maitreDuAcier


MaitresseDiony Female Dominant, 26	Maitre Male Dominant, 49, NY, CA, FL, New York	MaitresseLique Female Dominant, 39

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	About maitreDuAcier It's a new year. I'm ridding myself of the past, ridding myself of attachments holding me back. Looking for a service sub to help sweep out the old and venture into the future. Currently single, cultured man about town, bon vivant, sadist/dom seeks charming, well-spoken sub; for nights out on the town on my arm, and evenings in at my feet.

Sex in a car at my age?!

Apr?un voyage fructueux, well mostly anyway (traffic aside), I update.?

We were almost late to the concert due to traffic, but did get about an hour to hang with the band, and entourage, backstage.

Let me say first that I do appreciate the satisfaction of an intricate scene.? The art, the planning, the precision, it is as a great timepiece is, the proof of a determined mind.? I've planned and participated in my share, they are things of beauty.? But the more time I spend in impromptu circumstances with a party of the right temperament the more I find I need the off the cuff thrill, the immediacy of the moment.? To throw a sub down on the bed and use nothing more than the sheet, your hands and the belt you are wearing ... it has a visceral quality.? I'm quite sure there were times while taking her I was growling.? There was a large chunk of the weekend spent thus.? And so it came time to leave DC, and a traffic jam down 95 that led to delays, that led to aside road, that led to, well, an act most oft attributed to the adolescent.? But there I was taking her in the car parked not far from the road, her whelps and moans of no consequence to the passing traffic.?

Perhaps I should drive rather than fly more often.

Bad bachelor party saved,

Honestly, are men being more than circumcised at birth these days?? Have their balls been removed as well??

Has the art of debauchery fallen hopelessly out of fashion?

A buddy of mine had a bachelor party this Saturday.? I had been a part of the planning, but then girlfriends were invited.? I joked that maybe I could bring my mom, and perhaps the bride could drop by. Beware the ouroboros; when satire becomes reality ... yes the fiance did come to the bachelor party!!

Luckily I was able to meet with a young lady after I had driven the (wasted) groom (who lacked a key to his own house!!!!) home.? A little bondage, a little orgasm denial, a little sadism, these really brought my mood around.?

A better Sunday brunch through BDSM.

A swamp in summer

June 17th I'll be making the trip to DC, and this time not for business (well who am I kidding I'll probably line up a couple meetings while I'm there).? Amanda Palmer's new effort Evelyn Evelyn will be at the 9:30 club.? I'll be there, guess I'll have to pack the seersucker! ?

Anachronisms ...
? If you have a CRT in the background of your profile image we can guess 1 of 2 things.? Either the photo isn't recent, or maybe it was taken at your grandmother's house??

going to the city,
? i'm taking a little trip to the city this weekend to catch some opera, take in a preview showing of a new musical and dine.? i spent last weekend getting my girl for the trip outfitted appropriately and getting those outfits tailored to my liking. i'll be staying in the chelsea district, and dining at per se, daniels, wd50 and jean george.? if you see me out: do say hello.

(looks like the regex for capitals is a little overzealous today?)

makes me sad:
Mediocrity

gets me hot:
effort, intelligence, wit, charm ... Oh and a girl in glasses

body mods:
Do mods have to be intentional? I've got plenty of scars.....

makes me happy:
Sensual experience, and by that I mean any and all senses. Looking at beautiful objects, tasting tasty food and drink, smelling pleasant smells, hearing great music, touching flesh.

most humbling moment:
Robert Parker thought my date to the tasting was a hooker (and no she wasn't).

crush:
Kari Byron, Emilie Autumn, Felicia Day

into:??????????
experience, I'm not yet old enough to be bored of everything.

sign:
.,|,,

Le rentree,

? I return after a summer of, not really leisure, but of pursuits that are not tiresome. I did a a little traveling , a little acting, a little flying, a little sailing, a little camping.? A funny aside into the vanilla world; a past student of mine hearing a sailing story, in a vanilla setting, asked, "Can you really sail, all those ropes and knots and stuff?"? She said it without even a grin.? It was precious. So now fall approaches, the start of the season, and I return, refreshed and renewed.

I trust all out there share my renewed optimism.

