I just realized that I haven't been remembering to mirror My blog posts here - sorry!

With luck, I'll be doing a better job of it going forward. In the meantime, y'all can check out My blog at MistressChesh.livejournal.com

And I've got a flickr account going under MistressChesh, the latest photos are of an old pair of houseshoes that I'm trying to find a home for. Set here.

So, long story short? I'm absolutely blasted with work to do in the lab, I've got a ton of reading to catch up on, I had a lovely shopping spree at Bed Bath and Beyond last weekend, and I'm beyond thrilled that I have a dehumidifier (I snagged it with some gift cards this spring, but now that we've entered the rainy season I fucking love this thing!) Also, I need to work on My upper body toning. I had a lovely afternoon with My partner, but now My shoulder is seriously sore. Also, one of My floggers has started to fall apart (dammit!) I *could* just buy a new one, but I really think that it would be more fun to spend an afternoon making a new one. I've got the leather and dowel for the handle already, I just need to find a good ribbon and buy some lacing tipping (makes for a very pretty very evil stingy flogger).

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So, I was doing My (all-too-frequent) "I'm a consumer whore, and how!" stroll through Amazon.com, and I came acroess somebody selling the Scream heels line from Pleaser. The only review of them was basically, "I don't own these, but they look really painful. Beauty isn't pain! You're all so shallow! Don't buy these!"

(for those who aren't familiar, My favorite example of the line is here: http://www.snaz75.com/pl-scream-14.html)

I just chuckled; it's yet another person who doesn't get it and assumes that they do.

I this case, it's somebody who assumes that these shoes are for clubbing, which is about as ridiculous as assuming that the Femme line (http://www.snaz75.com/nsearch.html?vwcatalog=snaz75&query=femme&x=0&y=0) or any ballet boots (http://www.snaz75.com/nsearch.html?vwcatalog=snaz75&query=ballet&x=0&y=0) are meant for clubwear. It's about fetish, about extremes, about bondage. It IS about pain, you dizzy broad. I look at the crazy Femme and ballet boots and think about how good they'd look in a photoshoot, and how fun it would be to strap them onto a little slavegirl's feet and watch her prance around. I'd love to own a pair or three from the Femme line just to use them in photoshoots, to admire them, and to taunt some of the footboys.

The scream shoes, those are aaaaaaalll about pain for Me. See, back in MN, there was a slut who was a regular at the goth nights, a total trampling fetishist. His name was Dan or something, but he always introduced himself as mat and and would wear a shirt that said "my name is mat" which had high heel prints all over it. He would find the cutest girl with the highest pointiest heels and beg her to step on him and dance on him. On those few nights when I was wearing heels (instead of combat boots or sneakers, much better for dancing), I would trample him with relish. I probably could have made him buy Me drinks all night in exchange for it, but I don't drink and I honestly didn't realize that I could have asked -- I was having too much fun! One of My dear friends was visiting from out in the boonies, and she must have spent an hour just dancing on his chest in her knee-high platform boots, and while wearing a skirt no less! She got quite a few drinks out of the deal, and I'd honestly be surprised if he didn't come in his pants at some point during that.

You never appreciate what you have until it's gone, isn't that how the saying goes? It's been a year since I left MN, and I've been getting an urge to stomp all over somebody's chest until it's red, raw, bruised . . . hell, until it's covered in heel prints. It was just one of those almost-subliminal, back-of-My-mind things until I saw those heels again. Then I just wanted a doormat of My own to trample and abuse. *pout*

I really need to actually get My ass over to the Center for Sex-Positive Culture and get a membership, I'm totally jonesing.

Tags: Trampling Foot Shoe Fetish Heels Stiletto

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A bunch of us went to see "Red Heroine" (Hongxia) at SIFF tonight - it was awesome!
"Red Heroine" is one of the few (is the only?) surviving silent wuxia films - it was released in 1929. Amazingly, the dialogue cards had English written underneath the Chinese; it's even a really nifty script. Unfortunately, the translations were atrocious. I mean, I'm used to some of the "do not despise me" mistranslation (should be disrespect or underestimate, but it's a consistent mistranslation in tons of films) but this was just epically terrible. We could usually figure out mostly what they meant, but there were a few cases where we had absolutely no idea what they were actually getting across in the Chinese.

