Katastrophe incarnate

Monday has come again and I tired, still sore, and enjoying more coffee. But not quite awake enough to share. Blurb now, story time later ! 

I’ve had an eventful day, filled with more interesting things than I care to discuss tonight. 
  
   My legs are tired, hips sore, back aches, and a variety of small places on my chest, neck, and shoulders throb deliciously in that way that only fresh bruises do. Other places feel swollen and ache just right. 
 

      Final count was 29-1, and his reward will be Substantial once we are both recovered enough. 

    A shower and macarons with a beloved movie is just the ticket tonight. 

My partner is generally a very well behaved sub. But even the best behaved servants slip up sometimes.

   Today was one such day. 
  The infraction itself is of no matter here, only that he broke a rule and a lenient Lady is a sloppy Lady. He knew the consequences. 
   I entered our room to find him kneeling and ready at the foot of the bed. Clothing fold neatly on the trunk, his hands behind his back. 
   He explained his infraction and listed off the punishment to come. I looked to the bed behind him and saw the items laid out properly. 

   I sat and allowed him to undress me, taking off my boots, stockings, and my top. Leaving me in my bra and skirt. I took these off myself and tied my robe loosely at the waist. 
   I tied his balls and applied the electrodes carefully, two to his cock, one across the perineum, and one across his tied balls. Laid across the bed hands with his hands and feet tied to the bedposts. He must endure 30minutes. 
     By minute five he’s whimpering, but he doesn’t tap out. 
   At the 20 mark I give him the option to up the intensity to earn a reward. Even through his whimpers he begged to earn his reward. I upped the intensity and he nearly cried but the final ten minutes left him whimpering but unsatisfied. 
   He’d impressed me enough to earn a reward. This time the sounding rods look the most appealing, and what better angle to utilize such devices than riding his face? 
  A most satisfactory evening all around. 

I am a dominant woman. 
and 

I am an exhibitionist. 
and 

I am a Lady. 
  For those who have difficulty with reconciling some of these, please broaden your horizons. These conversations where you try and tell me what I am allowed to enjoy in any one of those specific designations? They were old before you finished the first line, please refrain in future. 
   Now if you’d like to further discuss how I can be all three of these things at once? Respectful messages and chats are encouraged and I will explain my exploits in explicit detail if you wish. 
  

Someone out there must have called my name three times, and I am summoned to cause mischief and trouble once more! Join me for the ride, darlings! You won’t wish to be left out! 

   I think by now we are aware that Lady Kat is a creature of whimsy and chaos, that there are some who call her a force of nature, and one not to be trifled with at that? That she’s well in possession of her faculties, whether her logic is understandable to anyone besides herself or not? Yes, good, you lovely people catch on so quickly. 

   Unfortunately the peasants of my little hamlet, the good townsfolk of my little burg? They are proving very slow on the uptake indeed. 
   Not the students, children of legal age that forget their manners and basic decorum upon entering the dormitory of whichever local school they’re attending. These don’t bother me, watching the light drain from their eyes as they draw closer and closer to real life and sneer at the new freshmen coming in who are just as obnoxious as they were such a short time ago? Them I can tolerate. 

   No, it’s these baffling encounters like the one I had on my walk today. I wasn’t home or it’s have been solitary and perfect. Instead it was ridiculous. 
   I was halfway down the path, dressed modestly enough in a sports bra and leggings, since I wasn’t doing a jog or run with my sinuses aggressively congested. I had just hit the 3/4 mile mark when a woman approached me. There was a mortified looking young man with her who given their similarities in features could only have been her son. He could have been anywhere between 16-20 from the height and features, the woman was easily pushing fifty if not older. She didn’t appear to be hiding her age but if she scowls like that regularly it really does age ones face. 
  Anyways I move to the side of the path to let them by, but she blocks my path. I turn off my audiobook and ask if I can help her. 

