Katastrophe incarnate

Well darlings, by that title I’m sure you can guess I have a little story for you. So settle in and get comfortable, perhaps a nice hot cup of coffee? Or tea should you so prefer? 

     Now as can be expected, I don’t put full effort in before I’m properly caffeinated. Wearing my natural face, letting my hair fall in its natural waves, even forgoing dressing properly. I know such a shock! But really under my coat you’d never know I’m in a vintage nightgown and robe, except for anyone reading this and my partner that sees it most mornings.

     Anyways, this particular morning I was perhaps a bit late, and couldn’t make my coffee at home, no trouble a quick stop at the starbies, and one far kinder Lady Kat returns home to dress and prep for a day out and about. 

     Or so I thought. 

     I was standing in line, as the drive thru was backed up nearly into the main road, and therefore not an option to me, and the man directly behind me began testing the very dregs of whatever patience I had leftover from yesterday. Muttering about “girls today” and “no pride in appearances”. 

    At first I was confused, the woman ahead of me was dressed in scrubs and seemed to be heading home from a shift at the hospital, but still normal enough. The college students seated across the store were both in hoodies and messy buns but not out of the norm either. The hyper critical man kept muttering. I got more annoyed, the man ordering at the counter really should have used the app to order ahead as it appeared he was ordering for the entire office, but I wasn’t in a hurry for any reason but to be away from the grump behind me. 

     I glanced back to see who he was looking at and my dislike was solidified when I see I my self am the object of his disdain. I smiled and pulled my earbud out, and he stopped muttering. 
   

     “It’s been a while since someone referred to me as a girl” turning back to the front as the man finally finished ordering and the tired woman ordered a shocking amount of espresso shots in her latte. 

   Of course rather than apologizing for his rude remarks, Prof Audacity chose to double down. He was dressed like a professor in an old college comedy, complete with sport coat and bad hair. I choose to ignore most of his words, but phrases like “no pride in appearances” and “no effort” and “never find a man like that” poked through the veil of indifference. 

     I couldn’t hold back the laugh with that last bit. He took great offense at my laugh. Poor thing. 

    By this time I was at the front and placed my order which earned a scoff from the professor to which I turned fully around and requested his opinion as he so desperately wished to give it. In my lowest boots I was still looking down on the idiot. Points for his testicular fortitude, he didn’t back down. 

   “That’s a very fattening drink.” 

   One blink

   Two 

    On the third blink both I and the barista behind me burst out laughing. 

    “Oh no, a man I don’t know, or care anything about, thinks my mocha will make me fat! However will I recover from such a blow!” The barista was cackling at my false drama. The manager struggled to keep his face straight reminding her to get back to work, and the others working behind the counter all shook with trying to keep it in. 

  A caffeine devotee of my caliber obviously makes friends with the people making my coffee, at three cafes at minimum, so my antics are nothing new here. But the audacious one had no idea what he’d stepped into. And being laughed at wasn’t his preference to start the day. 

    As I pulled out my phone to pay, the shoulder of my coat slipped down, I didn’t bother to fix it as I went to sit and wait for my drink. The silk of my robe showed clearly, and I couldn’t care less that the jerk glared, like the secrets of the universe were in that bit of silk and he was upset by the answers.

     I thought the interaction was done when I grabbed my drink, but that wasn’t to be the case. 

      “I’m just trying to help you.” 

   Oh darlings, I won’t repeat what I told the condescending bastard, partially because I was so angry I hardly recall what all I said. Heseemed shocked by my assertion that his “help” was nothing more than a poorly veiled attempt to shame a woman wholly unknown to him, who he has no chance in several hells with. For what purpose? So I’d be grateful to some misogynistic prick for making me some version of woman I don’t want to be? Some twig of a girl with no self worth beyond what some man sees fit to bestow on me? 

   Now, to my gorgeous girls reading this who are thin, you are beautiful and I mean no offense, but I’m a healthy plump Goddess of a woman. We can all agree I look damn good plump and healthy, and I’m happy to express in the most passionate language the beauty that is each and every person willing to open themself to the experience. Between the artists eye and the pansexual heart, the pictures I’ll paint with both word and actual paint will leave no doubt of the beauty I find. 

