making my own trouble. Do you respond to all your e-mails within minutes?

2. Preparation.
Even if I did get your last minute e-mail, I couldn't possibly prepare for our time together. I start thinking about it the moment you contact me, from space, to toys, to lighting, to wardrobe, right down to the music I will play. I do everything I can to create a mutually enjoyable scene, which is not something I can do with short notice.

3. Classiness/Respect
I am not a corner barber shop you can just wander into on a lark. I am a Lady. I lead a very full schedule. It is disrespectful of Me and My time to inquire about a last minute appointment. Do you expect to be seated with no reservation at four star restaurant?

I want to play with you. I want us both to have an amazing time. Please schedule your appointments with as much notice as possible, ensuring that amazing time.

Upcoming Travel Plans

I haven't been on a vacation it what seems like in forever, so I have decided that I will make time to visit the following within the remainder of the calendar year:

* New Orleans (doubles and trouble with Mistress Erin)
* Seattle + Vancouver
* New York (Fall)

I will keep you updated with my final dates.

Human Furniture

I really enjoy furniture play. A body becomes the perfect foot rest for my well pedicured feet while I read The Piano Teacher. Or perhaps you will become a neat little stool upon which I sit while chatting with my girlfriend on the phone. A truly lovely idea is to have several new chairs made for a lively and ultimately kinky dinner party.

If only this fellow was not across the Pond:
Need Someone to Turn Me Into Furniture

Vagina Monologues + Jumbo's Clown Room

Last night I took a Beautiful Lady out for her first attendance of the Vagina Monologues at the Pico Playhouse. I have to say, I was really disappointed.

Full disclosure: I had seen the play at my small performing and liberal arts school, then decided to audition. My last performance was "The Woman who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy"-- corporate lawyer turned sex worker who loved to hear women moan, then demonstrates all the different moans to the delight of the audience. So I'm totally biased because I had such an incredibly wonderful experience working with all those women, many of whom were already my friends, but all of whom were sex-positive, feminist and who clearly loved their vaginas. That being said, I really didn't feel like these women, who were professionals and classically trained actresses, could hold a candle to the production put on entirely by undergraduates.

I DIDN'T FREAKIN FEEL THE LOVE!!! I felt like the performance was rushed, both in the manner of speaking the dialogues and how each monologue ended with lighting. We should not be viewing the back of an actress as she walks back to her mark, then darkness. But to start at the beginning, there was a pointless clip from comedy.com that I think was promoting a new show, but I can't be sure. Furthermore, I do not think this is allowed as performances of The Vagina Monologues do not allow men on stage during the performance--whether this extends to taped performances or not I will not know until I get a response from my inquiry to V-Day, the organization created to raise funds and awareness regarding violence against women.

Every year the script changes, mostly because a new monologue is written regarding a current issue such as comfort women, transwomen, or this year: the woman in the Congo. Since I was not privy to this year's script, I do not know how much the core monologues have changed, but I do know that there were several changes and omissions to those monologues. At first I thought it was the mistake of the actress, again because of rushed reading, but when it happened again I wondered if it was actually on purpose due to the nature of the edit that made it more "socially acceptable"? Making changes to the script is definitely not allowed.

Finally, audience interaction. I want you as the performer to reach out, twist me around, and play with my heart. I want you to make me feel. Instead, I found myself glancing at my friend's iPhone wondering what we would do after this shit show was over. Maybe that's harsh. Maybe that's not female positive, but damn. I can now understand why people don't want to see this show. This sucked. It's supposed to be conversational, you're supposed to interact with the audience--make us scream CUNT! Make us get moist during the 20 different moans! Make us cry when reading about rape victims of wars. There were so many subtle nuances of humor and poignancy that were totally lost--again much to the fault of speed reading.

So when this show was over, K. and I scope out the rest of our night. I mention a strip club around the corner, she says she hasn't been to a strip club in awhile. I ask her if she wants to go to Jumbo's. Her eyes light up and her face breaks into the widest smile, so I whisk her away to the iconic strip club.

