Humbled and Proud.

It is not often that I am moved, or even feel humble - It is not often that the work I do is appreciated. Nor it is often when a sub shows thanks or acknowledgment. Occasionally I will receive a gift - this is NOT as some subs think PAYMENT or as some may say "Mistresses are greedy, money grabbers - always wanting".  The purpose of giving gifts is to bring joy to both the giver and receiver.

A gift bestowed upon a Mistress is not a mere act of payment - When you are planning to give a gift to someone, you usually start thinking about it ahead of time. What would this person really want? Then, of course, you start searching for it and saving for it.

Bestowing a gift upon a Mistress is about a moment of pleasure, a slice of be happy, a piece of you are special. It is part of what it means to be human. In virtually every culture, gifts are a crucial part of the essential process of creating and maintaining relationships.

Occasionally I will receive a gift, and sometimes I will receive a gift worth more than its weight, cost the sender nothing but gained My respect and adoration. Gifts do not need to expensive, they need to be thought out and personal.  Below is the email I received from Slave Ash, which is a gift he has sent me...The biggest gift any one can receive - A simple THANK YOU.

Dear Mistress,

I hope you are keeping well.

 It has been a long time since I mailed you. In the past 5 months since I left UK, I there has not been a single day when I don't remember our sessions together. You, dear goddess, in the short time I interacted with you, opened my eyes to a whole new world. At times I felt like you had a direct connection to my mind and thoughts. something which I want to experience again.

 However, all good things have to come to an end. My parents have started to put pressure on me to "settle down". I don't think my family and parents will ever understand this craving I have to be subservient to a strong dominant. Some things even the people we are closest to will never understand. To hide this aspect of my life, I am ashamed to say, I had to get rid of every piece of female clothing and shoes before going home, lest they find it and my secret come out.  I beg your forgiveness for this. My parents happiness, was all I was hoping for. I hope the bag of clothes will help someone else in need, since I had kept it out for charity collection.

 I was hoping to be back in the UK by the year end. However, because of the proposed immigration fee and tighter laws, my company has stopped all transfers to UK  in the near future. I have been keeping track your blog posts. ( I hope you dont consider it to be stalking) I was saddened by some of the recent ones. In my humble opinion, anyone who disrespects you or your precious time should be kicked down the stairs of your dungeon. (I hope you dont consider me as one of those)

 I do hope we can still stay in touch, even though I know not when we shall be to meet.

 Yours Humbly

slaveash

Over the Rainbow in Turkey

Courtesy of: https://www.vocativ.com/09-2013/over-the-rainbow-hopes-dim-for-turkeys-once-promising-gay-revolution/

Hopes dim for country's once-promising gay revolution

Just a few months ago, it almost seemed as if Turkey was on the brink of a gay rights revolution. Protests against the conservative government were raging, and LGBT groups, accustomed to fighting lonely battles on the sidelines, were suddenly thrust to the forefront of the demonstrations. By sheer luck, Istanbul’s Pride Week took place on the heels of the unrest, giving the gay rights movement a surge of activist support and front-page international attention.

At one Pride Week event, Artunç Yavuz, a 27-year-old editor and LGBT activist, still marveled over the acts of tolerance he witnessed at protests in Istanbul’s Taksim Square: soccer thugs agreeing to stop screaming “faggot” at police, socialists and anti-capitalist Muslims applauding the rainbow flag. “They’re seeing us and they’re accepting us,” he says.

His optimism was widely shared among other activists and observers, who saw the LGBT movement’s prominent role in the protests as a sign that Turkey’s pervasive homophobia was finally starting to ebb. Yet as the summer dragged on and the protests lost steam, this initial surge of hope among gay rights groups began to seem misplaced.

There were early signs, in fact, that even this summer’s broadest calls for greater human rights and freedoms were neither mainstream nor prompted by a shift in the public’s mood. At the height of the protests, in response to the new political threat, Turkey’s Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan held a rally of his own, which drew hundreds of thousands of supporters to a neighborhood on Istanbul’s coast. Polls are sometimes unreliable in Turkey, but according to one  often cited survey released in July, nearly 60 percent of Turks not only opposed the protests but viewed them as an attempted coup.

His for the Taking

WRITTEN BY TAWNY TRICKSTER

All Europe was abuzz with talk of war as Christmas 1914 approached. The young master had gone to London to join a cavalry regiment, convinced it would be an adventure. Melanie had a secret crush on the young master but as a housemaid the chance of him even noticing her were slim, no matter how often she fluttered her eyelids and flashed a glorious smile in his direction.

She was thinking about the young master this morning, how dashing he'd look in his new uniform, imagining him sweeping through the wide front door, stamping snow from his shining boots, before coming for her... Lost in a daydream Melanie's arms reached out and knocked the crystal decanter over on the dining table she was supposed to be cleaning.

The crash was loud and immediately brought her to her senses. Unfortunately it also brought several of the other servants to investigate, and the master of the house. Melanie didn't see the onlookers as she was kneeling down attempting to pick up all the pieces. Suddenly she was hoisted bodily up from the floor and shaken. The master's hand was wrapped within the fabric of her dress and his strength was holding her aloft.

