Two Hot Girls on a Hot Summer Night

I met up with my good friend D. for some wine and food at a happy hour. Just a casual seaside bar, nothing special. We were being our jolly cackling selves, oblivious to anything other than each other's fine lady company. A man comes up to us and says, "I just had to come up and say hello to you ladies. You're drinking wine in a bar in the middle of the afternoon. You really know what you want." It's true, we do, we do know what you want.

D. claims to be "vanilla" but I wonder because she quite adeptly verbally humiliates men. She was having a ball twisting his words and telling him how "it really works."

So then, he challenges me to slap him. Never ever challenge a Mistress! Because besides slapping him, I performed some blatant nipple torture and some slightly more discreet CBT under the bar. He barely flinched. This marks a good man in my book, so I shooed him out the door to discuss things with my lady friend to see if she wanted to take this guy home and give us all a good story to tell. D. being the deviant she is, gladly agreed--she is much amused by my antics and had always wanted to watch me work.

So we make him pay our tab of course and we start heading to our apartment.

When you pick up a Lady at a bar and she invites you over to her place, but first must stop at her car to get her suitcase--you should know you are in trouble. He carried my gear bag a few blocks and up a few flights of stairs--did he have any idea what lay in store for him?

Trouble ensues and I bust out the cuffs, nipple clamps and pinwheel. Nothing better than torturing a man in the company of a fine Lady.

I don't kiss and tell, but I will say this, I left my heels on, because, I am a Lady.

I escorted this gentleman to the door and he said, "I sure hope I run into you Ladies again!"

Indeed. Usually those wild stories you hear in the letters published by Penthouse and the like are made-up, but then again, sometimes they are true, well if they are coming from The Real Thing.

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.

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!

And speaking of red-heads, check out this stained glass!

My grandfather was a glazier and I'm lucky to still have some of his pieces, such as light fixtures and suncatchers, unfortunately I do not have a place to put them up in my current abode, but perhaps this Eroti-glass by Wilson is more my speed these days.

Kinky art can sometimes, well, usually be horribly cliched and remind me of something in the dark lair of a rich gigolo's penthouse, right before Babe in the Woods shows up. This lady has got the right idea to perfectly meld class, art and kink. Well-done.

God, how I love redheads.

New Hope, PA

Today I hung out with a friend who paid someone else to torture him (gasp! the horror) as he finished up his tattoo. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, as he had been seeing Tony of the Lion's Den II for over a year to work on his various pieces. I read poetry in the lobby making fun of all the flash in my mind, until finally the conversation in the back brought me behind swinging doors. Politics. Economics. Revolution. Where is it? I liked Tony a lot; balls to the wall guy I can drink with and discourse. Although, I guess we got a little too passionate about the topic of conversation at the expense of the poor friend. I've never been tattooed, but I can only imagine it gets rougher when the artist is also vehemently opposed to corporate bailout co-existing with holiday bonuses and lavish parties, oh and forced foreclosure in Detroit. I am quite the sadist.

On the wall, there was a photocopy of an article from Good Housekeeping 1955 entitled "How to be a Good Wife". It ruffled my feminist feathers, but if you just replace "wife" with "slave" it pleases the Mistress--a later post to follow.

Afterward we went to Le Chateau Exotique where I got my braided flogger from last year. It was a little amusing to me to see brands like Syren and Stockroom tucked away in this tiny cottage-style of a store in a small, artsy town. This store definitely rivals Los Angeles in terms of quality and quantity of toys, media and fetish wear. There was another braided flogger I had never seen before, where the tails were flat braided rather than a round shape. Consider it on my wishlist. my friend offered good advice going into a kinky store where sensual overload is bound to occur and wanting nearly every beautiful, torturous implements: ask the staff what you can't find any where else.

Did anyone catch this article?

There is so much information out there, it's hard to keep up with it all. I try to read political/news and sex worker blogs daily, as well as keep up with my favorite magazines Bitch and $pread. I just happened upon this article, My Life as a Naughty Boy by Joel Stein in Los Angeles magazine's October issue.

I've been stewing over this for about a week, trying to be understanding, trying to find some virtue, trying to find anything good about this article. I give up. What a sexist asshole!

