Justified.

Jet black furniture contrasted the crisp white dungeon walls. This was different, not our normal space. Lighter and colder, my two least favourite things, but still, it was a welcome change of scenery.

He stood before me with his eyes wandering around the room. I have always admired his curiosity and willingness to explore. When I had entered, I had given the space nothing more than a quick glance. ‘Spanking bench, spanking stool, St Andrews cross, table with cleaning products’, The efficient recognition of where everything was situated within the space along with their function so that I could immediately start plotting what I could, and inevitably would, do to him.

His sable shirt was slightly open at the neck and showing off the steel chainmail collar which states he is mine. I know it is always there, but noticing it made me smile. His gaze immediately shifted towards me and he took in a deep, shaky breath as I began to close the distance between us. Holding the slightly crooked smile on my lips only seemed to make him nervous. A good effect in my opinion.

One by one, keeping eye contact all the while, I slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slid it from his shoulders to let it fall loosely to the floor. He shuddered slightly as I gently brushed over the line of his collar with a claw and followed down to do the same to one of his nipples.

Having Scottish roots flowing through my veins, I have found the kilt to be something distinctly masculine. Tonight he was wearing one, deliciously  so, for me. His arousal was evident through its folds, I could smell his scent in the air and it made me all the more eager to play. A soft, hungry growl passed my lips as I pulled him by his neck jewelry towards the St Andrews cross and began to fasten him in with his back towards me.

The dungeon door opened and a head popped inside to have a look around. A distinct reminder that we were playing in a public place. A bearing of teeth and a growl being a quick assurance to the visitor that I did not wish for prying eyes. The head disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and I walked over to the door to gently push it shut once more. I picked up my cane (Sasha) and took in a deep breath to quell the annoyance of being interrupted before returning to where he was now secured.

His nerves had kicked in and he was trembling. Gently tracing his spine with the tip of my cane only seemed to heighten his fear. I was relishing every moment.

“Why do you fear so? Is it because we are in a public place?” I asked in as soft a voice I could collect with the violent thoughts running through my head.

“We have played in public places before, Mistress” He said as his leg started to twitch with nerves. “I do not fear eyes on us”

“Then perhaps it is Sasha you fear?” I asked as I gently slid the cane up the inside of his leg to the crotch, lifting the kilt enough to reveal a little of the tempting soft rump underneath.

Sasha is only a tool, Mistress” He said through shaky breaths and shudders.

“You tremble, your nerves betray you and I can smell your scent on the breeze. You are oozing fear! I taste and enjoy every drop. But if it is none of the above, what is it?” My voice had broke its gentle tone. I could no longer steady it. The hunger was taking over, my sadistic nature getting the better of it and my own breaths were becoming fast and impassioned because of it.

“I no longer fear you, Mistress, because I trust you completely and I do not fear Sasha because she is just a tool. The only time I truly feel fear is when you are both together and Sasha is in your hand.”

A grin slowly formed on my lips and a whoosh cut through the air as I quickly drew the cane backwards and away from his body. He jumped slightly at the sound and I slowly raised his kilt with my free hand to expose the soft backside flesh that had been teasing me, I held Sasha back a few moments for effect.

“Your fear is justified” I said as the air was cut and the first impact of the evening made his body arch in a visually orgasmic fashion.

A Velvet Thought – Mistresses Musings: FAQ

Every day I receive phone calls, emails and messages asking me countless questions that all have a single and very simple answer.