Annual retreat, It is time for my (well lets be honest; I go away more than once a year, more like semi-annual) annual mountain spa retreat. Usually it would be for the beaujolais tasting, but the Asheville downtown board, in their infinite wisdom, has decided to cancel this year. But lucky for me there is an attraction to give me reason (as if I needed one) to get away to the spa. Amanda Palmer will be giving a concert Friday. I will be in attendance. Who killed Amanda Palmer?

Non-waterproof mascara: She should be perfectly turned out when we go to dine, when I take her out on the town she should be a compliment to me. But after, to see the black runs of mascara down her face, to see that line of tears made visible, to see the rips in her stockings, to see the slight pink of a bruise starting to form, that's the image I take away from the night.

What's black and white and red all over? Tim Burton's Sweeney Tood.... I adore Sondheim and Sweeney Tood was always my favorite musical. The movie was better than I expected, and really quite good. The musical always seemed to me a sweet little love story. I've always wanted a Mrs. Lovette. Someone who will plot with me and laugh at the worderful absurdity of human kind.

Bon service est un bon service: We went to the spa south of Asheville a few weeks ago to stay for the weekend after a big wine tasting on Thursday. It occurred to me that good service is good service however it manifests itself. I really do enjoy being served, and people who serve like being appreciated, it is a lovely balance. Time is the ultimate luxury, and I did luxuriate this time to use her. I was un petite traitor por moi to send her to the masseuse sore from the night before only to use her again fresh and a tiny bit more flexible. It wasn't until Sunday that I could bruise her, after all you can't do a wrap over damaged skin.

I wonder, was anyone else reading this at the Rasputina concert tonight?

Question and Answer: her question: I must have been pulling against the restraints pretty hard...although I certainly did NOT want to be cut free! It felt so good to be bound up. How strange is was...so much better than I imagined it would be.I always feel so out of control when I'm having sex ...... Being tied down made me feel safe and comfortable. I never felt worried or afraid for one moment...even when you brought out your blades.Should I have felt intimidated? Is that how I should have reacted? I knew you were not going to hurt me ... My answer: Your feelings don't disappoint, they show in their nature the very essence of a Dom/sub relationship. You feel fear and doubt when not with me and you feel calm and safe when under my control. It would be hard for you to explain to others that when tied up in a strange room somewhere, with a man on top of you holding a blade to your chest, your screams going unnoticed by anyone, your clothes being cut away, that you weren't afraid, on the contrary you felt safe and comfortable. Your shaking and screams due to orgasm not fear.

'tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and i will tell you his entire philosophy of life. show me the woman he sleeps with and i will tell you his valuation of himself..... the man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer--because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut.' -ayn rand, It is telling; While you can buy the right pair of cufflinks, the right pen, some things you have to earn to own.

Une nuit de douleur Last night I hurt her. I did it with full knowledge and explained to her why I would be hurting her. I have had a week of pain myself, my body rebeling against me. She whispered back that she would happily take the pain for me. It is a welcome respite, when doling out pain I don't feel my own, and after the effect lingers breaking me from the cycle. I left her in the morning with a letter quoting Cicero: "Neque porro quisquam est qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit..." "There is no one who loves pain itself, who seeks after it and wants to have it, simply because it is pain..." Her pain was in service to me, it had reason.

A rose by any other name might be a genetically engineered petunia. I explained to her what I would be doing because symbols and words have power. She had to know what this meant lest there be an unspoken misunderstanding. I wouldn't even use the word, aussit?it, aussit?ait, I called it a choker, because it didn't have the signifigance of a collar with a capital C. I wanted the visual cue, I wanted the function. It was pretty on her, and it was a functional asset during the night. I removed it before I left. She looked a little sad, and I missed the look of it there.

It had been a while since I had a session, Friday night ended my seclusion. But you know what they say, "It's just like raping a bike."

Ma citation du jour: The vocabulary of pleasure depends on the imagery of pain. --Warner, Marina the reply from aja was: A correct answer is like an affectionate kiss. --Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Mardi est le nouveau jeudi, So I'm having my night out with the guys, cigars and drinks on the patio. My scotch on the rocks begins to fog over the surface because of the supersaturated air and the misting rain. My mind immediately flashes to having a body tied to a tree, me lashing it while the steam rises from the flesh, and from the cries more satisfing steam. The weather conspires against me this Tuesday.