"How dare you!" he snarled at her, his face close to hers, "You will be severely punished for this!" He dragged her through the house, her feet barely touching the ground; the fabric of her dress was stretched very tightly across her breasts as the master continued to bunch it in his fist. He took her to the cellar door and thrust her inside. The cold from below wafted up the wooden stairs. He pushed her down into the dark.

As her feet touched the bare earthen floor the immediate shock wore off. She felt like she'd not taken a breath for hours, she gulped in the cold air, her chest heaving. The master had followed her and was lighting one of the oil lamps, it flickered and cast deep shadows across the empty space.

Melanie started to sob with fear. She'd heard stories of the master's punishments whispered amongst the other staff and these came back to her now, filling her imagination with all sorts of nightmarish thoughts. The master grabbed her dress once more, this time ripping it open. He roughly pulled her over to where a rope hung from an overhead beam. "Hands!" he shouted to her but she didn't understand what he meant.

"Your hands girl! Hold out your hands!"

She held her arms out, trembling. He grabbed them in one large hand and whipped the rope around her wrists before she could think. The rope was rough and very uncomfortable, it chaffed against her delicate skin, a dark feeling of terror rose up from the pit of her stomach as, unseen behind her, he pulled the rope lifting her arms high and leaving her standing almost on tip toe.

She started to cry, she couldn't help herself. Here she was, tied up and at the mercy of a man she feared, a man who could be capable of anything. She could see her breasts through the tear in her dress. As if he could read her thoughts he suddenly ripped the dress off her upper body, leaving her open and exposed. He stood there, looking at her, assessing the beautiful form he'd revealed, looking for flaws and finding none. A new look came into his eyes, one that Melanie disliked even more and hated herself for both recognising it and the tiny feeling of excitement that shivered through her body.

"You've been very naughty Melanie," he said, moving closer, "Very naughty. And I can't let that sort of behaviour go unpunished."

She shook her head gently in mute appeal. The master reached around her and undid the clasp in her hair; it tumbled down her back, its glorious colour shining in the lamp light. "Better, much better" he said.

The rope around her wrists was really hurting now, Melanie felt faint from the pain. "Please...?" she asked nervously, "Don't hurt me."

The master acted as if he hadn't heard her. He continued to admire the feast before his eyes, striding around her. He was now behind her. His rough hands grabbed the remains of her dress and pulled it down, revealing the rest of her body, her flawlessly smooth skin glowed in the lamp light, driving the master to new heights of lust.

She felt his hands on her behind, parting her cheeks; a finger ran down between them and continued between her thighs. She couldn't control the involuntary shiver. Whack!

"Stay still girl!" he roared as his hand smacked her hard again. "You will do what you're told and take your punishment!"

He continued to spank her, his hands hard against her soft flesh, each blow stinging and making her tense herself up ready for the next, the smarting pain sending shockwaves through her. Eventually he slowed down, she could no longer feel each individual blow, they merged into her heartbeat and pumped through her body like a bell tolling. A new sensation struck her, the master was now caressing the red flesh, kissing each glowing orb where only moments before he'd inflicted terrible pain on her. His lips felt so sweet upon her. Again she felt that finger run down and down and between her thighs, this time there was no shiver, she welcomed it, she was eager for whatever he wanted to do next to her. The finger reached further and started to caress her, gently rubbing her, a fingernail flicked her clitoris and she gasped.

"You like that? he said, "You'd like more?"

She nodded eagerly, whimpered to him, "Oh yes please master!"

He was pressed up tightly against her now; the pressure of him against her behind woke tiny slivers of pain on top of the receding waves. That questing hand reached further, started to slide inside her. She was wet and the feel of first one finger and then another in there made her gasp, he'd started a fire and was fanning the flames, she felt so incredibly hot. As those fingers explored deeper and deeper, rubbing and flicking and caressing, he laid a sharp slap on her left cheek. It was like an explosion inside her, she didn't know which way to thrust, her whole body felt like it was melting in the fire he'd created deep inside her, she squirmed against him, against the rope, against the pressure building up inside her. His fingers thrust into her now, his arm rubbed between her thighs, his other hand continued to rain blows upon her pertness as she felt something growing outward ready to engulf her, to swallow her up in an ecstasy of pleasure and pain.

When the explosion hit she cried out, she was stretched out on a warm sea with a desert sun beating down, alternately burning and being washed by waves of pure pleasure. As the feelings subsided slowly and she once more became aware of the rope and her position the master was in front of her, kissing her sweetly and embracing her, his strong arms enfolded around her naked beauty and making her feel safe. He untied the rope and she attempted to cover herself with the remains of her dress. Suddenly the thought of the young master crossed her mind but it had virtually no effect. He was only a boy but the master was a man and today, she was all woman and all his for the taking.

What's your fetish??

I am sure we all know what our fetishes are... I must admit mine is shoes....

