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.

Bordello

I went to Bordello the other night for the first time in downtown LA to check out The Cousin Lovers who are quickly becoming my favorite local band. Bordello is a kind of comfy, resplendent hell. Painted bright red, black chandeliers adorn the ceiling, there is a separate sitting room filled with King Louis furniture; there is a more traditional night club look by the stage which is ornately decorated with gold and teal--I enjoyed the decor and people here quite a bit.

Hope

For the last month or so, I have been treated to a banner of this image hung from a second story of a house in my neighborhood. For the first time in a long time, I really do have hope for my country. Granted it has taken more than eight years for things to have gotten this bad, and it will take more than four to get us out of this quagmire, but I really do have hope again.



Best quote about the election, compliments of my dear friend Misstery: "So I'm all fucked up on pain killers and I wake up and I think its morning so I wonder why the kids are still here, but really its the middle of the night, and I don't know what's going on or where I am and then I hear Obama got elected and I think, is this really happening?"

Election Day

Discounts apply to those who can prove they voted today, beatings for those who don't. Well, for this crowd, I guess I should say exploitation of hard limits.

Please vote today.

Voting feels good!

You do what?

Back in h.s., my best friend O. bemoaned how on her recent trip to Europe, dressing in all black, goth and industrial clothing, someone asked her if she was a dominatrix. To which my friend B. responded, "What's a dominatrix?" We thought he was joking. He wasn't.

I'm going to see him tonight for the first time in almost ten years. I wonder if he ever found out . . .

***Update: He did. I'll leave it at that ;)

The Last Unicorn

A long time fantasy of mine has been to dress up like a unicorn, ever since Masque when I had wanted to make a unicorn mask. Delightfully, Prince Poppycock sang "The Last Unicorn" by America from the movie of the same name.

This Halloween, with the help of the talented and artistic Mistress Foxxy, I became a unicorn.

My first appearance as the Last Unicorn was at Club Hell. I was a stark white slender thing, moving among slick, shiny and black bodies. I towered. I glowed. I danced.

On Halloween, you could find the Last Unicorn at
Moonshadow. Swingers found me of particular interest. My friend Skot informed me a "unicorn" in the swinger scene meant a single female. Well. Wasn't I the double entendre! I entered the costume contest and held out to the last round of semi-finals, losing to the crowd's applause over a couple of bloody women in scrubs.

All Saint's Day found me at a private party with my friend S. dressed up like fairy. We had quite the fantasy world theme going on. Her blue wig and glitter, my unicorn head and shimmer, we were a hit. I was honored with the Best World of Warcraft costume! My prize? a rather long sword to brandish.

Halloween is over, but the unicorn lives on! Thank you everyone for all the fun and compliments. I think I will be exploring my newfound unicorn fetish in months to come.

Veronica Mars

I haven't had cable in over five years, so I'm a little delayed on what all the kids are watching these days. Rebekah Thorne introduced me to Veronica Mars, the series about a high school female detective working on small investigations and ultimately solving the murder of her best friend. We tried to play it cool, but I give up, I love this show. It's all too rare to find a strong, likable female character on television. and I dig her. She sticks to her convictions, doesn't take any shit and faced with the decision of siding with her friends or her dad, she sides with her father leading to isolation in her high school. I love her snarky, borderline verbal domination skills. I love that she stuck by her father and does whatever the hell she wants to do anyway. I love that she does some pretty gusty stuff for a teenager. I love the opening song, "We Used to be Friends" by Dandy Warhols.

Spanking . . .

You begin too light-hearted, joking with me, not being serious at all. I quickly move to change your attitude, demand respect and subservience. I put the thick rubber collar around neck and pull you by the o-ring. You apologize and bow your head. I instruct you to lay out all your toys on the ottoman. When you are done, I want you to bend over my lap. What implement of torture shall I use on you? There is my favorite red and black braided flogger, various weights, ropes, CBT devices, but looking at you, turned over on my lap, waiting in anticipation, I find no implement as perfect as my hand. THWACK! I start spanking you mercilessly, your skin turns pink, then red. I rake my nails over your tortured flesh, parallel, lines immediately emerge.

I find your facial expressions such a delight, I purposelly neglect to put on your spandex hood.

So many toys, so many boys, so little time . . .

Ear fetishist?

A few months ago I had a facial and as is customary, the facialist also massaged my arms and hands, then she moved on to my scalp--I was in "spa space" and nearly asked her to pull my hair. I resisted, but then she moved onto massaging my ears. I do not like massages, but her touch was strong and deeply erotic . . . to my ears? This went on for such a long time, I felt it was not part of the normal facial. I know there are pressure points in your ears and I'm sure that was part of it. However, no one person could be so dedicated massaging one's ears unless she herself derived some pleasure from it as well. Being the kinky arm chair fetishist I am, I wondered, does my facialist have an ear fetish? Moreover, because I am being reduced to a euphoria not often experienced during facials, am I also an ear fetishist?

I hadn't remembered her name or face, so I couldn't request her when I went to get another facial today, but at the end, I realized who she was as she began to massage my ears.

You learn something new every day.