Examples:

———————————————————————————————————————————————–

Q. How much does it cost to have a professional play session?
A. Read my blog:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/booking-and-sessions/

Q. What kind of things do you get up to in your dungeon?
A. Read my blog:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/booking-and-sessions/
or
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/short-stories/

Q. What is the minimum amount of time I can have for a play session?
A. Just read my blog:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/booking-and-sessions/

Q. What kind of fetishes are you skilled in? Can you do…(insert selected fetish/kink here)
A. For crying out loud! Read my blog!:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/booking-and-sessions/

Q. Can you teach me how to…(insert selected skill here)
A. Read. My. Blog:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/2012/08/18/so-you-want-to-be-a-professional-dominatrix/

Q. What do you look like? Could I have a description of you?
A. How did you even manage to get my phone number or email if you had not visited my website or one of my numerous online profiles? All of which have galleries, just like here, ON MY BLOG!:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/gallery/

Q. What do you mean when you call people ‘mundane’?
A. Mundane, in my case, often refers to the vanilla or boring. However, I am considering expanding it to include people who do not read my blog:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/2012/05/20/mistresses-meanings/

Q. Do you have a webcam? / Do you do online domination?
A. What is it that is not being understood?:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/2012/04/19/this-is-not-a-fallacy-i-am-online/

Q. Are you looking for a full time submissive?
A. Take your pick of blog posts:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/2012/03/16/procuring-perminance/
or
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/2012/10/11/introductions-benjamin/

Q. When and where is your next public event?
A. READ THE DAMN BLOG!:
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/2012/09/26/wheres-mistress/
or
https://aemiliahawk.wordpress.com/events/

———————————————————————————————————————————————–

This blog post is, of course, completely superfluous as it will probably not be read by any of the ignoramuses who continue to ask these kinds of questions.

People need to make at least a little effort.

No Champagne.

Written by Benjamin.
Edited by Aemilia Hawk.

A story about one of our play sessions that my Benjamin has been asking me to write for some time. However, lately I have not been in the mood to write short stories. So, I told him to write up the story from his perspective and that I would publish it on the blog after adding to it and editing it.

Enjoy.

It was a Tuesday evening and I made my way to the dungeon for the usual session with my Mistress. I thought it would just be a regular session. I was wrong.

On arriving at the house doorway, I paused slightly in the entryway before ringing the bell. It is very similar to visiting the dentist. There is a clean smell but at the same time, an unnerving sense. Once you step beyond the barred metal door, you give up all rights and you are at the whim of the Mistress to do as she pleases.

I rang the doorbell and waited for the clicking sound of heels which I normally hear as Mistress approaches the door to let me inside. I waited and I listened. I heard no sound this time.

Suddenly the door opened. It was the house slave.

“Good evening, the Mistress is expecting you and is awaiting your arrival upstairs.” he said with a welcoming smile.

I glanced at my watch to double check that I had arrived on time. I was a few minutes early.

“Is everything alright?” I asked as I stepped through to the hallway.

“Everything is fine, the Mistress is waiting for you in the purple room tonight, she demanded that you be sent up as soon as you arrived. Enjoy your evening.”

As I made my way up the thin staircase, I could see the dull glow from the dungeons candles seeping through the curtain door and as I entered, the first thing I saw is Mistress sitting on her Iron throne, smoking a cigarette and looking quite relaxed.

I try my hardest not to show any nerves. She always says that she can smell fear. So far she has never been wrong. But I manage to greet her as normal. There was a short silence as I waited for her reply. The tone of her voice can usually give away some clues as to how heavy the evenings play will be, but this time the words were soft and sensual.

“Come here.”

I approached slowly to stand in front of her and I offered her my usual gift which she accepted gracefully. There was a certain glint in her eye as she placed the gift to one side and in a single word told me to undress.

My nerves kicked in again. Normally I am undressed by the time she enters the dungeon but I turned away and begin to do as I was told.

“Face me. I wish to watch.”

With her watchful gaze upon me, I returned to face her and begin to take off my clothes piece by piece to place neatly in the corner. She smiled as I removed the last item and then gestured to the floor in front of where she sat. A signal of her wish to have me kneel at her feet.

After a few peaceful moments of sensation, Mistress running her claws through my hair and behind my ears, she leaned forward and whispered for me to stand in front of the slanted post, which I did immediately. She followed, but slowly. Standing from her throne and making sure every click of her heel could be savored as she walked towards me.

Normally just my hands and feet are secured, but this time she also secured my waist and made sure my movement would be limited.

“I want you fully secure tonight” She said in her voice like silk. “You will understand why in a few moments.”