The word fetish originally meant "charm," and it originates from the 15th century Portuguese word feitico , which means false power, object or charm. For example, when the Portuguese explored West Africa and encountered native religions, they called whatever talisman (totems, carvings, beads) they revered a fetish.

To the Portuguese in those days, the fetishists were those who worshiped the unusual. Later on, however, the implication of the word took on a whole different meaning.

First, a fetish involves the transfer of power from an original source onto a substitute. Second, a fetishist is someone who operates outside the circle of what is characteristically considered normal. Yeah right, what is normal nowadays?

Some commonly know fetishes are Podophilia (Feet), Leather & Rubber, Voyeurism, Anililagnia (an attraction to older women), Pygophhilia (butts) but there are some unusual fetishes that even I had to look up. Here they are.

Enjoy.

Formicophilia: The sexual desire to have insects crawl over one's body, particularly the genitals.  

Plushophilia: A sexual attraction to stuffed animals. Participants masturbate with plushie toys and/or dress up as the aforementioned toys to perform sex acts. Similarly related to "furries"; people who dress up as animals to perform sex acts.

(Ok, so not unheard of and Not that unusual).

Klismaphilia: The deriving of sexual pleasure via enema. (I would not want to be the proctologist on call when a klismaphiliac comes in. Would you have to buy them dinner first?).

Hybristophilia: A sexual attraction to someone who has performed a violent crime such as rape or murder. Also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome, for the famous hybristophiliac Bonnie Parker.

Trichophilia: The sexual attraction to hair, particularly to watching haircuts or hair washes. (This makes me very suspicious of my stylist all of a sudden).

Apotemnophilia: The sexual desire to have a healthy limb removed in order to become an amputee (not to be confused with the sexual attraction to amputees, Acrotomophilia). Some apotemnophiliacs will go so far as to injure a healthy limb in order to have it removed.

Balloons: There are two subsets of "Looners": "Poppers", who, obviously, get their jollies by popping the balloon, and "Non-poppers", who can’t even stand the thought of the balloon popping and instead get off on watching the balloon expand - There was actually a programme about this on TV not that long ago. there are in fact 3 levels to this fetish: A popper, a non popper and a semi popper!

How much is too much when it comes to tributing a Domme?

How much is too much when it comes to tributing a Domme? Recently I have found many many would be submissives attempt to negotiate tributes, reduce tributes and even out rightly denounce having to pay a tribute.

We understand that times are difficult for all, and I mean ALL - Including ProDommes. I would never try to haggle the price of a cab fair or a visit to the dentist - they are services I choose to use and therefore pay for the privilege. But it seems some would-be subs do not agree.

So, how much is too much? And what are submissives actually paying for?

Let's look at this from the perspective of a visit to the dentist. I value my oral health and wish to keep my own teeth for as long as possible. When it came to choosing a dentist, I did some research. I looked at qualifications, premises, reputation and, most of all, I vetted my dentist personally for his personality - how good was he at interacting with me, reassuring me and being honest about what I required during my visits and, lastly, price. Looking at those credentials, price came at the bottom of my list - as long as he understood me, had the correct qualifications, manner and personality - the price for finding a dentist I could trust, communicate with and feel safe in their hands was worth it.

If a woman was a cake

Gentlemen, come hither and allow me to explain a simple but very important point to you: unlike men, women do all their thinking with their brains. It’s a simple concept but one utterly alien to the vast majority of the male gender. Guys, knowing, remembering and using this fact will enable you to communicate much more successfully with the opposite sex. You need to engage their minds first and, maybe, their body will follow. Their minds are where it’s all happening.

I’m going to illustrate how this works with a simple analogy: women as cakes.

Chaps, what do you see when you see a cake in front of you? Do you immediately focus on the shiny, red cherry standing proudly upon the top while ignoring the rest? I expect you do. After all that cherry calls to where you do most of your thinking... It says eat me, right now. Do you not notice the bone china plate it rests on, the fondant icing so carefully applied and sculpted, the size and shape of the cake itself? No you did not. Go stand in the corner.

That cake is a whole world; from the way it’s presented, how much time and effort went into making it, the details of the recipe, the skill of the maker, the ingredients used in perfect proportions, the time it spent in the oven, cooking until it was just right and ready… The list goes on and on and all this before you even take a bite!

Introducing......TawnyTrickster GUEST WRITER

Currently not active, not looking, not interested, not here.

I do not do cam or Skype, there's a limit to how much the Internet can take.

I will not send you my used underwear, unless you're planning on sending it back freshly laundered.

Don't send me unsolicited messages containing your sexual fantasies. I've already got plenty of my own thanks.

I will not drop my trousers or be your Dom just because you ask. I'm not just a piece of meat, I'm a man, with feelings, respect them.

Some people get confused when they try to shoehorn a situation into reality and it doesn't fit. I bend reality to fit the situation. Although this does lead to a vast reduction in confusion it causes huge ripples in the space-time continuum. The upshot is I probably don't exist, at least most of the time. For example as you're reading this I'm a figment of your imagination and as such won't be able to interact with you in any way. How do you feel about that?