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2003-07-24

Just like a French Film (fascinating and odd)

I have a new toy, I can’t wait to use her... all buzzing and twisting and textured. So, you want to hear about my evening, do you? You want all of the dirty details, names, faces, places? You may be disappointed. Though it was fun and fantastic in many ways, yester eve hardly raises the needle on my dirty scale. That won’t stop me from telling you about it, of course.

We met at an isolated resort hotel by the water. The evening was organized by Jenn , a lovely young lady who brings toys and sexual liberation to sheltered women. A few lovely friends of mine met us at the hotel bar, where we briefed them on what to expect. I shared the story of my first experience with a cross-dresser into “sissification.” Have I told you that one? He scrubbed my carpets and I did horrible, nasty things to him after I taught him how to walk and smoke like a slut, but then I abruptly kicked him out before he could cum because he had the audacity to show up at my place 10 minutes late? Remember that? I don’t have the energy to go into much more detail about it, and it was so many years ago... ANYWAY, I shared the story and we were off to the room to greet the “dominatrix” and her “slave.”

Walking into the room, we met a surprise guest, a much older transvestite, and the other two, whom we were expecting to meet. I’m still not sure whether the transvestite was brought by the slave or the dom, and without an explanation from anyone, she provided an interesting curiosity to an already mysterious scenario. Chris was dressed in a white, button-down shirt and pressed black slacks. The room was set up with chilled wine, gourmet pizzas, veggies, cheese, fruit, & chocolates, and the air buzzed with anticipation.

I’m not going to bore you with all of the little details. Jenn gave her spiel, proved her knowledge of things sexy, while Chris changed into a little French Maid outfit and red, patent leather heels. Now, here’s where things get peculiar – this dom did not act like a dom, and this “slave,” did NOT respond as slaves usually do. I can only assume they’re both fairly green, and this was evident in the hesitancy and reticence with which everything was said or done by each of them. It wasn’t “Maid, rub her feet,” it was, “Does anyone want a foot-rub... anyone? Come on, someone has to want one.” This left an awkward silence and too much onus on the guests of the party. I took it upon myself to order him about, but he seemed to move with molasses in his ass, slow and unsure. Not a good slave at all, but someone I have neither the interest, time, or energy to train. Anyway, I have the feeling he wouldn’t enjoy being trained. This was his money, it was on his terms, and that’s another thing I have no interest in – other people’s terms.

Overall, the evening was fun, I got a wonderful new toy, and the treats were divine. The clincher, though, what made it clear to me that this lovely young woman was as green as a leprechaun’s ass -- the pudding in which the proof swam and dunked itself was in the simple exchange I had with the “dominatrix” before leaving for the evening:

Me - “Thank you so much for everything, Sar- What do you like to be called?”

Her - “Hmm? Called? Gee, I don’t know.”

Me - “You don’t have a PREFERENCE? Mistress, Domina, anything ? My slave calls me Mistress, the Barbarella is assumed. Friends call me Barbarella, and new acquaintances in the scene are to call me Mistress Barbarella, with no exceptions.

Her - “Well, I was Mistress Xara where I worked before, but now, I dunno, I guess “Mistress” is okay.”

Me - “I’ll call you Sara, then.”

Her - “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Me - “Thank you, Sara, for a fun evening. And you, maid, it was nice to meet you, enjoy yourself here, as I’m sure you will.”

I went to M.s.’s, and told him of my evening. In a proud voice, he said, “You would be such a great dominatrix,” and I corrected him. “No, dear. I AM a great dominatrix. But you’re right, I would make a wonderful Pro. Too bad I prefer to call the shots. You’re the best slave ever.” He told me about the hypnosis workshop he attended while I was playing with toys and analyzing people in a hotel room. Somewhere in there, I fell asleep, and I’m sure my pleasant dreams involved my new toy and my wonderful boy.

-Barbarella

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2007-05-19
NEW SITE!!!!