I took in a deep breath and tried to think of something to say. I decided that it is probably best to say nothing at all.

Once secure, Mistress walked slowly towards the door, pausing only briefly to turn and smile at me before disappearing out. She returned a minute later carrying a large black box with silver accents. There was no mistaking her vintage violet wand (Angele) which she placed directly next to me on a waist height spanking stool.

My trepidation built as she took her time connecting all of the leads into the machine along with the body contact pad attachment. Then slowly lifting one side of her Steampunk skirt to reveal her left stocking top, she sensually slid the pad inside. For me this was breathtaking to watch, but unexpectedly she then lifted the other side of her ruffled skirt to reveal a small dagger tucked inside the top of her other stocking.

The dagger was tenderly removed and Mistress stood for a few moments before me, watching my expressions intently and caressing the blade tip with her claws. When she is not pressured for time, she likes to take her time, which can be all the more unnerving.

Eventually, she turned to one side and switched on Angele. The machine is not like a modern violet wand which would hum and whirr, Angele rumbles and growls, and had now electrified both my Mistress and the dagger in her hand.

Mistress returned her gaze and looked at me with such tenderness that I became oblivious to what she was about to do. The look in her eyes was one of content and pure confidence as she leaned in close to press the dagger against my chest and hold it still against the skin.

The initial shock of cold steel upon the skin outweighed the electrical discharge. As long as the dagger was pressed firmly and not moved, the electricity would not be felt.

“Now you see why I want you secure” she said softly as her body leaned in close for a few moments to press against mine.

And then it happened; she quickly stepped back and drew the dagger in a diagonal line across the bare of my chest. With the electricity running through it, it had the same sensation as if the knife was burning through the flesh and cutting deeply. A red line appeared in its wake, tracing the daggers branding and you could smell the scent of burning flesh.

Mistress paused and held the knife still, stopping the pain. She then leaned in close, again to press her body against mine before tracing the line she had just drawn across my chest with a claw. She deeply inhaled the scent in the air and a grin of utter pleasure formed on her lips.

“No Champagne” She said in that deceptive soft tone and referring to our normal safe word, revoking the privilege.

So, I took in a deep breath, closed my eyes and tried my best to find my sub space.

A Velvet Thought – Mistresses Musings: “Demandez, et l’on vous donnera.”

Translation: “Ask, and you shall receive.” (probably)

Anyone who actually takes the time to get to know me a little will probably tell you that I am far from prudish, that I am outgoing, that I am open minded and that I have a relatively pleasant demeanor despite being quite eccentric (I do try to quell most of my instincts when in polite society).

Once you get past the evil aura, teeth, claws, demonic nature, unholy eating habits, disgust of the mundane, and other small, often unnoticeable abominable characteristics; I am actually not so bad.

My point is: I am not adverse to hosting workshops or demos at events, I am not adverse to performing on stage, I am not adverse to doing fun BDSM/fetish orientated things for “good” causes or venues and I am definitely not adverse to giving play demonstrations or play tips to people who meet me and make an effort to talk/chat to me at events (just remember that I am often there with my own submissive and partner or for my own reasons, so do not believe this is an invitation to take up my entire evening). Indeed, I have done all of these things and more/others in the past.

There is simply a small price: You must swallow your fear or aversions, approach me, make an effort to talk to me and request it.

If you do not ask, if you do not make your hopes known to me, you will have no chance at all; because I will rarely, if ever, volunteer.

Kinbaku and Shibari: Private tuition with Esinem and Nina Russ – 14/10/12

From the 12th October -14th October, Benjamin and I spent the weekend in London under the tuition of the Shibari and Kinbaku professionals : Esinem and Nina Russ.

Rope play has always been an interest of mine (unfortunately, having claws can make it difficult to master effectively; ergo, I have never done advanced courses), but when Benjamin was introduced to images and movies of it, he fell in love with the artform and expressed a huge desire to learn it. I, in turn, have nurtured this desire (as well as offering to be his practice model) and after several months of play, practice and research, higher learning for him was inevitably required.