La saison de la fraise; The little strawberry stands start to show themselves here in NC. I do love them fresh, still warm from the afternoon sun. Served either with slightly whipped cream, a clotted cream, or a fruit, say fig, vinigar reduced to a syrup.

Apr?d?r le mardi pass? I didn't really have une soir?totale available, so to be effecient I combined my obligations with my indulgence. I tied her such that she lay on her side, hands behind and knees up. I used three lengths of rope to make it just so; the right position and the right pattern, comme ? I used a paddle to get in the mood, to redden her skin, to bring me to take her violently. Then I left her to go to the other room, I had coorespondence to attend to. I could hear her sobbing quietly, still bound, the most beautiful background music for my work. After a time, probably 20 minutes or so I came back in to use her body, then left again to make a cocktail a read a few pages. When I came back she had fallen into a deep sleep, tears dried on the pillow, so I untied her gently, she barely roused, and she went right back to sleep. I went back to my reading happy that she was there and fully willing should I wish anything of her.

I wish I had words to describe the meal, 5 hours long, 16 courses in total. I'm still in recovery. THE MENU FROM Jo?Robuchon * Le Pamplemousse Cuill? de perles de son jus rafra?i d?un granit?u campari * Le Caviar Osci?e Sur un petit flan moelleux voil??une l?re cr? d?asperge * La Sardane En fine tarte ?a f? au sirop d??ble * La Langoustine Truff?et cuite en ravioli avec un ?nc?e chou ?v? * Le Thon Rouge mi-cuit et l?rement fum?semoule v?tale aux algues et curry vert. * L'Oursin ?la pur?de pomme de terre au caf?orr?? * La Laitue En fin velout?ur une royale tremblotante d?oignons nouveaux ?a muscade * Le Homard Dans une nage printani? ravigot?de beurre iod?ux aromates. * L'Os ?oelle Garni de f?ttes primeurs et de quelques girolles * La Noix de Saint-Jacques Dans un court bouillon, jeunes poireaux et gingembre * Le Turbot En cocotte aux artichauts ?neux et un jus de barigoule. * L'Amadai Cuit en ?illes croustillantes ??huile de pistache. * Le B?uf de Kob? Grill?cristalline au poivre, cresson en tempura, raifort ?a moutarde. * Les Racines et pousses d'ici Mara??s, couleur de saison m?es d?amandes fra?es en tagine. * Le Lait Caill? Aux fruits rouges ??eau de rose et ?a vanille de Tahiti. * Le Caramel En cr?ux au Macadamia, chocolat ??ancienne, glace au Teecino vanilla. * Le Caf?u le Th? Escort?e mignardises

I knew I had so much to do before my trip to Vegas that I wouldn't really have time to dine. I told her to go and get some bread, cheese, and fruit for a late-night meal. I brought a not too outrageous bordeaux to complement. Nice cheese, good bread, and she had to go to at least 3 different stores to find good fruit this time of year. She knew well enough that even if we weren't going out she was to dress for me, and she did. She looked a lovely picture as she served the meal. Apr?d?r I had her clear the plates and ... d?abille, I read to her a few short passages, then I started to beat her. Since I was going to Vegas it would be well over a week before I would see her, so even though she did such an admirable job on the meal I wanted to leave remembrance of myself on her body. I explained this to her while I was beating her, letting her know it was not her performance, simpy my whim .... leaving bruises along her ribs, her legs, her chest, her throat. As she cried out, in between the sobs she said something beautiful. She said, she was sorry she was crying out, that she would take any amount of pain for me. I like to hear her cries though, it helps me monitor the pain I'm giving, and lets be honest; I'm excited by the sound. Les bruits de la douleur m'apportent le joie grand.

I'm reading Sherlock Holmes to her now, "The Man With the Twisted Lip." They are precious these moments, her looking up at me adoringly, giggling at the voices of the characters, asking little questions about antiquated terms. These moments are made better by the knowledge of what I will do to her after the story is over. She knows well what will happen, and she sits at my feet not in dread but full of hope; hope that she will please. She did, she bore herself through the evening admirably well.

Dinner was, unfortunately a bit rushed as the play started at 8. I had a plate of sweetbreads that were prepped superbly, the sauce I thought was a little overpowering, but acceptable. A Grand Cru Burgandy compliented them nicely.

The play was just insane enough to keep me well entertained.