  The Prof of Audacity however, he’s opened to the harsher side of that nature. His eyes bugged out, most unattractively, at my tirade, the color draining from his face leaving his complexion a most unbecoming greyed white. His mouth kept opening as if he meant to interject some other drivel to the proceedings, but as I clearly had the floor and was at one point dating him to try and speak over me? He remained mute. The sport coat he wore might have been smart had he ever thought to have it tailored but as it sat, too broad at the shoulder and too wide at the waist, not much to say about that. He may have been a nicely proportioned man, if not for the ill-fitting clothes, probably never thought to be measured to figure out how to properly dress himself.  I usually don’t hold this against people, except youth pastors, but he’s raised my ire. 

    When I finally finished my dissection of his person, audacity, poor mode of dress, and character as a man, he looked shell shocked and mildly stunned. So I simply sipped my drink and pulled out my sketch pad and a few pencils. Effectively dismissing the idiot. 

    He left quietly shortly after that and one of the college kids came up to me. She looked at my drawing of a rather warty toad, smiled and asked if I ever draw people. I joked that I was, the likeness between the “gentleman” and my drawing seemed striking to me. She giggled, informed me my verbal vivisection was inspiring and offered me another drink. We sat and discussed her paper on premodern animal worship for a bit. By the time I left, I was back to myself, all anger washed away with caffeine and a charming girl’s admiration. 

     I’ll leave it here darlings, I still need to dress and decide just how extra I wish to be today. Until next time, don’t miss me too much! 

  Well my deviant darlings, it was bound to happen eventually! I read a moderate amount and when a Lady finds something as sinfully delicious as this little literary morsel, it’s cruel not to share! 

      I don’t do spoilers, dreadfully poor manners in my opinion when one is recommending a book, but a warning about certain content before I go further. The book contains quite a bit of blood, terribly unhealthy relationship situations, mindgames/gaslighting sort of behaviors, and various violent situations. There’s quite a bit more and a warning in the novel itself but once you’re aware of the premise, well it makes sense. 

      If you’ve an inclination toward vampires, minus the glitter, gorgeous writing and romance if the darker variety, perhaps you’ll try A Dowry of Blood, by S.T. Gibson? 

      Told in the voice of the medieval bride of Dracula, the novel is presented as her letters. The uniqueness of voice aside, the letters vary in length and content, emotion bleeding through the pages as from a vein opened to express the tortured thoughts of their author.

    She exquisitely details her involvement not only with her Lord, but with his other consorts as well.
       

          The collection of thoughts neither hurried nor dragging along, I find it difficult to put the book down when reading and as a Lady of rather extensive mental self discipline, I must say the fact delights me. Constanta wrests attention from my other pursuits and her voice reaches from the page to enthrall me to follow further into her tale. 

     Her struggle is understandable, confusion at the motives of her Lord, his moods changing so rapidly, yet the classic character of Dracula still shows through. While the Harkers are briefly mentioned, Constanta and her fellow consorts are the heart of this story. They are to the fore rather than afterthoughts in the horror. 

   Aren’t their tales horrific enough? 

   As a dominant Lady, this book strikes a chord. The relationships in these pages are not so different from many I’ve seen play out in the lifestyle that brought us to this site. But more than that, we’ve all seen behaviors like this in the world at large, not just in our communities. The vanilla world has as many, if not more cases of people behaving very similarly to the controlling Lord Dracula in this book. Hopefully with less bloodshed but honestly nothing would surprise me. 

    Now between consenting adults, I do not presume to dictate what one may or may not take part in. Unless I happen to be one of those previously mentioned adults, then I can unequivocally state that, blood play, cutting, and illegal activities will not be taking place. You’ll need a different Lady for that, this one has her limits and those are top of the list under watersports and above permanent disfigurement. 

    As to who I believe may appreciate this book? Of the submissive contingent this may be a worthy addition to your reading lists, if you enjoy a gothic horror romance, or just enjoy a gorgeously written dark romance. It tickles both fancies I find. A note though, several times in reading Constanta’s perspective, I’ve recognized similarities between her experiences and those of subs dealing with “faux or insta” doms. Abusers play acting dominants to capture new or inexperienced subs. If you have the stomach for the analysis, it may prove an excellent study in these most crimson of flags. 

     Conversely, I don’t think only submissive inclined people will enjoy the book. I certainly have and we all know where my interests lay. 

