Katastrophe incarnate

Sitting by the kitchen table, sipping my wine as I admire my hard work coming together.

      The pasta I made earlier today going into the boiling water making a lovely soft splash inside the big pot. The thick red sauce I made from scratch with my father simmering next to the pasta pot. Mini eggplant medallions frying on the back burner. 
    The meal making me smile isn’t surprising, eggplant parmigiana is a favorite from childhood. 

   No the smile tonight has nothing to do with the food, delicious as it may be. 

   The smile is for the man finishing the preparation for me. Wearing my apron and a pair of old worn blue jeans. He came in half an hour ago, when he got back in from his chores on the farm. Saw what I was making and asked me to let him finish up while I changed and got comfortable.
      I returned to find my a glass of my homemade dandelion wine waiting for me. We both know by the time I finish my wine dinner will be served. By the time dinner is eaten, and the tidying has been finished, I’ll have a full plan for how I want to reward my thoughtful servant. 
      Good behavior must be encouraged after all! 

Having the sort of dull Monday, sleepy morning, too much coffee, and terrorizing my family. The morning dragged on, and I had no one to play with me today. 

My partner had farm chores to do, and my sister had to checkup this morning so I didn’t even have her to talk with this morning. She made it by a little later, but the morning was horribly dull for me. 

The farm chores actually wound up relatively quickly, and they had me come out once they’d set everything up. My sister got there and we had the best time practicing archery today. I spent hours with a bow in my hands and I can’t begin to express how relaxed I am now. 

I think an extra special reward is in order for that thoughtful man who pushed through chores that usually take half the day into a couple brief hours, just to set up such a lovely surprise for me. Perhaps a little sensual massage is in order? 

My season is here, or at least close! 

Soft sweaters and tight turtlenecks, stockings and thigh high socks, boots and fuzzy socks? 

Yes please to all of it. I’m so over summer it’s ridiculous! 

Today I’ve pulled out a witchy little ensemble, and gone off the frighten the locals! I even included the cute little red hat that makes the Bible thumpers do a double take. 

I know full well I’m likely to get blasted with another disgusting heat wave at any minute, melting like the wicked witch just by stepping out into the swampy air. 

But let me have my fun while the weather lasts! 

stay spooky folks! 

It’s going to take a wild amount of caffeine to bring me fully awake today. 

In retrospect, reading until two in the morning was not my wisest decision, but those who read A Court of Mist and Fury after hating the so called “romantic” lead in A Court of Thorns and Roses, will vouch for me. Certain allowance must be made. 
 
  Hoping for a more interesting weekend, but I’m not sure if that’ll happen. Last week involved a three story house converted into a bookstore, and what could possibly top that. 

Oh wait, my every faithful servant discovered a new interest this week. Using the Tens Unit I bought him at the beginning of the year for back pain in a decidedly less innocent way. 

  Yesterday I was a bit bored, a bit annoyed, and my partner could feel it as surely as if I’d painted the words across my body for him to read. Cue a visit from my very favorite brat. 

  He spent the next half hour (first try with this after all) whimpering as pulse after pulse of electricity teased him for me. His hands clasped behind his head, he was to stay in that position until I deemed his punishment over. He did hold his position, straining and taut so as not to move and displease me.

   At the end of the first ten minutes he was panting and quivering. 

After twenty he was begging. 

By the last five minutes he was babbling incoherencies mixed with my name. More a prayer than anything else. 

As I peeled the electrodes off, his twitching making it a little tricky, he still held his position, knowing I’d free him exactly when I wished. Ropes and cuffs are nice and have their place,  but not in that moment. 

It was much later when I had another long stretch to think, I realized he’d not actually asked to move in all his begging and entreating me. 

My afternoon afterwards was something of a letdown, but the day itself wasn’t bad at all, just slow.

Here’s to a weekend off to a sleepy start!

Things have been properly dull today, despite an energetic morning. 

I managed my usual routine, even took a little time to play with my partner before his appointment this afternoon. 

I found my favorite black lipstick, managed to get my eyeliner even and relatively neat, I even had plenty of reading time. All the things I generally long for on my busier days. 

But today when these things all line up right, I’m bored half to death because I’m less busy than I’m now used to. 

Time for me to go back to reading I suppose. Boredom is absolutely not my favorite. Gives me time to plot and everyone knows that’s dangerous! 

Over the months I’ve gotten quite a few interesting messages, ranging from intelligent appeals for further interaction, to one single line entreating me to conquer and subdue the author. 
    
     There have been a couple unsolicited pictures which have been thoroughly studied and analyzed with the utmost attention as examples of anatomy for my artwork, as the pictures all seem to be at least average, though posture is often deplorable in most of them. I don’t complain of course. Obviously I’m less than impressed when I’m sent such pictures without expressly requesting them.

    Any pictures I’ve requested have been above expectations to say the least, but honestly I thought it time I share a little about how best to approach a Lady Domme like myself.  I’ll break it down into three categories. 