  Mistake number one was allowing her to speak. 
    She spends the next few minutes scoffing at my question and glaring pointedly at my exposed midriff, I looked down to see if I’d sprouted tentacles or an extra arm. The young man tried to retreat into his hoodie like he was caving in on himself. 
   She then calls me a slur for sexworkers, and demands I cover myself. 
  Strike two. 
  Stunned I look to the young man with the universal “is she off her meds” look, and notice he’s a shade of red only slightly darker than the burgundy hoodie he is wearing. He’s attempting to look at my left earlobe as best I can tell, seemingly fearing making eye contact or looking at anything lower. Poor lad. 
  Then the woman begins ranting. Now I’m a fan of a good rant but the content of hers left me livid. From what I could get between her pitiful attempts at shaming me, her son is a student at one of the local colleges, and during their walk today she caught him watching me. It was nearly 80F today so not exactly hoodie weather for most people, and she said he couldn’t take it off because he’d “reacted” to my “nakedness”. 
  At this point the young man looked like he was praying some gods of old would come kill him where he stood, and my mirth at the ridiculousness of the situation died. Did I feel bad for wearing what I was comfortable in for my walk? Not at all. Was I upset this young man had a physical reaction to my body as I did so? Gods no, he didn’t attempt to harass me, try to speak to me, or blame me. He just kept on a hoodie so his mother wouldn’t see. 

  I asked her exactly what she was trying to accomplish harassing me and humiliating him. The young man was nearly in tears at this point, but his head shot up at that. he saw the disgust he apparently expected on my face, just not aimed at him. His mother began sputtering about how I should be covered and not showing so much of myself and tempting “innocent students.” 
  I very nearly growled at her to stop talking. My shoulders straightened, I stood to my full height and I let my face settle into it’s more natural countenance. Lady Katastrophe had entered the chat. 
  The steel in my voice gave her pause and the young man’s face lost a bit of its color. I addressed him directly asking first his age and what year in college he was. 19 and starting his junior year. He began attempting to apologize for both his mother and his body and I cut him off. 
   I told him I was flattered to be so attractive to him, and his attempting to be respectful and not make me uncomfortable was appreciated. His mother acted on her own and I hoped he wasn’t too embarrassed by her antics. About this time the woman began her tirade anew, noticing I was fully ignoring her. 
   Strike three.
   I stepped a single step closer to her, looking down my nose at this spectacularly foolish woman. I smiled my most charming smile, the one my partner knows means unspeakable danger if the behavior continues, and asked if she truly found my body so distracting, was it wishing for my youth or perhaps attraction on her part as well? Her turn to flush crimson. 
  While she was still gaping I wished her son a pleasant afternoon, sentiments he returned and sidestepped the woman impersonating a striped bass on land. 
    I quickly finished my walk and returned to my grandmother’s house to finish decorating for the party Saturday. And do you know I really did feel better? 
  The fresh air and ego boost did wonders for my sinus headache after all. 
   

As I woke this morning with a cough I’ve decided to take it easier on myself than I usually might.  

My partner seems to have had the same notion as by the time I’d returned he’d already set up one of my favorite movies, had the kettle on for a pot of tea. He knows just what I need.

  I am not three steps into the house before he’s there, helping me out of my jacket and shoes. He pulls the comb gently from my hair and leads me to a comfortable chair. 
  Once I’m settled he goes to make my tea, turning on the movie. He returns to me, and settles next to me. 
  Siting just at my feet, he holds my cup as we watch Sleepy Hollow. Quietly handing me the cup at just a gesture. No words required. 
      I can think of worse ways to start a day. 

I’m seated at the kitchen island, toes brushing the floor despite the high stools. My drink is warm still, little curls of steam rising off it, the print of my dark lipstick on the rim. 
  My hair is still damp from my shower this morning, I’ve left it to air dry, the chill raising goosebumps on my arms. It’s not quite warm enough now for the thin cotton dress I’ve put on for now, perhaps I’ll put on a cardigan when I’ve finished this cup. 
   The skirt is brushing my legs, rough against the smooth skin. I cannot wear this out, the light outside turns it sheer. Perhaps with the long cardigan it’ll go unnoticed. 
    The floor is cold under my feet. The room contrasting so well with my warm drink. Sweeter than I usually take it, but he’s anticipated me. I need the sweetness, I need the extra jolt, I need the contrast with the bitter coffee. 
  His hair is soft beneath my hand, the short curls wrapping around my fingers of their own accord. Kneeling at my feet, softly caressing my thighs beneath my skirt. 
  