     From the dominant perspective, beyond the lovely turn of phrase and beautiful characterizations, a reading with a critical eye towards the communications between our focus and her Lord? His methods of control are sinister of course, without giving too much away, but reading through and understanding why they worked, perhaps we can effect positive discussion?
       It is tempting to scoff and declare “he’s a vampire! Of course he’s evil” but if Buffy taught us anything it’s real life can be discussed in supernatural fiction. Or did we forget the variety of monster of the week episodes that covered real life issues? For a further discussion of my thoughts on Buffy, look to future posts, I have many and this isn’t the place. Even if she fought Dracula and he used the mind control bs on her. 

    For those not inclined to full dominance or submission, perhaps a kink enthusiast or switch, or even a simply curiosity stricken soul who made it here by mistake, the book may well entrance you as well, it’s exceptional story telling in a unique voice and style. Even if not your usual preference, the book deserves a shot. 

    It’d make me terribly happy if you’d try, darlings, do give it a go. 

Surprise I’m alive! 

    Darlings I’ve had quite the holiday season and you’ll just have to excuse a certain level of neglect. Your Lady Kat was utterly swamped with frightful festivities and putting moronic family members and locals alike in their places. 

   Over the course of the past few weeks I’ve been ascribed to all manner of silly monikers. Things like “Dramatic” and “other the top” to “salacious” and “unnecessarily tempting”. The date of one family member accused me of trying to “defraud” himself and other young men present.   

     Now some of those caused eye rolling, a few vicious smirks, and one incredibly puzzled look at that last one. 

   Darlings, it’s official, I’ve had an encounter with a fundie! So you may all mark “Lady Kat deals with a Bible tyrant” off your Bingo cards! 

    Gather close my darling little deviants, it’s story time. Don’t worry, there’s always plenty of room to kneel at my feet. 

 Let’s set the scene shall we. The extended family does a couple of events for the season, and some are more party like than others, this one was a pre Christmas dinner party consisting of smoked meats and cheeses and charcuterie like accompaniments. There was wine for those of us who partake and tea for those who don’t. All fine and inclusive. It’s the sort of gathering one should expect when a baptist marries a Catholic and the two families refused to split the holidays. That was years ago but the traditions have held. 
     

      Now I’m sure you all can guess the sort of outfit I wore, a well fitting green dress in the vintage style I love best, wine red tights, and a soft cropped cardigan in white. My usual black boots swapped for a pair of black Mary janes in deference to my grandmother. I’d done some cute festive makeup, green liner and holly drawn at the corner of my eyes, and a red lip. Perhaps the dress was short, and the tights rather sheer, but a perfectly respectable outfit. My partner made sure to express his appreciation for my outfit as he was adjusting the buckles on my shoes. 

   The start of the party was fun. Holiday music and some games for the lytlings, gifts passed about and food eaten. It was when the party broke into small groups of conversation, that I had to make rounds in as the host’s grandchild, that the trouble began. 

   A cousin brought their new beau to the party. Sort of a trial by fire for the fellow. He was polite if a bit cocky sounding, and by gods was he dull. His suit was less than well tailored, which is fair enough but the fact he wore a suit at all was strange enough. Most college students I know rarely manage a button down shirt and slacks, let alone the jacket and tie this fellow wore. But it was odd. 

   He spoke to the air above my left shoulder rather than speaking directly to me. And occasionally glared at the glass of mulled wine in my hand, as if it was spitting insults at him. I pulled the cousin aside after that encounter and asked what the issue was. 

    Here’s where I was called both “dramatic” and “over the top” by the way, her excuse was he’s just very religious and my entire being was shocking to someone like him. 

    Now, dearies, you know I love to make a splash. If I don’t turn heads entering a room I’m either quite ill, or I’ve been possessed! But by wearing a skirt above the knee, properly applied makeup and having my lovely décolletage displayed to tasteful advantage, I had somehow upset this young man. Oh and drinking anything stronger than lemonade, well I’d just labeled myself an utter harlot! How sinful of me, how terribly wicked. 

  And I’m the dramatic one. I resolved to avoid them the rest of the evening. She had the look of a girl enamored with her fool of a paramour, and he wasn’t likely to be a stimulating conversation for me either. 

    But as with all the best laid plans, my own sound resolution was not to be allowed to stand. 