When it comes to any form of bondage, especially rope bondage, safety and knowledge is paramount. I highly recommend that it is not attempted without at least being taught the basics, either by research using the internet or books, or by attaining the services of an experienced teacher. There are many aspects to take note of during this kind of play; including asphyxiation and nerve damage. Do not be an idiot; Play safely.

To this end we contacted Esinem for his offer on residential private tuition and made plans to visit him at his home and studio in London for an intensive training course to further our learning.

After copious hours of practice and training with both Esinem and Nina Russ (living and breathing rope bondage for three days), I personally have developed a great respect for the rope bondage models that you see in all the images across the internet. I make it a personal rule to experience anything that I intend to put anyone else through (this is true for all forms of BDSM play that I practice). This kind of bondage can be incredibly painful (especially rope suspension). For me, the weekend was a significant learning experience which tested my endurance and stamina to great lengths. For Benjamin; well, let us just say he has returned from the experience with a slightly frazzled brain from taking in so much information, sore fingers from extensive use of the rope and a significantly vaster knowledge of the artform (as well as his own set of Asanawa Tossa Lite 6mm Jute ropes, a birthday present from me and my partner).

We do plan on having further private tuition with Esinem and Nina in the near future, but we must first put what we have learned over this last weekend into frequent practice. This kind of skill takes a great amount of time and dedication.

Thanks to the wonderful Nina Russ, I also experienced full rope suspension. Another thing which I do not recommend unless in the hands of an experienced and well practiced individual. To quote Esinem’s website:

“As safety is a prime concern, please be aware that, like so many good things in life, there is always possibility of accidental injury. Rope suspension is undoubtedly edge play and should only be undertaken by those who are physically and mentally up to the challenge. Suspension is safe but not without risk, regardless of proficiency or experience, so is definitely RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) rather than entirely SSC (Safe Sane and Consensual). The more extreme suspensions require a high degree of fitness and often a reasonable pain threshold, so don’t imagine everyone can do what professional models make look easy!”

Luckily, I was physically and mentally adequate, however, as I mentioned earlier in this blog post, the whole weekend experience (full suspension, partial suspension and constant floor practice) has given me a profound respect for rope bondage models. It is definitely not easy.

Despite the aches and pains that I was suffering by the end of the weekend and despite the fact that I am not naturally submissive, I could not resist the chance to be tied up and partially suspended by the man himself.

Enjoy the photos.

 

All photography is unedited.

Photos courtesy of Esinem and Nina Russ.
Photography by Nina Russ.
All images are Copyright © 2012 AemiliaHawk. All Rights Reserved.

Where’s Mistress?

After 2 event cancellations this month (Including the event where Kabunza was meant to host a trade stand) and the addition of a request for hosting a workshop on flogging at another event, I have decided that it would be significantly easier to have a page here on my blog in which to list all the up-and-coming events, shows and venues which I plan on attending.

This way, I can update the page periodically instead of bombarding my blog with multiple posts on where and when people can meet up with me (and possibly request a play) in an environment outside the dungeons.

You can see the new events page by clicking on the link tab at the very top of my blog (just above the main title) or you can click: Here.

Alternatively, you can see most events that I plan to attend on my fetlife profile.

I do plan on updating the new page on a very regular basis. As soon as a new event is decided upon, it will be instantly added to my list through iPhone updating.

Ahh, the wonders of technology.

A Velvet Thought – Mistresses Musings: What is the difference?

Recently I was asked what the difference is between a professional Dominatrix and a lifestyle Dominatrix. I thought my reply was worth posting to blog and I have thrown financial Domination in the mix as well because this has also been asked of me in the past:

A financial Dominatrix has no skill in any of the BDSM arts. They are not a true Mistress, they simply pose as one. It is unlikely you will meet them anywhere apart from online. All they will do is demand that you give them money or pay their bills. They demand cash in exchange for nothing (aside from possible verbal abuse or online humiliation).
These people tend to give professional Domination a bad name because many people fail to differentiate between financial and professional Domination as there are quite a few professional Dominants who practice financial Domination.
I personally loath this practice. In my opinion they are on a par with beggars or ‘spongers’. I believe that money given should be money earned and I class financial Dominants as lower than pond scum on the evolutionary ladder.

