January 30th 2004
The Los Angeles Bondage Ball

Night kind of... oozes into the streets of New Orleans.  There's a spirit - an old, drunken, lecherous air to that city that clings to it and lives in it.  It's entirely... intoxicating.

I chose this as the backdrop for my first Christmas with my slave.  She had never been to the South, much less to New Orleans. 

I was pleased that Dixie delivered its much-heralded hospitality in perfect form.  Arrayed in black and leather and collar and cuffs and such, one might expect to get silent stares or blatant sneers or worse.  We were given such honest and open salutations and warm wishes for the holidays from so many random people we passed.  Very different from the split-second assessments you get from people here in Los Angeles.   It was all together refreshing.

We were stopped while walking down Bourbon Street by an old black man carrying a cane he had made out of toothpicks.  He introduced himself as the 'Prince of Love'.  In his professional opinion, my slave and I were meant to be together.  He blessed us both, guaranteeing a year of great sex to come.  With that kind of benediction, I knew the time had come.  I hired a carriage to take us around the French Quarter, and as we made our way into the Vieux Carre, I professed my love to my slave for the first time since she submitted to my collar.

It was the greatest gift I had to give, and I was very pleased to give it.  My slave has enriched my life in ways that I had not dared imagine.  I count myself fortunate to have found her.

It was, indeed, a happy holiday.

To all of the snot-nosed, pompous, grossly deluded 'money-dommes' (not applicable to pro femme dommes): 

I’ve read through enough of the tripe that you post here.  It’s been painful, picking through the tattered grammar and adolescent self-aggrandizing.  This drivel that you regurgitate from the last ‘money-domme’ ad that you read gets tiresome and thin.

Dominance requires more than the ability to spew out some poorly conceived aspersions.  It requires strength of character and a solid foundation in one’s self.   How can you bear that kind of power if you can’t even make the payments on your mobile home?  Your thinly veiled scraping and begging is evident to anyone with half a mind to see it.  How entirely pitiable. 

Here’s something for you to ponder, sweeties:  The earth keeps traveling ‘round the sun.  Every time around you get older and older.   It’s best that you put some time and effort into a real skill, because the older you get, the more pathetic and ineffectual your begging becomes.

As I do not intend to mislead anyone, I am not presently looking for a slave. I have one collar and it rides very nicely on my whore's neck. I am, indeed, quite content.

I am, however, open to and interested in excursions into people's heads. I am always willing to share experiences, thoughts, ideas, etcetera with any of you who can manage to carry a decent conversation.