     Less than an hour later, I was stood discussing with my aunt and her stepdaughter their plans to visit her boyfriend and his parents. Of course some gentle teasing of the teen, and her recent rather poetic appreciations of her sweetheart was overheard by the young man. He inserted himself into our conversation and my aunt’s annoyance very nearly matched my own when he asked how she could allow me to corrupt her child that way. 

    Here I believe is where salacious was used. Glad to see his SAT vocab prep stuck. 

     But apparently my being a desirable woman, dressed as such, was defrauding to the men present. I’m related either by marriage or blood to all other males at this event. My partner by this point having taken the lytlings home for all of us, he was not present at this point. Good thing too, he’d have been laughing out loud by then. 

    Defrauding, to the best of my inferring from the ramblings he spewed at me, means causing lustful thoughts or attempting to seduce in some way. Again, this was a family party, cue my disgust and disdain. My aunt and grandma agreed. Though my great uncle laughed at the boy attempting to shame me. 

   “This is conservative for her! And she looks perfectly respectable, sonny. If you saw her the rest of the year that’d be a shock for you! She’s not responsible for your attraction or confusion, maybe work on those before coming back hmm?” The old man said, between gasping laughs. He was a teen when my mother had come along, and was the fun uncle. Rode a motorcycle until his heart transplant in the 90’s. He was also the one who bought me the material to make this dress last year. After I mentioned wanting to recreate one from a picture I’d seen of his mother and aunts in the 50’s. 

     The preachy boy left shortly after that, and we spent the rest of the evening consoling my cousin. She didn’t appreciate his insinuations or his thoughts on my appearance. She was more annoyed she’d wasted two months of her college life dating him. I told her the next guy who invites her to Bible study as a date, maybe pass on that one. 

     So my little deviants, Lady Kat is back, and perhaps you can see where she gets some of her spark from? 

It’s been a busy time for this Lady, my darlings! 

   Baking, planning, cleaning, organizing and dealing with the locals has left me little time to do much more than fall exhausted into my bed at days end. I’ve barely had time to play with my servant or do more than a quick pop in to check my messages and say “hi” in chat! 

    But with the big day upon us, I can have a bit of a break in the action and get things back on track. I’ll be answering some messages, sharing a few stories, maybe having a bit of fun for myself! 

      Until then, do be patient, after all, good things come to those who wait. 

A loooooooooong jacket. 

   Yes my devious darlings, your Lady Kat has dressed for the weather and her mood, and I comes with theme music. 

    You find before you a first class Lady, enjoying her day, six cups of coffee consumed, hair styled to effortless appearance, dressed in her favorites. 

    Snug top, semi sheer tights and a skirt that stops 8 inches above the knee, until I sit down or take too many steps.

      Bless these thick thighs. 
    Mustn’t forget my lovely jacket, the bodice fitting snug, the sleeves the actual correct length and the skirt brushing the backs of my calves. With the rest of my outfit, my metallic silver blue lipstick, and the glint of mischief in my eye, well is it any wonder I’ve made an impression?  

         I went out today with the simple errand of getting gas and some fresh produce for dinner,  a lovely salad with my balsamic glazed salmon and garlic Parmesan smashed potatoes? I thought it’s be best to go while the crowd was light. 

     The mark of a proper Lady is to handle being wrong with grace, and it is with that grace that I inform you all the place was a fucking circus! 

     Every person with a child too young to attend school, half the students not yet vacating the colleges for break, and every senior citizen with a valid(hopefully)license to operate a motor vehicle was at the store when I went inside. 

    The cart collecting younger gentleman who helped with my bags in the rain was working today, as was the cashier who assisted as well. Thankfully Karen and her harried hubby weren’t about this time. The smiles I got let me know I was at least memorable. 

   But the child of about three screeching to their father about the lady with hair just like her dragon’s scales, well lovelies, that made Lady Kat’s whole day. 

     No amount of censorious looks from the grumpy grannies and grouchy grandpas took the smile off my lips. The almost adults clearing the place out of energy drinks and patience? Not a problem for me today. The moms humming Disney songs under their breath and side eyeing me as I walk past couldn’t touch me. 

   I have Dragon hair.  

   Darlings! You know by now your Lady has a varied and delightful wardrobe.
         Some color, much black, loads of corsets and all sinful. 
       Do you think this perhaps has any bearing on my story for you today? 

    Those who’ve guessed correctly, Good job. 