just some thoughts over coffee
   

Ladies, Gentlemen, and assorted other preferred designations, a question has occasionally come up and that I happen to have both Practical and Academic experiences to accurately explain. 
  CORSETS! 
  Now let’s be upfront on a few things, I rarely tightlace, though when I do it’s a dramatic experience for all involved. Tight lacing can indeed cause serious complications, breathing impairment, and internal organs shifting unpleasantly from excessive use. Disclaimer now given, let get to the fun stuff. 
  The hourglass figure that’s so very appealing is a product of the Victorian ideals, coming on the heels of the Regency preference for a more natural silhouette. Some breed of support garment was worn throughout these times, save for a very brief time when embracing the natural form was the fashion. But the hourglass corset, where the waist is nipped in, the breasts pushed up and together, and the flare of the hips accentuated is what I’d like to discuss today. 
   Today the corset itself is a popular option for the top, though if you choose to wear one long term, be informed an undergarment was worn throughout history for a reason. My preference is with an underdress or loose peasant sort of top, because cotton is far easier to launder than silk. 
  Now with the history and my preferences out of the way let’s move on to types you can find today. 
  The underbust or waist trainer is pretty much on the nose. Easiest to make in my opinion, these are some of the easiest to find and  can be an attractive addition to the wardrobe for play as well as mundane. There are varieties that lace up to a full back in a vest style that are excellent for posture training when properly laced. 
   Next we have the full corset, providing support to the bust as well, these can run expensive for custom jobs. I generally wear these through the cooler months, not because the pull things in really, but because they layer so well to be perfectly honest. 
    Finally an honorable mention to the bodice we see so often. Lacing alone does not a corset make, and while these less supportive garments are often attractively laces, these make a nice alternative for the individual who can’t manage the more restrictive cousin. 
    A note to finish up here, on why corsets. I already noted the curves I already have, and any garments that accentuate that? Sold! But not every one has a ten-fifteen inch difference between their hips and waist, not to mention bust measurements. If you’re already sort of squishy, those numbers mean very little, and for me I enjoy the corset hugging my body and the attention it brings to the curves I enjoy so much. 
   Any other corset enthusiasts out there? 

I am returned from my outing, having turned many head and upset the preachy people of the nearby city. 
  I consider is a personal achievement to have gotten a rant worthy of memory today. An older gentleman with a ruddy complexion and a wife who did not appear to have changed her hairstyle since the mid eighties, decided I should be made aware of my sinful ways. 
   I was compared to several notable characters of the Bible, including Lilith, Jezebel, and the Whore of Babylon. For showing a bit of skin and daring to have breasts above the cup sizes Victoria can’t quite keep secret. 
    He referred to me as a “shameless jezebel” and accused me of purposely leading young men to sinful thoughts. 
  He also referred to these men as my “brothers in Christ” to which he got offended when I asked my sister if all Christians thought so incestuously? He began spluttering at that point and the rant ended, his wife leading him away as my sister did not quite muffle her entire laugh. 
   The facts are simple. Yes I was encouraging sinful thoughts. I’m a breathing woman with lovely curves I do not intend to hide. I’m incredibly flattered to be compared to “villains” in the Bible, so far as I can tell Lilith just wanted to be on top rather than missionary, can’t fault a girl that. And I’m sick to death of the assumption I should be Christian because I came into a city to do a little shopping. If you couldn’t tell from the visible skin and tattoos, we don’t share a similar worldview. 
  Now to go and enjoy some quality time with my partner, I was compared to Lilith after all. I could use a ride. 

Today I woke to a truly hideous situation. 
The required makings for my coffee were not to be found, therefore it was two unpleasant options, drink it black or wait for other means of caffeinating. 
  Nothing can entice me to drink black coffee since that unfortunate time in the hospital in 2019. No I won’t be discussing those events, don’t ask. 

So instead, I’m channeling my annoyance the best way I know how, vicious teasing and villainous behavior. A backless top and tight jeans hugging my curves, an innocent looking cardigan that slips off the shoulder and gives a teasing peak at the very generous profile along with my usual hair and makeup for such days? 

I’ve since gotten my Starbucks, a caffeinated milkshake more than a coffee, but adequate for preventing further mayhem. My partner is grateful, as I may be a little sweeter when I get home. We shall see won’t we, I may just be more mischievous by the time I get home. 

Perhaps you’d like to hear more of his fate after I’m done making mischief in my travels today?