First of all, what is the point of this article? He just gave himself license to go about town and try some kinda kinky things in town. Who cares? I'm not suggesting he go straight to needle play, but why does he find it necessary to belittle everyone he meets in the "naughty" side of Los Angeles? Secondly, all he did was go to a couple of stores, a couple of classes and one commercial dungeon. For some people, this is a normal week. There are so many other things going on in town, I really hope he did do other things, but they were edited out of the article. Third, he portrays the men in the article as successful business owners, while the women are described in physical terms, sometimes positively as "attractive" and other times as he degrades their appearances from escort to dominatrix to civilian.

Okay, okay, I get it, he's vanilla. He's just not that into this whole kinky thing. Does he really deserve my scorn?

Yes, Mr. Stein deserves my scorn for two reasons: 1) This article was poorly written; no focus, no audience, no information and 2) he poorly represents the kinky community in Los Angeles. The only informative pieces of this article were quotes from people within the industry.

Oh and fact-checker, "corporal" is short for corporal punishment which means pain through physical contact, not "yelling at people." Perhaps he meant verbal humiliation? And who is Mistress Soma? I think you meant Goddess Soma.

Bond and Ball busting

So why didn't anybody tell me about the amazing CBT and interrogation scene in Casino Royale?

I went to see a double feature of Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace the other night at the Arclight Dome. I've never been into Bond movies, but I liked Casino Royale well enough, especially when a naked Mr. Bond is made to set in a chair without a seat. Now what could be about to happen?

A large knotted rope swings to hit the free hanging Mr. Bond. Pain. Screams. Excitement. The latter was for me anyway. The rest of the audience was visibly disturbed at the extreme anguish this must be causing our beloved Bond, I excitedly gripped my date's arm and whispered, I must do this to someone.

I have a perfect chair and plenty of rope. I never gave much thought to interrogation scenes, but oh has that Brit inspired me!

Work I'm liking today . . .

Holiday season . . . I'm drowning in gift catalogs, but this snarky artist caught my eye.

Bed & Breakfast BDSM

I've fantasized about the possibility of opening (in the distant future) a bed & breakfast that served healthy, organic, raw/vegan/vegetarian food. And then have a rockin' barn-dungeon. What can I say? I love good food and kink. But as it turns out a Vendela Zane has her own Segreto Dello Zane BDSM B&B in Scranton, PA.

Well, I never thought I would want to go to Scranton, but I find myself drooling over her gourmet Italian menu and stunning equipment and rooms.

Domming out in the vanilla world

Over the weekend I headed out of town for some much needed R&R with a plethora of "vanilla" friends. They have no idea what a pervert I am, and I rather relish in my deception. We'll see how long that lasts though since being surrounded by so many cute boys, I wanted to slap and tickle them all. Well, that's what I say and it's true, I would start out that way, but then once I get going, before you know it, you're tied up in elaborate bondage with electrodes on your balls and a dildo up your ass--but I digress.

Anyway, I couldn't contain myself anymore and went up to a boy and pulled his hoodie over his head, pulling the strings down tight over his face. He laughed, saying well I can just pull this off my head. I said, Oh yeah? and quickly used the strings to tie his hands together in front of his face, which gave me perfect access to . . . his armpits!!!! Muahahahahha. I promptly went in for the kill. He thought it was all fun and games until he realized that in about five seconds I had quite effectively tied his hands up and it was useless to escape. He exclaimed, Wait! You really tied me up! Ahh!!! And then I found his belly button. He went down! After tickling him on the floor a few times and resisting my urge to kick him, I untied him and thanked him for being a good sport. I went downstairs to find another willing victim.

Downstairs was the Firefighter. Oh lordy how I would love to do more than just tickle him. I crack my fingers and go in to tickle his sides, and inexplicably, as though he reads my kinky mind, bends over! Well, how could I let this perfect ass go to waste? and I start spanking him! Perfection. I love spanking manly men. Those who have lives that involve weightlifting and protein shakes, those that involve board meetings of which they control--men who are usually in control of their lives, and then they give that control to me. I have to stop myself before I get too carried away . . .

The rest of the night passed by without kinky incident. There was almost some ball busting/CBT when a boy tried to get into the hot tub with a bunch of ladies who were sans bikinis, but much to my disappointment he decided to leave to play ping pong.

Sigh. Another night, another firefighter. How was your weekend?