         Those who didn’t, how disappointing. 

   You find me a bit excitable, darlings, Lady Kat has had such fun. It’s been a few days of self care and pampering. 

     I’ve had my faithful servant pamper me, exfoliating, massaging, shaving and moisturizing my body. I’ve had my body properly pampered as I haven’t had the time for in months. 

     I also dyed my hair the way I wanted it, purple to blue to green, in a mermaid/sea dragon sort of color pallet. I chose to pincurl it, and style it the way I wanted today. I do look good in vintage styles. 

     The makeup is an afterthought of course but drama is my go to. Perhaps I should worry about all the clown inspired makeup popping up on my Pinterest, but the Joker inspired look caught my eye. How could I resist a villain look? 

      Honestly, I was going to be good. 

   Well….. as good as I ever am. 

   Why I wound up in the store today? Does that really matter? What was I wearing, well I couldn’t let this hair and makeup go to waste! And honestly, a black corset over a green blouse and black wiggle skirt is conservative for me! I even wore tights in deference to the weather.   

      Well, my dears, what happens when Lady Kat goes out into the public sphere, on a rainy Sunday, dressed like herself? 

   Chaos and Fuckery! As always. 

  So let’s take the tally, darlings? 

Number of men nursing cases of whiplash watching me walk by? Six, possibly more. 

Number of religious ladies scurrying across the store rather than walk near me? Four, one nearly tripped on her denim skirt when I definitely did not snort at her abrupt about face. 

Number of Karens with enough audacity to try and speak to me? Just one. 

    She thought I’d be shamed into covering up after her little speech. Mostly consisting of questioning both my self respect and self esteem. 

      Cute, huh? 

   I undid another button on my blouse. Her poor husband looked like Father Christmas brought his present early. Especially when I leaned forward to smile and wish his wife “Happy Holidays” when she started impersonating a particularly unfortunate looking  trout someone caught and couldn’t decide whether or not it was worth throwing back. 

Oddly enough the young man on register and his friend who retrieved the carts were terribly helpful about bagging and then loading my purchases into my car for me. Kind of them in this miserable weather, don’t you think lovelies? 😉 

  Center yourself. 

  Slow your breathing, concentrate. 
  The target is just far enough away to be a challenge. 
   
   You must aim carefully. The wind, the distance, the size of the target itself. All are factors you must gauge. 
  Breath after breath. 

   Slow and steady. 

    No quaking in the limbs. Each muscle poised. 

   You draw back, the motion measured with years of practice and you release. 

   Your arrow finds the target, just as the five before it have. 

  Five center hits followed by the sixth. 

  Archery practice is over. 

    The energy hasn’t dissipated, but the ache in your shoulders says this must be the last set tonight. 

     Tomorrow’s practice may go longer, no need for a spotlight either. 

Cursing 

Crying 

Screaming 

Bleeding

   All bouncing around an overfilled mind. 

Hold on

Let go

Feel it all

Take a Deep Breath

        It will all be ok. 

Hello darlings! I’m sure you all missed me terribly of course but  just look at that! I’m back! 

   I’m afraid I return in a proper moods, dears. Today I dragged myself away from my cozy home for the toil and strife of dealing with a whining mother and a sniffly four year old after a less than pleasant morning preparing for holiday shenanigans I’m not even celebrating. 

   My garter belt keeps detaching from the stocking and I’ve already dealt with more than my fair share of idiocy over my thighs being remotely visible. You’d think some people have never seen a lady fix a stocking. 

Honestly. 

It’s terribly cold these past few days, making my preference for wearing as little as possible rather tricky. 

   So I’ve taken to wearing my favorite vintage lingerie under my everyday clothes. 

   Today it’s a fantastic green velvet set, complete with delicate black lace and a charming little row of tiny mother of pearl buttons fastening the tap pants and brassiere. 

    Has anyone besides myself seen this stunning little set? Not just yet. When I have my partner help me undress, one might say he’s in for quite the surprise. 

   Tomorrow I may choose the purple silk set, or perhaps the blue lace slip if a dress more suits my mood. But honestly, who can blame me wanting to feel a little sexier when traipsing about my normal day to day tasks? Especially when I have to wear my heavy coat anyways?

   Ah well, slipping out of this sweater and skirt tonight should be quite the treat. Especially once he notices the stockings.