1) Length! I am least likely to respond to a single word or short sentence, at least with anything resembling interest. At minimum express your reason for messaging me. Did you like my sketch and wish to know more about my artworks? Was it the alternative hair and piercing? Or perhaps you saw a busty Domme and wanted to try your luck. As I’m not currently in possession of mind reading abilities, I will not know what you are looking for from me, become annoyed and you’re already on thin ice. A few sentences about what you’re interest in me is, perhaps even a paragraph, is perfect. 
     Conversely I do not need your entire life history including transcripts and half a dozen references either. While I may take a shine to you and ask questions later, your memoirs in a first message is just too much. 

2) Pictures! I am not opposed to receiving pictures, even those of unclothed individuals. I am opposed to receiving such from persons with whom I’ve had not previous contact. When presented this situation, I simply appreciate the gift of free anatomy references, and have no further contact with the sender. Sometimes that’s blocking them, sometimes that’s simply not answering them till they get the hint. 

      If a picture is sent, a headshot is more than adequate or a clothed body if the sender should wish to show their body. Otherwise waiting until an understanding is established. Ladies can be vicious when unimpressive nudes are concerned, and we always have friends to discuss them with. 

Finally 3) Limits. As a Lady Domme, one of the biggest red flags is “no limits” in messaging or the potential submissive’s profile. Everyone has limits, and those should be understood and discussed before a Dynamic is entered. Equally unacceptable is pushing my limits. 

I have very set limits, and in a dynamic limits should be fully discussed and understood by all parties involved. I have a reason for each limit I have, soft and hard, and begging me to change them for you is the fastest way to turn me off to any attraction I may have begun to feel. My interest will dry up like a sun baked lake in a heavy drought. 
    I am always happy to share stories and my experiences with curious individuals, but respect is nonnegotiable for me. As a Lady I demand that respect, and I will return it as it’s earned. But hopefully this little post helps others rethink their strategy. Ladies do tend to be much more inclined to engage a servant with good manners after all. 

Taking a day to do a little less, or I tried to anyways. It’s not really worked out well. Being such an eventful day, hoping I can have some time for my partner this evening. Till then, this is all I got today! Too much day! 

Well, some recent interaction have prompted me to retake that test. The newer results are eye opening. Several things are the exact same, or incredibly close. Go figure I’m still a good bit Dom and an experimentalist. 
    According to this I’m a bit more of a switch than when I took the test in January. My definition of monogamy is also a little different from the dictionary version as well it seems. And everything else really held true save two little items on the list. 

I am a lot more than just a bit of an exhibitionist and voyeur. Thinking about it now, is anyone actually surprised by this? Those who know me certainly aren’t!

My afternoon looks to be packed today, so I’m taking the morning to enjoy a little something just for me. 
  So I’ve got a latte, larger than you get at the coffee shop, a croissant from the local bakery and horror movie. 
  Terror Train starting Jamie Lee Curtis, with coffee and a tasty croissant, the day is going to be a good one. Maybe more later, but for now have a great day! 

Good evening, you find me in a saucy mood today. A mildly antagonistic mood as well, shall I tell you why? 
  I went into the store today feeling good about myself. I wore an outfit I like, short flippy skirt, thigh high stockings, and a tight little top under a cardigan.

I did my makeup with a dramatic eye, deep dark red lipstick, and a tinted moisturizer in place of heavy foundation. 

     I wore my hair up for the first time since I did the blue. My bathroom no longer resembles the sacrificial temple for the Smurfs, but my towels the past few days have varying degrees of tie dye sunburst that would be jarring if the towels were any other color than black. 

   I wore my favorite black boots with the mild heel and shiny silver spikes around the ankle area. I was the goth beauty I so love to be. 

And I felt amazing. 

Cut to my entering the loathsome store where all the people test my patience like it’s some sort of sport. I was having a tolerable shopping experience, on my phone more often than not, but who isn’t these days. When I was stopped by two women. They were buttoned up in pastels and denim, everything from the neck down covered. I’m all for modesty, it’s a cultural thing for some, religious for others, but a personal choice for all. I personally don’t give a flaming fuck for modesty and as long as I’m comfortable, it’s my business how much or how little I wear. What I take exception to, is being told I must do something, anything, by any mere mortals. 
Some in the back already know what’s coming. They began to approach me, I walked away, they tried again, I sidestepped again. 
  And then in the wine and beer aisle they caught me. 

  I was treated to a personalized sermon, complete with supposed Bible verses I didn’t listen to, and a battery of inane questions about what my father would think.
   As he complimented my hair and makeup on the way out? Yeah think he’s not bothered. Then the elder of the two asked why I should want to be “leading our brothers in Christ unto sinful thoughts?” 

    I like Christ, he hung out with society’s outcasts. Cared for the suffering, the weak, and took a whip into the temple when capitalism invaded it. Alright behaviors in my book. But these people using his name to try and shame me? 

Fair game. 

I grinned with my perfectly made up face, widened my eyes a bit more to unsettling rather than annoyed. I changed my posture to stand fully over these two, neither had anywhere near my height. 
  I expressed my thought that perhaps if they taught their boys to treat women as people instead of property, unless they expressly request such, maybe they’d not need to worry about what I wear, or what their men are thinking about seeing me. Perhaps I could give them a few tips for training their men better.

They looked as if I’d vomited pea soup on them as I left. But I was feeling too good not to smile genuinely as I made it to checkout. 

Some days, we just have to embrace the mischief.