A professional Dominatrix is basically one who plays in a dungeon with a paying client. The client has a fetish, kink or BDSM fantasy and would like to act it out. It is a form of drama therapy and while it may be erotic or sensual, there is never any sex ( if sex is involved then they are a prostitute, not a Dominatrix).
The majority of professional Dominatrices have a normal life when they leave the dungeon (When I say majority, I can only comment on my own experiences and acquaintances. Around 90% of all I have met. And when I say normal, I mean of course a vanilla existence). They do not spend a large portion of their life studying BDSM practices. They have a very basic knowledge of the equipment, normally what they have been told by friends, played with in the bedroom, have seen on TV or what they may have had shown to them by other Mistresses or submissives at their dungeon of residence. This level of skill coupled with common sense and safety is often enough to deal with a large portion of paying clients. Most clients have a very generalised fetish (often something they have seen on television or on the internet) which tend to be very simple to do. They do not often attend BDSM events or clubs because they consider the play their job and there is no profit in attending such places.
I must stress that this opinion is based solely on the professional Dominants that I have met. The other 10% tend to be incredibly skilled because they are usually both lifestyle as well as professional. The key is, of course, noticing this before passing judgement simply on their choice of profession. The lifestyle professionals tend to do it for a living because they love BDSM so much.

A lifestyler (or lifestyle Dominatrix, if you prefer) is one who does it because they love it. It is part of their everyday life. They often go to great lengths to get high quality or specialised equipment (I rarely use the equipment on show in the dungeon as I prefer my own) and they spend a great deal of time learning the skills involved in their chosen BDSM activities. They tend to attend the events, clubs and venues because it is their passion and not simply a job.

Essentially it comes down to this: Give a financial Dominatrix a flogger and she will demand money from you to have the privilege of passing it to her hand (and she will have no clue as to how to use it or have any inclination to do so. Of course, this is if you actually manage to meet them in the flesh), give a professional Dominatrix a flogger and (9 times out of 10) she will show you how to hit someone with it for money, give a lifestyle Dominatrix a flogger (preferably someone that has a few years experience) and she will show you how to make it dance.

There is a lot of information on the internet about the differences. These are of course just my own observations and opinions. I am forever hoping to have these opinions improved upon, but this is how they stand to date.

I am both lifestyle and professional. I am of the minority. I do this for a living next to my small business (even my small business is BDSM orientated) and it has been my passion and a major part of my life for almost 10 years.

Constructive opinions appreciated if anyone would care to give their own interpretations. Is my opinion flawed?

Feeling the eyes.

Whump, whump, whump, whump.

Time tends to slow down when you are in the moment. Everything seems to be in high definition and the only things that matter are the sensations. The sound and wind created by the dual floggers cutting through the air, the scent of sweat and leather, the feel of every impact sending vibrations through the body and the burn that penetrates every muscle from the exertion.

You can feel the eyes on you. The excitement in the air is like a drug. Addictive for an extrovert like myself.

With the beat of the music pumping through the club and influencing motion and impact, it swiftly turns into a dance. Erotic and sensual. This in turn attracts more eyes and the play becomes heavier. More visual. A performance to feed the spectators who are in turn feeding the extroverted desires.

By this point, the only way to stop the cycle is for the music to end. I am having too much fun.

Whump, whump, whump, whump.

With his arms raised and restrained to a Shibari ring that dangled from the ceiling, his back and shoulders are taking the majority of the beatings. Florentine style to be exact. Rash reddened and sore, he will bruise. But he too is being emotionally fed. Everyone is.

He raises his index fingers to the sky. Our prearranged signal that I am pushing beyond his threshold. I am oblivious to it. I know him and what he can take. The music had not stopped yet. He could endure. He ‘would’ endure. Limits are always best when at their extremities.