Still, it was just amazingly awesome. The lead was exquisitely beautiful, it was a good film (in addition to being an excellent cultural artifact), and there were some adorable moments. Probably the best part was that there was a live group playing music to go along with the movie (Devil Music Ensemble, very excellent). Apparently they've got a DVD of "Red Heroine" with their rescore, as well as one of "Nosferatu." I didn't have enough cash on me after the show, but I think I'm going to have to invest in both the DVDs.
Oh, wow, I just looked at devilmusic.org. . . they've also go "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" soundtrack and rescored "Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde" and rescored "Big Stakes" - this is awesome!

Dammit, now I'm wishing that I hadn't just spent $100 on a new fountain pen. I mean, it's a really nice fountain pen, and I need a second everyday one after the Lamy started acting up, and I'm trying to build a collection of Pelikans. . . OK, I don't regret getting the new pen, it's just that I wish I still had that money so that I could blow it on new DVDs.

It made Me realize how much I miss getting to go to shows regularly. I got totally spoiled during SIFF this June, and I was very spoiled back in MN when I had a friend to take Me to the ballet. I haven't gone to the ballet or the opera at all since I came to Seattle, and while I keeping thinking I want to go see Theatro Zinzanni, I haven't managed to make it there yet. (zinzanni.org, it's a fantastic show). They even have gift cards! Oh, but any gift card to TZ will have to be at least $150 - that's the minimum for premium seating for Me and a drink or two.

I was joking to My friends that I should get Myself a music and culture piggy or something, somebody to take Me to all the shows that I want. And maybe, maybe if I'm feeling really generous I'd even let you hold My hand on the way out. Highly unlikely, but potentially possible. Then again, given My luck so far in finding local sluts who aren't either collared or total flakes, I'm not going to count on it.

But back to SIFF, I may have to take some vacation during the film festival this year to ensure that I get to see everything I want to see. And the Halloween lineup is fantastic!
24 Oct: Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein double-feature
25 Oct: The Invisible Man
26 Oct: Dracula and Dracula's Daughter double feature
27 Oct: The Wolfman and The Black Cat double feature
28 Oct: The Body Snatcher and I Walked with a Zombie double feature
29 Oct: Cat People
30 Oct: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari
31 Oct and 1 Nov: Freaks
Nov 1-6: Rosemary's Baby

So basically I'll only be not at the theater on the 31st from 24 Oct through 1 or 2 Nov (depending on when I decide to watch Rosemary's Baby).

And starting soon will be the Political (non)Science series! 3-7 Oct, it's an excellent lineup:
The Parallax View, Gabriel Over the White House nd A Face in the Crowd, Bob Roberts and Bulworth, All the Kin'gs Men, and The Candidate and All the President's Men. Add in all the premieres that will be happening, the Shakespeare on Film series 10-15 Oct, and it will be a rare night that I'm not in the theater!

I should probably just declare a moratorium on reading any theater or dance reviews for the next month, otherwise I'll be doing nothing but go to shows. Granted, worse things could happen, but that means less time for Me to torture all of you. And I'm sure that for some of you, that would be a tragedy indeed.

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www.detailstoys.com

I had to stop listing all the things I wanted midway through the high intensity flogger page; it was clear I'd never be able to keep track. Really, all I have to do click on anything other than the collars and it's something that I want. And half the collars I want. The horsehair flogger will probably be first on My list. I'm so mad at myself, though. I think I threw away the long braid of My partner's hair from ages ago, when he went from hair to his sweet ass all the way to a buzz cut. I'm pretty sure I finally chucked it during the most recent move, since he'd expressly stated he would not wear it as a collar (an itchy itchy collar!). It would have made a fabulous flogger.

Well, fabulous more for the imagery than the pain, but fabulous nonetheless.

Gods, it will be so so nice once I'm into yr 3 of grad school and don't have to waste time on classes and exams. I'll have much more time available (probably a lot at home for reading papers and computational work), and I'll be able to commit to owning a house slave. Right now, all that I can commit to is a select few online darlings. The only ones I want to neglect are the little fucktards who get off on being treated like shit. And if any of said fucktards are reading this, let Me know. I have to say that I'm intrigued by this particular fetish.

Gah, speaking of fucktards, it seems like this little slut I'm chatting with just decided to up and start beating his meat. I hope the little whore hadn't planned on speaking to Me ever again, as it isn't happening without a good explanation and some groveling. Stupid slut, no self-control. Apparently the little sub boy got an important phone call in the middle of our conversation. he still should have notified Me, but I'm letting it go with a warning.

Ah well, you win some, you lose some. It runs the gamut from hilarious to gruesome.