IN THE DOG HOUSE:
THE EXECUTION OF
FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

A comedy! Yes, a comedy.

New Year's Eve: Dinner was very nice, no real complaints. It was a 4 course prixe-fix with a champagne toast. The star of the meal was a spiced turtle soup that I paired with an rich amontillado. The lamb could have been better, I should have ordered the roast duckling. After dinner, a few games of cribbage, leading up to midnight and more champagne (I pulled a 1995 La Grand Dame from my cellar pour l'occasion.) Phone calls from all over with good wishes came in for the next few minutes which was really very sweet. I ended the evening with a Trinidad Havana and a glass of 1935 Semp?rmangnac. While in NY she had bought new lingerie and was anxiously awaiting showing me. There is nothing like really good silk in a well constructed garment. The promise of la nouvelle ann? the satisfaction of a good meal, and good wine, the effort she put into dressing for me; all these things caused a lust, une convoitise fonc? rise inside me. I kissed her once then turned her and pushed her face down onto the bed. I pushed her so that she would be facing the mirror, then I told her to watch. I undressed, placed everything aside save my knife and came to her. The sound of her panties fabric sliding and being sliced by the edge of my knife inspired my lust even more. Her eyes closed, and I grabbed her hair pulling her head up and commanded that she would not close her eyes, that she would watch while I used her. She did, she watched while I fucked her, for at that point there is no more appropriate word She watched while I fucked her and beat her, her eyes wide, for it's one thing to understand the sublimation of yourself to another, to understand being used by someone you've given yourself to, it's quite another thing to witness it en temps r?.

How to tie a handle:

I tied her hands in front of her. Arms crossed so that each hand cupped a breast. Blue flat coreless rope this time. I used the center bight to wrap her wrists together, a couple turns, back through then around the neck, back to the arms, thread through the top of the loops then back around the neck the other way. Now under the arms wrap over and down, between the legs, one loop going around and over one hip, the other loop the other way, then joining in the middle. I used a hitch to keep the loops from slipping down, then I wrapped the rope around the desending strands forming a handle that I would use later, the ends tied back to the loops on the wrists. You see while I was taking her I could grab the rope coil that was now on her abdomen and pull her into me. As I did she would feel the rope pull both on her wrists, her neck and between her legs. It was, I have to tell you, great fun for me to play with this leverage.

On other events of the night:

The party was, ?on ?nnement, ?nt ennuyeux. It was amuzing to see the strippers in their evening gowns, but they looked so uncomfortable. It was like the stripper prom. I think the restaurant made them uncomfortable as well, no-one drank to excess, and really they were so afraid to make a mistake and embarass themselves they were all on le meilleur comportement.

After the party I went to my cribbage opponents apartment to exchange gifts. She had for me a sweet celtic ornament, an Edward Gorey book, and a wine decantur having candy glass overlay with matching glasses. I had for her a calendar to match a book I had gotten her earlier in the year, a new cribbage board, a few sets of dice, and - la pi? de r?stance - a custom made set of gold plated cribbage pegs with semi-precious jeweled tops.

The inverse:

The old clich?f strippers being brought to the company Christmas party? Tomorrow I do the inverse.I?ve been invited by a stripper to the strip club?s Christmas party.
Surprise #1? Strip clubs have office parties.
Surprise #2? It?s at a pretty nice restaurant.
Surprise #3? She?s indicated that the dress is semi formal! I wonder if I should get some dress shoes with clear heals?

Rasputina concert in Charlotte Thursday.

Melora Creager is out of her gourd, not that that is a bad thing. If she weren't these concerts would be entertaining and the music is worth going for, but without her insane interludes the event would definitely suffer.

High points of the trip:

The tackiest, most ironic hotel room ever. Pink walls covered with glitter and a heart shaped jacuzzi with fake flowers everywhere. (Yes I picked it on purpose, yes it was worth it, we still haven?t stopped laughing.)

The mint museum of Art & Design. They have some amazing things, and like most modern art museums some complete disasters, both are entertaining.

Mimosa Grill for dinner. The waiter was so obviously on coke we had a laugh or two, on the plus side; very quick service.The food was nothing special, but I didn?t have to tell the bartender how to make a champagne cocktail.