2007-05-16
Links and Update

2007-05-09
Two Links

2007-05-06
Yes, Even MORE new pictures

2007-05-06
Mizz Asshole

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Just like a French Film (fascinating and odd) 2003-07-24 10:08 a.m. I have a new toy, I can’t wait to use her... all buzzing and twisting and textured. So, you want to hear about my evening, do you? You want all of the dirty details, names, faces, places? You may be disappointed. Though it was fun and fantastic in many ways, yester eve hardly raises the needle on my dirty scale. That won’t stop me from telling you about it, of course.

We met at an isolated resort hotel by the water. The evening was organized by Jenn , a lovely young lady who brings toys and sexual liberation to sheltered women. A few lovely friends of mine met us at the hotel bar, where we briefed them on what to expect. I shared the story of my first experience with a cross-dresser into “sissification.” Have I told you that one? He scrubbed my carpets and I did horrible, nasty things to him after I taught him how to walk and smoke like a slut, but then I abruptly kicked him out before he could cum because he had the audacity to show up at my place 10 minutes late? Remember that? I don’t have the energy to go into much more detail about it, and it was so many years ago... ANYWAY, I shared the story and we were off to the room to greet the “dominatrix” and her “slave.”

Walking into the room, we met a surprise guest, a much older transvestite, and the other two, whom we were expecting to meet. I’m still not sure whether the transvestite was brought by the slave or the dom, and without an explanation from anyone, she provided an interesting curiosity to an already mysterious scenario. Chris was dressed in a white, button-down shirt and pressed black slacks. The room was set up with chilled wine, gourmet pizzas, veggies, cheese, fruit, & chocolates, and the air buzzed with anticipation.

I’m not going to bore you with all of the little details. Jenn gave her spiel, proved her knowledge of things sexy, while Chris changed into a little French Maid outfit and red, patent leather heels. Now, here’s where things get peculiar – this dom did not act like a dom, and this “slave,” did NOT respond as slaves usually do. I can only assume they’re both fairly green, and this was evident in the hesitancy and reticence with which everything was said or done by each of them. It wasn’t “Maid, rub her feet,” it was, “Does anyone want a foot-rub... anyone? Come on, someone has to want one.” This left an awkward silence and too much onus on the guests of the party. I took it upon myself to order him about, but he seemed to move with molasses in his ass, slow and unsure. Not a good slave at all, but someone I have neither the interest, time, or energy to train. Anyway, I have the feeling he wouldn’t enjoy being trained. This was his money, it was on his terms, and that’s another thing I have no interest in – other people’s terms.

Overall, the evening was fun, I got a wonderful new toy, and the treats were divine. The clincher, though, what made it clear to me that this lovely young woman was as green as a leprechaun’s ass -- the pudding in which the proof swam and dunked itself was in the simple exchange I had with the “dominatrix” before leaving for the evening:

Me - “Thank you so much for everything, Sar- What do you like to be called?”

Her - “Hmm? Called? Gee, I don’t know.”

Me - “You don’t have a PREFERENCE? Mistress, Domina, anything ? My slave calls me Mistress, the Barbarella is assumed. Friends call me Barbarella, and new acquaintances in the scene are to call me Mistress Barbarella, with no exceptions.

Her - “Well, I was Mistress Xara where I worked before, but now, I dunno, I guess “Mistress” is okay.”

Me - “I’ll call you Sara, then.”

Her - “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Me - “Thank you, Sara, for a fun evening. And you, maid, it was nice to meet you, enjoy yourself here, as I’m sure you will.”

I went to M.s.’s, and told him of my evening. In a proud voice, he said, “You would be such a great dominatrix,” and I corrected him. “No, dear. I AM a great dominatrix. But you’re right, I would make a wonderful Pro. Too bad I prefer to call the shots. You’re the best slave ever.” He told me about the hypnosis workshop he attended while I was playing with toys and analyzing people in a hotel room. Somewhere in there, I fell asleep, and I’m sure my pleasant dreams involved my new toy and my wonderful boy.