Now, Guitar Hero! Guitar Hero heals all irritation (and then irritates Me, since I suck at it)! Guitar Hero distracts Me from pretty pretty things I cannot yet afford! Yay!

Tags: Floggers Whips Chains Spanking Paddle Collar Toys

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I had a fabulous time this weekend at a shoot for TickleTown, a tickling fetish site. It's totally one of those fetishes where I had no idea it existed, but I wasn't entirely surprised to discover it. The idea is pretty simple, it's just a cute girl getting tied up and tickled by a couple of other cute girls. There's usually no storyline, just lots of rope bondage, giggling, screaming, and squirming. (Though apparently I may get the chance to do one later with a witch trial storyline - I only hope that we get to wear period costumes!) I definitely enjoy being the tickler more than I enjoy being the ticklee, though they're both a total hoot. This time, I have to say that the most fun part was the studio we were in. One of the amazing local Dommes was out of town, so we were able to rent her studio. What a space!

There was a little isolation cell in the back, I so dearly wanted to throw somebody in there. A gynecological exam table, a high green bondage chair, a swing, two cages, two different spanking benches, a gorgeous metal St Andrews cross, and so many attachment points everywhere! I was practically salivating. I've been reading up on her since Saturday, and she is quite the lady. I'm going to have to work My lovely little ass off to make it to that level of awesome.

Which brings Me to My next point, out with the old and in with the new. This applies to clothing, like everything else, and for me in this moment, it applies especially to clothing. My wardrobe is appallingly plain and vanilla, still stuffed full of the jeans and tees I wore constantly through college. And all those weeks I just bought more socks, cotton panties, and pantyhose instead of doing laundry, those are definitely coming back to haunt Me. I purchased a cute lingerie dresser recently, and it holds maybe 75% of My lingerie collection (not even counting My socks). It's officially ridiculous. And I know that a few of you boys out there would love to have items of Mine to worship.

So here's the plan - you help Me upgrade My wardrobe (daywear, fetishwear, shoes), and I gift you with items and photos of Mine (and I don't have to do quite so much laundry! whoo!) Contact Me if interested.

In the meantime, I'm going to run off and harrass some of My new contacts in the fetish photography world. World domination, here I come!

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So I finally got Y! messenger working for the first time in forever.

Oh my gods, I am twenty different flavors of annoyed.

First, I can't get into the Role Play chat room for an unknown reason (literally, "unknown error"). Then, I had somebody freak out at Me for being a Domme (like, you're evil, doing those awful things to people! Dude, you're in the "Hot Tub" chatroom, looking for a cam to watch or a chick to cyber with; pot, meet kettle.) But most of all, it's the fucking buzz button. I don't know where it is or why it exists, but some people use it after like five seconds without a response. What the hell? I'm supposed to be a trained monkey, answering your questions and showing you My tits because you keep pressing a damn button? Fuck off!

Also, don't insult the glasses. The glasses are sexy.

Still, I found a sweet boy who was very shy about his desires - I think I convinced him to explore things a little more, stop being scared. Also, had a bit of a madonna/whore complex. My husband and I can be exquisitely dirty, but we also enjoy cuddling, chaste blushing kisses in public, and the occasional public ass grope. And the rare bit of public sex. It's not an either/or thing, it's a yes, please thing.

And with luck, I'll be walking a cutie through the basics of sensation play in half an hour or so. On the whole, pretty fun and pretty damn annoying. I'll probably be signing in on an irregular basis a few times a week. Feel free to catch up with Me when you want (mistresschesh), just know that I'll ignore you if you aren't interesting, ban you if you're actively annoying (using the buzzer, asshole!), and you only get so much of My time for free. You gotta entertain Me or make Me happy in some fashion if you want Me to keep replying.

Good gods, fucking buzz button. What imbecile came up with that idea?

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After job insanity, wedding planning, and the inevitable post-wedding illness, I'm back on My feet (mostly). And I've got giant antibiotics of DOOM to make Me all the way healthy.

I've been enjoying My new computer immensely, and I've been having some fun with Yahoo messenger, now that it's all set up. My plans for world domination are proceeding apace. All I need now is a good microphone, an upgraded camera, a website, an army of cabana boys. . . OK, so it's not like My plan doesn't have some major steps left, but I have faith that everything will continue to tick along, and soon I will rule the world (or something).

Do these antibiotics fuck with My head, or is that just the Malibu? Whee!