Now the thuds are louder than the music.

Whump… whump… whump… whump…

As the beat slows, so do the impacts. Breath is heavy. Sweat sheens the skin. The heat is comfortably uncomfortable as the world around phases back.

And then the music ends. I twirl the floggers to untangle them before clipping them to my waist. A spinning motion like a carousel. An elegant way to end. Aesthetically pleasing.

With a sure foot and gentle hip sway, I close the distance towards him to inspect the damage more closely. The skin looks tender. Tempting. Inviting. I gently run my claws down his neck and back. He shivers and groans at the sensation. A perfect finale.

With a short motion, I unclip his wrists and he slumps forward slightly. Drained. He turns, rests his head on my breast and I gently stroke the back of his neck. He had taken more punishment than originally intended. He deserved my gentler touch and aftercare. He had done exceedingly well.

Nothing needed to be said. Actions always speak far louder than any word. He attentively kissed my cheek. A “thank you”.

After a cigarette and a drink, maybe we would go at it again with a new song.

I do so love an audience.

A steady hand.

The sound was like running a wet finger over the rim of a crystal wine glass. A steady, single toned hum cutting through the dungeons background music. A Bakes Rosebud Dilator being stroked up the shaft with a moist disinfectant towel. I have come to appreciate the soft echos they make.

I am always meticulous about hygiene, but when it comes to urethral sounding, I am overly cautious. A single speck of dust can cause infection to set in. Every sounding rod is cleaned thoroughly before and after use. It has become a ritual and part of the play. It aroused him every time. There is something incredibly erotic about being chained to a wall while a scantily clad dominant woman strokes phallic shaped metal rods in front of you. He was erect and eager, watching me slowly clean my toys and waiting with anticipation.

“Number 5 and number 6 Bakes, 7/8mm Hegar, Vibrating UD, Wartenberg wheel”, my thoughts while adhering to the ritual sounded oddly mathematic and the medical instruments being laid out neatly on the small, tissue clothed spanking stool next to where he was restrained made it look like I was preparing to operate on his vital organ. I was taking my time and could smell the trepidation building within him, but the look on my face remained peaceful and serene, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

I gently placed the last of my cleaned tools onto the stool and lined it up neatly with the rest. I was ready to begin.

Turning sharply towards him and grabbing his manhood roughly, I leaned in close to his face with my teeth on show. He inhaled deeply and his body went taut as my claws gently prickled his sensitive skin.

“Mine” I growled through a clenched jaw as I tightened my grip.

His voice broke and shuddered as he nervously released the air in his lungs. “Y-yes Mistress”

Keeping eye contact, I gentled my grip and slid my hand up towards his tip, my fingers cradling the meatus of his penis while my other hand grabbed the 7mm Hegar from the makeshift medical table. His arousal was evident and was oozing pre-ejaculate.

I slid the 7mm Hegar sounding rod into his urethra. After months of practice my hand was expert and precise, I no longer needed my eyes to see what I was doing, I simply felt my way along the tract and his natural fluids supplied the lubricant. A slight twist at the bend of the rod and within seconds it was inside at the full length. His eyes widened at having been penetrated so forcefully, surgically and swiftly. His attempts to lean forward were dulled by the restraints and my relaxed facial expression turned to one of smiling pleasure as I held the rod steady and watched him finally give that shaky exhale that I have grown to expect and enjoy whenever something impacts his system.

The first rod is always the simplest. Easy, quick, pleasurably shocking and it stretches the ducts slightly for more complex play later.  His clear liquid oozed through my fingertips as I held the rod in place and with my unsullied hand I lovingly ran my claws through the hair behind his ear.

It was going to be a long and very pleasurable evening.

And I was just getting started.

Hegar Urethral sounds

Bakes Rosebud Urethral Sounds

8mm Vibrating Urethral Dilator (VUD)

Wartenberg Pin Wheels

All images are Copyright © 2012 AemiliaHawk. All Rights Reserved.