Santa Clause bought us drinks at the concert.I don?t mean someone nice, I mean a guy that could have been Santa Clause, a tipsy headbanging Santa Clause, but the hair and the beard ?

She asked, ?Can I trust you?? I went on to explain that this is a tautological question that will ever only have one answer. Oh I was rough on her, more so that I ever have been with her, she only cried a little, but that wasn?t what she was asking, and she asked before I started. She knows she can trust her body to me, this was the first time she gave over everything.

I know that our time together in this way is not long term, it is the flame that burns too bright. Much like that flame it will leave its after vision in my memories, c'est la vie.

I bruised the bottoms of her feet. I reveled in giving that pain, in her taking it for me, and she did so with the knowledge that the pain would continue. I know that for 3 days every step she?s taken has reminded her of our time together. Deux fois l'amusement.

There is a speech by Portia in the Merchant of Venice Act III Scene II that I would have recited for me.

The week before Halloween I was able to take my dear friend and cribbage partner to the Dresden Dolls concert in Raleigh.They were ON, even the opening act, The Red Paintings, were great.I?ve waited 2 years for a Dolls concert and the wait was worth it. I don?t make a very good fan boy, but I am completely enamored with Amanda Palmer. Bien s?donned mon plus beaux v?ments for the occasion, a red and black satin smoking jacket, black shirt, tux trousers, a button pearl stick pin in my white silk ascot, matching drop pearl lapel pin and stick pearl cufflinks. I had my date wear long black velvet skirt, black corset, and insane I-beam metal shoes. ( Of all the things I did to her later I still think those shoes looked the most sadistic. )

Dinner, well here is a difficulty when escorting a young lady wearing a corset. I always recommend a light dinner and the easiest for that is sushi. We dined at Mura she on California rolls, myself on unagi and kobi. Be prepared with food after you unlace her, but sushi should her through the concert. Back at the hotel ( for I wasn?t about to drive dressed and then drive back in the middle of the night, much easier to get a spot around the corner ) I had already prepared wine, cheese, fruit, and bread so that after the concert, we could have another little snack.

A few good things about a nice corset: first I never lace it all the way tight. This allows me later to pull at the laces for a few moments of extra tension. Behind her while whispering instructions in her ear I could pull at the laces and hear her try to gasp, delicious. Second, I could enjoy the sound of beating her and not really worry about bruises, the corset distributes the load of the blow so efficiently. I bound her arms out of the way so that I might have access to the full circumference of the corset with which to play.

The flip side of safety. Knowing all of safety rules for bondage, means that by inverse you know what not to do, you know how to make it dangerous. A man that worked for me, a friend, a fellow Dominate, all around good guy committed suicide this week. We had talked quite abit about the right ropes and good affixing points, quick release knots, non-binding knots, and airway management. He used the inverse of his knowledge of safety to end his life, I'm sorry he's gone.

Pomegranates are in season.? I do love those tart juicy seedlettes, but getting to them can be a chore.? It occurs to me that that would be an excellent job for one at my feet.? Far more entertaining than peeling grapes.

aja came to me this morning to serve tea and biscuits. I didn't refuse her, this innocent act of service is completely acceptable.
The crucial point, the thing that touched me, was that she served on matching fine china with a border inspired by Klimpt. She understands my wants, my wishes and even said, "Presentation is as important as the thing itself." Indeed it is.

I had an unexpectedly enjoyable Wednesday. Dinner with a friend who really knows how to dress, at a restaurant I wasn?t expecting much from, but delivered none the less. A simple baked brie to start with a champagne cocktail followed by lamb with gnocchi dumplings and a lovely little syrah.Then off for cigars (the proprietor of the cigar bar was mentch enough to supply us with a montecristo and a Trinidad; so our romeos could be saved for another evening) and cribbage. Later when back at her endroit de s?rit? fixed cocktails and read to her a part of ?Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead.? The rest of the night took me somewhat by surprise, but We can improvise quite well with a belt, a length of sheet, and a bow tie. Si le temps ?ient sans fin, I would regale you with more of the tale, but that will have to wait until the next installment.

Oscar & Me:

No civilised man ever regrets a pleasure, just as no uncivilised man ever knows what a pleasure is. --Wilde
I know what pleases me and I've never regretted taking that pleasure. I refuse to be Byron's Manfred. The taste of guilt bitters the ortolan so sometimes the napkin is used, but still we feed.