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My dearest purchased several toys for us recently. I confess, he got quite a nice selection, but I only had eyes for the Wartenburg Pinwheel. Anybody who is at all into sensation play absolutely must have one of these delightful little toys; they're cheap and amazingly fun to play with. Well, at least I find them to be amazingly fun to play with.

I had a wonderful time just using it on Myself at first, getting a feel for the sensations, how hard to press, how fast to go, how slow. It felt lovely running across My breasts and stomach, up My legs. The boy was too afraid to use it on Me; he's always so scared of marring My perfect skin, afraid of hurting Me. After a while, I got bored of just using it on Me, so I sat up and started running it across his belly - My God, how he twitched!

Apparently, My boy is much more sensitive to this particular sort of prickly pain that I am. I have to press a bit to really get the bite of it in My skin, but for him, all that is required is the weight of the tool. I was having an immense amount of fun running it along his inner thighs and towards his balls when he started begging Me to stop. He could barely control his twitching and was terrified that he would lose it and accidentally knee Me in the head! This couldn't be allowed to happen, of course, so I decided to break out the rope.

At some point, we inherited a 500 m spool of rope; it's fairly cheap and rather stiff and plasticky, but it lasts through a couple ties and suffices for all but the most complicated knotwork. (I wouldn't lace a shibari corset out of it, nor would I trust it for suspension, but I have put the boy in a couple of torso ties with it, to excellent effect.) I cut ties of appropriate length to stretch him, spread-eagled, across the bed, then commanded him to stand, feet apart, bent over in front of the wall. I warmed him up in our usual fashion, open-handed spanking of his ass and thighs until they were bright pink, then a good lashing with a knotted ribbon flogger until his back was striped pink and pale, finished with a thuddy leather flogger and a little ball-flogging. The flogging went on longer than usual - he kept twitching and rounding his back, instead of sticking his ass out with an arched back, like I prefer. The boy has such a lovely ass, so perfect for spanking, for violating - I want him to show it off at all times. Of course, this lovely ass of his means that I sometimes abuse it rather viciously, so I can't blame him too much for wanting to shield it from the worst of My punishments.

When his breathing was starting to get gaspy and ragged, I finally ordered him down on the bed, spread-eagle and on his back. I think he realized just how serious I was about pain play when I broke out some hand-towels and started wrapping his wrists and ankles before binding them with rope. I always wrap the rope several times before knotting it, but since the rope in question doesn't tie the best, being slick, I worry about the knot slipping too far in and cutting off ciruculation when he starts struggling in earnest. My boy just laid there with his eyes a bit wide, obeying all My commands to spread his ankles further and further still. The rope ran from one ankle, through that corner's hitching ring, under the bed, through the opposite hitching ring, and up to his other ankle. It took a few tries, but I finally got it snug enough that he didn't really have any ability to move beyond stretching his legs a little farther apart til he hit the limits of his flexibility. His arms were tied in the same way, at which point I realized that I had switched the portions of rope, putting the long one on his arms instead of on his legs. He should be thankful that I overestimated the length of rope required in each case, otherwise he might have had to do the splits! :D

I didn't want that extra four feet of rope to go to waste, so I pulled out one of our cock rings. Unfortunately, he was pretty damn hard at that point, which made it quite difficult for Me to fit the ring without crushing his testicles. I kind of like them being intact, at least for the moment, so I had to fix the situation.

"Think of Me fucking Dick Cheney."

"Oh. . . oh God. . . that's. . . I can't unimagine those things!"

Despite his protests, it didn't work terribly well. Then again, he has expressed a few cuckhold fantasies, so that may not have been the best boner-killer I could have come up with. I ran through a few more awful thoughts, his mom in a bikini, our annoying neighbor, made him run through multiplication tables. The math actually worked fairly well, but the second that I started manipulating his junk, things started stiffening up again. I finally threatened him with forcing the ring into place and damn the consequences if he couldn't keep it down. I guess the threat of irreparable bodily harm actually works for him, I was able to get the ring into place with nothing worse than a little gasp as a coaxed his second nut through the tight steel ring. I ran the remainer of the rope down to the ring and tied his wrist to the ring with just a couple inches of slack. I gave a few experimental tugs to make sure that it was tight enough, then sat back to enjoy My handiwork.

He looked so lovely, all tied down and terrified. I wanted to gag him and complete the picture, but I figured that since it was our first time with this particular toy, I should probably leave his mouth free for a safeword in case it got to be too much.

