for your Smoking Pleasure

I’ve been told I should stop smoking, but have never had even the slightest desire to stop smoking. There’s something so delicious about the act of slowly removing a crisp, tight cylinder from its pack, rolling it between My fingers, allowing one of My peons the privilege of lighting Me up, and then inhaling that first, long, beautiful drag.

Last month at a lovely yacht party, the host offered Me an electric cigarette (or ecigarette). I’d tried them before and said, “thanks, but. No, thanks.” He insisted, however, and I’m very glad he did. It was fabulous! So I allowed him to give me several boxes. Now all of My girls and fucktards smoke nothing else.

They’re quite wonderful. I’d always found flavored cigarettes grotesque, but the vanilla, chocolate, and coffee cartridges are as good as if not better than the tobacco flavor. And, truth be told, I do feel much better now that I haven’t smoked tobacco in almost a month. I quit smoking cigarettes without having to quit smoking cigarettes! And must admit it’s also nice not to smell or taste like cigarettes, as well. Had I not found these electric cigarettes, I never would have known I didn’t like smoking as much as I thought I did…

Finding a phenomenal ecigarette was a blessing, most of all, because I’d recently discovered that Natural American Spirit sold out to R.J. Reynolds, and I couldn’t bear to give them another penny. I suggest everyone follow suit, as all cigarette companies deserve to bite the dust. Smoking electric cigarettes is also a much less expensive habit, so the ‘tards have more money to buy Me gifts (and they tell Me the ball-gags taste sweeter).

No second-hand smoke, no tar, no carcinogens, no fire hazard, no lighters required, and ecigarettes may be “smoked” anywhere. Buy now! We are donating all of our commissions to a local animal-rescue shelter.

They Know Me Too Well

One of My charmingly obsequious pets presented Me with this lovely reminder to himself. I don’t normally wear t-shirts, but couldn’t resist donning this one during our last pied-à-tête.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he also came bearing a silver chess set, and that he’s never so gauche as to arrive empty-handed. I do like that in a man…

Everything Must Go!

A shrewd and adept Dominatrix knows exactly when and where to apply the most delightfully excruciating pain. The fun almost always begins when he makes the mistake of opening his fucking mouth and I’m forced to slap the shit out of him. But do they ever learn? Apparently not.

Gag them, bind them, cane them, or even electrocute them, they’ll still beg to be fucked like the gaping, submissive holes they are. Is it any wonder few things are more pleasing than the sight of tortured, swollen balls and painfully purple pricks? I’ve always believed men wouldn’t be such pathetic losers if they weren’t, well — men! Unfortunately, we can’t all be magnificent and female…

Girls...girls...you're both pretty!

Went to another match, last week, and it was titillating. Just look at those gorgeous things, tearing each other’s hair out.

The best part is — winner fucks the loser! That way, I always win. Love a woman who knows her way around a monster strap-on. The tag teams are even more exciting…

Extreme Punishment Bench

Today was the proverbial Christmas in July! Yet another gift from yet another weasel.

I have a custom-made extreme punishment bench in My dungeon, but it’s hardly “portable.” This bench is not only very well made, but subs can be easily trained to take it apart and re-assemble it, whenever necessary.

The steel cuffs and collar are the answer to every woman’s prayers. Once locked in, our sniveling males will find it impossible to escape — nor even rock from side to side!

If only there was an extreme punishment bench in every room of every building on earth. The world would be a much better place.

The locking anal pounder is lovely, too, and the enema-bag holder is so handy! I’m sure they work perfectly, though I haven’t yet used them. As soon as it was assembled, someone started his time-out. I’ll give him another hour or two to wonder what’s going to happen next…

Dominatrix Ballet Shoes

These classic Dominatrix ballet shoes have a 7″ spiked heel and they are fabulous!

I received them as a gift this afternoon from one of My little weasels (he’s been a very bad boy of late, and I was thinking of kicking his ass to the curb with a pair of steel-toed boots).

They take some getting used to, but I spent more time lounging in them than I did walking. Trampling will require even more practice, but they leave such a lovely mark.

While wearing them, it’s much easier to crush a penis while simultaneously skewering the balls, too, and therefore I shall be so adorned, often.

I have already told this particular weasel that he is allowed to buy Me a back-up pair — and he has been ordered to get a pair for himself. This is going to be fun. I adore being 6′5″. The view is most enjoyable.

Girls, Girls -- You're Both Pretty!

Watching men fight makes Me wish they would just kill each other and get it over with, but there’s something terribly erotic about women going a few rounds.

Pillow fights are for girls, wrestling is for women. Strap-ons are for winners to fuck losers. Which makes for a win-win situation, does it not? I knew you’d agree.

BDSM sexual wrestling is a highly competitive sport, and unlike the sham that is the WWF, this is real and unscripted. I would pay good money to see Hulk Hogan fucked by Rowdy Roddy Piper wearing a kilt and a monster strap-on, but as a general rule, I much prefer watching beautiful women in combat.

These Boots Are Made for Trampling

I love boots, and must own at least a hundred pair. Most of them have spiked heels, many are latex or patent leather. One should never underestimate the power of toe-to-balls communication, and they are My favorite trampling accessory.

Being 5′10″ in stocking feet does have its advantages. Being 6′3″ in heels is exhilarating. I have always felt most comfortable walking the line between pleasure and pain. Especially when that line is drawn down your backside.

Would it surprise you to learn that My most dedicated and loyal fans are cops and lawyers? They’re such pussies when “the system” isn’t there to protect them. But a good Mistress is never without a collection of ball-gags [because the sound of sissies shrieking is so very annoying (and affects My concentration)]…

Smoking in the Dungeon

There’s nothing like a good smoke before, during, and after chaining you to My wall of shame. A cigarette lasts longer than your composure, and tastes better than fear smells.

Humiliating you is almost too easy. That tiny dick shrivels and your testicles retreat as you wonder what I might have planned.

It’s the not knowing which causes your heart to race, isn’t it. I enjoy the suspense, and lingering over a smoke, or two. Or three.

Will you be one of those sissies who wets himself before the real fun even begins? It wouldn’t surprise Me. Only your deluded mother would believe you “a man.” The rest of us have been laughing at you since kindergarten. Trust Me. Second-hand smoke is the least of your worries, My pet.

The Best Way to Protect Wood Floors

After having My wood floors refinished, I do not like to walk on them in heels without using proper protection.

The only problem is that slaves have been known to lose focus and bladder control during this process, which is both annoying — and costly!

One must make them pay for such egregious lapses financially, and in ways they never dreamed. I enjoy introducing the element of surprise, and for the undisciplined slave too much pain is never enough.

I do allow safe words, but My hearing isn’t always what it should be, n’est-ce pas? It would be best if slaves learned to control themselves before earning My wrath, but apparently that’s asking too much of them. What would these worthless males do were it not for My forgiving nature?