Here, well, here I felt the love. I not only felt it from K.'s face at her delight of being in presence of scantily clad women, but the strippers themselves were talented, dedicated and putting their all into the show. Granted they are putting their effort for immediate monetary compensation, but I was so into them. We were inspired to take pole dancing lessons and practice on the pole in her apartment. We particularly favored two Beautiful Ladies. One dark haired beauty admired for her feistiness, dancing to Blue Monday, kicking the edge of the stage--our favorite was her move of standing precariously on the lighted tip rail in her black stilettos, then looking at the pole with a shrug and defiance, and catapulting herself on to the pole.

However, we both fell in love with a tall, Blonde thing, elegant and edged with tattoos, including a beautiful back piece of a peacock. She delicately and firmly placed her black stilettos on the mirrored ceiling, carefully wrapped her body around the pole with such artistry--at one point she only used her arms hold herself away from the pole, her body parallel and vertical--damn! I found her criss-crossed black garters wonderfully sexy.

I don't know much about these women, but I'd wager to say at least some have some training in dance and gymnastics.

My point about all this is that the women who boasted years of theater experience and fancy degrees from Oxford, they didn't put as much love and effort into their performance as the strippers at Jumbo's.

I put the full heart into my play.

Daytime Appointments

I am a morning person. I spring out of bed at 6 or 7 every morning, even if I just got home from staying out all night. While I have had some lovely early morning appointments, because to me, nothing says, Good Morning! like some good ole CBT, I just can't except daytime appointments from new clients anymore.

Unfortunately, my daytime has become too precious and there has been a rash of no-shows and johnny-come-latelies. There is nothing I hate more than sitting in traffic in LA only to find myself alone in my studio. Adding to the annoyance is people who can't seem to follow my simple explicit instructions for locating the space. I don't care if you are from out of town--in the modern age of iPhones, GPS, good old-fashioned maps and again, my explicit instructions--this should not be a problem.

It is also virtually impossible for me schedule same day appointments. No harm in asking, but your chances are just so slim. I am busy! I have a full social calendar. I have a vanilla life. I'd love to accommodate you, but I just can't. Please plan accordingly.

Saturn Returns

Interesting things happen when you are a woman in Los Angeles. Saging becomes part of your cleaning routine, strappy high heels become routine for daytime wear, Thai massages, highlights, dating actors--but when you turn 27 one of your Beautiful Lady friends hands you a well-thumbed copy of Surviving Saturn Returns.

This is an astrological event that occurs every 27-30 years, and much like El Nino can be blamed for a multitude of things such as love life, job change, etc.

I'm technically a little too early for a true Saturn Returns. But I'm so wise beyond my years I think I'm getting it early. Or maybe I'm just getting caught up with my friends' Saturn Returns.

Regardless, the last few months have been about a lot of loss in the frienship/BDSM department. Two of my dearest Beautiful Ladies moved out of LA; two others retired from professional Domme life; with one I lost the privilege of using her amazing studio. A couple of other Dommes I know socially have similarly retired or withdrawn themselves from the gawking public eye. The recession is felt all over.

I've been feeling a bit Jaded. I've been reconnecting and making new friends in the literary world where I hail from. Some of you have noticed that I haven't been posting as much or responding to e-mails as quickly--for that I do apologize.

I do not see myself hanging up my paddle any time soon, but I don't think I'll be in LA forever. Of course I've been saying that since I got here and I have made absolutely no remote plans to move. It's rather fun here. I love the weather and the farmer's markets.

On a more upbeat note, I do have a couple of very exciting, big things in the hopper that I'm dying to announce, but shall be revealed in due time.

5,000

I think the Blogger counter is still somewhat broken, but I broke 5,000 hits. Wahoo!

As usual, my blog is a work in progess. I am a writer and there are so many things I would like to write about, but they do not always seem appropriate here. Although the more I explore the internets, the more I see a league of awesome, well-written sex worker blogs. I'm proud to be part of this emerging elite crew that goes beyond idiotic drivel and smut but on to real issues and some seriously hot erotica.

I'm gonna keep on truckin'!