I broke out the pinwheel, running the points along My index finger, staring at him and drinking it in. So lovely to watch his eyes widen just that little more, his breathing quicken, his limbs begin to tense up. I started slow, running it along the outside of his thighs, the top of his chest. He twitched and trembled in the most wonderful way, clenching his teeth to not make a noise. Then his arms and underarms, his armpits, his belly, his nipples, his hips, his inner thighs. I started going faster, still just letting the weight of the pinwheel do all the pressing, one nipple then the other, up and down his stomach, across the front of his hips, closer and closer to his cock and balls without quite hitting them, yet. His breathing was ragged and gaspy, he kept flailing and twitching against his bonds by turns. His eyes were screwed shut and his teeth were clenched; I think he was fighting not to say anything, afraid to say the safeword. Such a sensitive boy.

I got a total case of the evil giggles. I was laughing and chuckling, somewhere between a girly giggle and a maniacal laugh. I had to stop for a minute and lay down against him to catch My breath. I can't remember what he said to Me, something about that laugh being terrifying and Me enjoying Myself. So of course I decided that he hadn't had nearly enough and started in on him again, pressing just a little, then a little more. By the end, we had had some very intense CBT with the pinwheel, and he was sweating from the exertion. It was wonderful.

I decided to use him as My little blow-up doll, whispering all sorts of awful thing in his ears, calling him My slut, My whore, My little bitch only good for My pleasure. He satisfied Me, as only he can, and I enjoyed watching him flail under Me and arch into Me. It was absolutely glorious. When I finally untied all his bonds, he curled up against Me and we fell asleep for a good hour. We were both glowing for the rest of the day. He swore that one of these days, he's going to wrestle Me into bonds and turn the pinwheel on Me for revenge. We'll see; I've got more grappling training than he does, so while he may have the height and weight advantage over Me, it promises to be an interesting fight. 

Tags: Wartenburg Pinwheel Painplay Sensation Rope Bondage

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I've been super-busy between school and work lately. And I've been a little burned out on the Domme front as well. I was so excited about rocky, he was being a good little boy, wanking to Me everyday without coming, sending regular emails, worshipping so dutifully. . .

I should have realized early on that he was more caught up in his side of the fantasy than anything to do with Me. Questions about Me and My desires were perfunctory and rare, and when I gave him permission to send Me a fantasy of his, it started to go off the rails. What started as one fantasy in an email (told in exquisite detail), then one a week (pages long), turned into almost daily diaries in ridiculously overwrought prose of his deepest darkest desires. It would have been OK, if a little silly, if he had only followed My instructions.

After the first few fantasies, I had come up with an evil little assignment for him. Nothing too crazy, though it would probably span a few hours - some maid work in nipple clamps, duct tape, and twine; some tease and denial, some mild cbt, more tease and denial, perhaps forcing him to prostrate himself in front of the webcam for My amusement, and finally more tease and denial with a chance to finally come if he had satisfactorily completed My tasks. I was willing to do a webcam session, set up a webpage if we couldn't find a mutually satisfactory time, or even burn the assignment and t&d photos to a CD and send it to him. All he had to do was tell Me when and where we would be carrying out his assignment.

And yet, he never did. After four emails asking him about if he had a webcam and when he would be cleaning and jerking for Me. . . screw it. I don't have the time. It's obvious that all he wanted was some pretty thing that he could project his fantasies onto without any commitment, relationship, or mutual enjoyment. All he wanted was to know that some cute chick was reading his dirty fantasies.

I did feel guilty for ignoring him at first; it is one of the nastiest punishments a Domme can inflict on Her subs. And then I realized. . . he isn't one of My subs. There was an initial expression of desire to be one of My little playthings, one of the darlings in My stable, but there simply wasn't the requisite follow-through. It's not enough to wank almost-off to My picture every day if you don't have any desire to cede to My demands and desires. I do want My little darlings to be happy. I want to give you moments of exquisite and transcendent pleasure amidst the drudgery of everyday life and the torture that is bowing to My demands. I do. But I also want you to submit, to admit that My pleasure comes first, that your joy is in giving Me joy, that submission itself is a delicious terror and a joy all its own.

And finally, when you aren't getting what you want from Me, do not whine and ask if I desire more tribute. I don't care how much you throw at Me, you get what I want to give you, and I'll only be inclined to cater to your desires if you have already given Me what I desire most - you following My instructions, bitch!

Tags: Online Expectations Tease And Denial

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