The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple. --Wilde
No one I have ever been remotely interested in has been either pure or simple.

No life is spoiled but one whose growth is arrested. --Wilde
I leave this quote alone simply because I love it.

For many years pain has been my constant companion.? I don't say friend,
and I wouldn't consider it a Bergeronian burden either.? Begleitergeist is as good a match as I can put words to at the moment.? I refuse medication as I find it dulls the other senses, and I'm far to much of a sybarite to loose any amount of sensation.
Apres beaucoup de sables par le verre it has become clear that I would
make a poor masochist.? There is very little in the way of pain another
human could do to me, without causing irreparable damage, that wouldn't
pale in comparison to what my own body dishes out to me regularly.
It has been said that that's what makes me an exceptionally talented
sadist.? I am very good at pain though I'm not sure that's the right word to describe me.? In the classical
sense that would mean someone who derives pleasure from another's pain.
I have no word for my "thing", my "kink".? Ce qui est le mot? An
experiential sink? In my case it's related to my vicarious indulgences
through surrogate ingenues.? I revel in giving a novice pallet a great
wine. Thus I can taste the unfaded glory of a first tasting.? Bringing
along a neophyte so that I can hear new again a great symphony brings me
no end of joy.

I fight back my own ennui by luxuriating in the fresh thrill of others.

Bespoke.? It is my nature to want things that are mine, made for me, that would suit no one else.? My suits, my jewelry, stationary, all made for me.? It occurs to me that that is what I want in a submissive as well.? To mold them into exactly what I want.? Every gesture, every word, what they wear, perfume, their cries of pain, everything made to be perfect for me.? I don't think of a submissive as a common slave, but as a courtesan being trained in my particular eccentricities.

I had promised to take aja to a wine tasting and to demonstrate some bondage, I would observe her to determine my future course of action.? I had her prepare (as she now knows quite well) and present herself.? I tied her with a flat coreless purple rope.? She did make a pretty package when I was done.? Over the sholders crossed between the breasts around the chest with hands tied behind, three or four wraps, all kept perfectly flat and symetrical, perfection.? Ohh I used her, I used all of her.? When I had had my fill she began to cry, just a little.? I untied her and held her for a time while she calmed.? Then it was time for dinner...
I first prepared her for the tasting, picking her dress, her shoes, her undergarments, jewlery, and nail polish.? The wine tasting and dinner were lovely, she made a quite charming (and well dressed) companion.? Her conversation turned more and more to her training and life with me, this concerned me.? After a few months with aja, I became concerned that she was becoming too dependant on me.? After all, the nature of our relationship was supposed to be one only of instruction, to help her marriage not destroy it. She seemed certain that to tell her husband would destroy him, and I could see that she was on the verge of reveiling all to him.? I? sat her at my feet after dinner and released her.? I won't be party to a lie or to the destruction of a relationship that works on so many other levels.? Hopefully the contacs I have given them will work out and they can grow together.

Sometimes the lesson is there can be no more lessons.

First the story of how I kept my honor....
The complication I spoke of with mon novice aja is that she is married. She asked me to teach her of the "lifestyle." I was reluctant without her sharing with her husband her feelings. He is not a natural Dom, and in fact his relationship with her up to now was with her being in the dominate position. I was hoping I with some assistance could make him ape the part so that aja could be happy. Alas that was not to be the case. (Maybe someday, but definately not at this point in the story)
With my urging aja shared with her husband her needs. I gave them references and contact with a Dominatrix so that they could go about informed. Rushing into play so that he could please her (see how upside down that is?) he tried spanking her. He hurt her back (she has a rod from an accident.) I had no choice at this point to step in. I agreed to give her a demonstration so that she might be spanked in a safe way.
Now in order for me to do this, I did have to give her some instructions to prepare. After all, I had to be amused in some way by this demonstration, and she had to learn that the spanking is not for her, it is for the Dom. I instructed her before her demonstration to learn to count in french to 12.
Since this was our first session I had her draw up a list of restrictions. At first this list was quite long, but as the day approached, she kept removing restrictions until the last one left was no marks that might be discovered by her husband later.
The day arrived, I sent her away to read her instructions and prepare while I readied my tools. I had brought a strap, a bamboo mat, an acrylic paddle, a rubber spatula, a flogger, and a deerskin glove. Her letter read that she was to refer to me as Ma?e, that answers to my questions would be answered oiu or non, and that at each stroke of my hand, or swipe of my tools she would count the stroke in french. She presented herself as instructed naked bowed at my feet and spoke the phrase "Je suis a vous."
I began with my hand, swipes going laterally, so as to not compress the spine. At the first sting she faltered only for a moment, but then I heard a strained ?un!? On I went to the glove, exploring her legs, then to the flogger and working her back. I turned her and used the glove on her nipples, and her belly, the tops of her thighs, and yes her mons and between her legs. All the time she kept her count. "Un, deux, trois ..." The sight of her, the sound of her counting, her breath coming now in ragged spurts, she was close to tears. Then I took her. Then I took her while still striking her, and still she counted.

It was glorious. I still think of it as a demonstration. I still hope to save her marriage, to let her free at the end, but having her at my feet is a sweet sweet luxury.

I had lunch dans priv?ith mon novice this week. The champagne was Barnaut. After the first course I informed her that I would have her dine with me naked. It is the first opportunity I've had to inspect the corpus totale of mon novice. It is perfect, even her scars are perfect. She then showed me the tattoo she recieved on Monday as a tribute to me. She now wears the mark of the Crane on her arm. I am pleased, touched but taken aback. It takes much to surprise me and she has.

I did not play with her (much), and the only bruise I left is well hidden. I still have not taken her fully into my service, there are still complications. But to have one such as this at your feet, there is nothing sweeter. I can't deny myself forever.

I could have her! Maudissez les ?iles dans le ciel! All I need do is pluck her as easily as I could pluck a grape from de la vigne.
She need not confess, indeed it was I that spoke the words for her. She could not bring the words forth, she stuttered, her halted eyes downturned afraid, yet as I began "If I wanted, I could take you. I could have you." "Yes" she agreed "you could have me." Still I do not take her. Why mon dieu? I'll tell you why. Pour le plume blanc de M. Bergerac, for my honor. For in taking her I would cause true harm; complications, ripples outcast. I give pain as a blessing, as a gift, as a freedom, as a gilliad balm pour le besoin sans fin. My pain isn't accidental, not without purpose, yet if I take her now that would be the result. Her service must be freely given, with knowledge of all of the reprecussions it might have. Easy it would be to tell her undertaking her service to me would have no effect upon the rest of her life; but that would be a lie.
Yes, I have been the gentleman; I must. I have yet to kiss her cheek, my inticements thus far have been but introductions, a few simple commands, a few brief touches, a glimpse into what her service to me might be like. From these few moments I have tasted her need, her need both new and la pleine maturit?
I covet. I hunger. Oh, but could I allow myself to slake my thirst with the sweet taste of her need! Le diable qui me tient dedans contraint est moi.

I have been thinking today of the short blade. It may be time for me to play with it again. It has been a couple of months ....

It was approaching the day of the saint of the heart. I made the decision to do something special. I took, my then very new, strawberry far away into the mountains of NC. She didn't know where we were going, she didn't know what we were going to do. It is a magical place of pampering, and beauty. The rest of the weekend, the description of the surroundings, the other experiences were covered in another journal. Until now my play has not been written of.

I brought clothes for her to wear for me. I sent her away to dress and prepare for the session. As it was our first play together she was given a letter instructing her how to address me, how to prepare for me, and what she should say if in distress during the evening. While she was away I took time to dress in something appropriate to the environs; tall black leather boots, riding pants, a white linen shirt, and two knives on my belt. She returned as instructed, dressed in the clothing provided; a simple white silk shirt, tied at the waist, a short plaid skirt, and seamed stockings. She is a most scrumptious morsel. I then handed her a blindfold and she smiled. She reached quickly for a gift. She had gotten a new blindfold. I am pleased when a subject brings offerings. And so she was allowed to don this blindfold. I then ordered her onto the bed, flat with her arms above her head, placed her arms through a secured strip of fabric and affixed my thumb cuffs to her. Thus I began.
The sound, the vibration, of a knife point scraping along fabric leaving it uncut is a delicious thing. I did take great pleasure in doing this, playing with the various textures with the tip of my knife for a while. Then I wished to use the gut hook, and what better place to use that than the buttons of a blouse? Grab, pluck, grab, pluck, they come off so efficiently. That leaves the flesh of the belly exposed. This means that the knife can now trace flesh. The blade leaves white lines as it traces images on the flesh of the subject. The question now is, how does one remove a blouse when the arms are restrained? The blouse must be cut from the body. Mmmmmm the smooth cut of silk by a sharp blade. The running of the back of the knife up the arm as the blade cuts the sleeve. Why stop there? Violently I go to the skirt, the wool resisting the blade. But with some force the blade goes through rending the garment in two, a jagged cut along the front framing an exposed flesh now wet with anticipation. Down now to the stockings. To cut lines, to cut holes, to rip across the grain, to tear with the back of the blade; why not take my time and try them all? Eventually she is there, exposed except for the top lace of the stockings, breath coming in ragged gasps. I run the blade along her piercings, first in the navel, then the piercing in her hood. The sound of metal against metal. The cold feel of steel that close to her. The blade slides across her skin. She is mine now. And I take full advantage of that body with my blade, and my body.

The wonderful thing about staying in places that truly know how to care for you, truly know how to be discreet; there is never any question about a little blood on the sheets now and again.

Tonight I revealed the sword to Mon Fraise du Bois for the first time. I had not planned so to do. Much went into to preparing her for the ball so that time would not seem to allow. She did indeed turn out to be a most stunning and elegant little strawberry for me. A wonderful escort to the event.

We had returned to my room so that I might change for the latter half of the evening. I wished her entertained while I changed so I showed her some wrist restraints that were a recent acquisition. Upon seeing them her little eyes lit up, her gaze dropped, and she asked ever so sweetly if I would place her in the restraints. She had been so good at the ball, had brought all that I asked her to bring for the session, and asked in a way that was so pleasing to me I decided that I would allow her to be my practice target that night. I gave Mon Fraise her dressing instructions. She went away to dress as I made my preparations:
A hook in the wall to which to affix the restraints
Don my whites
Bless the sword
Mon Fraise appeared as commanded wearing a purple corset. She had worked to impress me by adding to the outfit a studded garter belt, purple stockings, and little feathery purple boudoir shoes. I tightened the corset upon her to produce a silhouette most striking for striking.
I sat her on the bed to show her the sword and to inform her how I would use her. I allowed her to feel the steel against her skin, slowly scraping it along the surface. I had her kiss the blade. I instructed my strawberry to hold out her hands. She did so quickly, truly a good little morsel. I tightened the suspension cuffs, led her to the hook and affixed her there, face against the wall, hands over her head, legs spread slightly, waiting.
Then I began. First I was kind enough to let Mon petite acclimate to the metal by running the edge over her body. She shuttered, and I could sense that she was becoming wet with anticipation, dying for me to begin. Naturally I begin all of my practice sessions with accuracy work. I picked points on the body and began with simple thrusts of the blade. Beginning with the lightest of thrusts I worked up to blade bending work. As always working the wrist such that the inflection of the blade is up. Even though I was using a foil I decided that epee targets should also be practiced on. Why waste the opportunity? After finishing my thrusts and precision practice I chose to work in some wrist and lunge work. Moving to the side within a short lunge distance I began my exercise. First a lunge, then a beat in false forth. I varied the hight of the beat upon her bottom each time working as I would an opponents blade. After 20 or so short lunges I increased the lunge distance and began to vary the beat strength and positions. The target began to learn the motions, and with each fall of my foot into the lunge I could see her tense knowing that the strike was imminent. I finished a set of about 80 lunges and then instructed the target to look, to watch me use her. After I felt my practice sufficient for the evening I set aside my helm, and my sword, removed my glove and proceeded to flog my pet with it. Over and over I swung the glove striking the flesh already marked with lines from the sword. It was at that moment that her wimpers and moans, the beauty of the marks on her body incited me to take her, to use her body with mine. I did. There while suspended against the wall I took her. Sometimes stretching her away from the wall so that she had to stand on tiptoe, sometimes pressing her into the wall ravishing her. Eventually due to the long session of strikes to her body by the sword, the tension of remaining my very good target for such a long time, and the strength of her orgasms my strawberry went limp, knees bent, her weight carried by her wrists in the restraints. She could take no more.
She pleases me, Mon Fraise du Bois. If she continues to work hard to content her Ma?e she shall soon get another lesson.

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