Posts Tagged ‘BDSM’

Diary of a Dominatrix #46: Bidding Farewell to Mistress Roulette

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Mistress Roulette and Mister P come back to make one final Diary of a Dominatrix Podcast. In it they discuss the fact that Mistress Roulette is in love with another man and that she wants to start a sexual relationship outside their marriage. Strangely, this seems to have rekindled their marriage. They recap the events of the last year or so and how Mistress Roulette got depressed and couldn’t get out of bed for much of it.

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Download Diary of a Dominatrix #46: Bidding Farewell to Mistress Roulette

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Vigilance [working title] – Chapter One

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VIGILANCE
[working title]

(c) 2009 M Roulette Chatelaine
(Steal my shit, and I’ll be hunting YOU down.)

CHAPTER ONE —

. use me

I dig my heel deeper into the soft pouch of flesh between his legs, protected only by a thin layer of fabric, thanks to my generosity of allowing him to leave his pants on. Trust me, I didn’t have to. His eyes are wide, and he’d be begging and pleading with me to spare him the pain and humiliation, were he able to. I’ll have to remember to buy a new pair of hosiery in the hotel lobby, I mentally note before alleviating just enough pressure; it should allow the man to speak. Oh, except for the hose. I yank that quickly out of his mouth, enjoying the nice red lines that have formed at the outer edges of his lips due to him having to accommodate the big ball of lingerie.

“Well?” With my other arm casually against my thigh, pistol in hand, of course, I look right at him. Ready for my answer. Too bad for him, it appears he has nothing. Nothing doesn’t fly with me. Not in my work, and not in my play. I hate that I keep getting the two mixed up.

“She said … ” He begins.

“That’s right, Jimmy. You take a nice deep breath and think carefully about your words.” Somewhere in the back of my brain, I realise Cassandra would kill me, if she knew I was here. Not that I cared, or that it would stop me. Cass and I were friends. This is what friends do – when one of them gets date-raped, at least. “Do you think I have all day?”

“What?” He sputters. “I, I … I don’t even know who you are!”

Well, that’s a no-shit. Nor will he ever. If he wants to live. Against my better judgment, I’m not always a sadistic hell-bitch. I do ensure that the punishment fits the crime. And, well, California, and thereby, Los Angeles, isn’t going to make rape a capital crime anytime soon. Regardless of my own personal, albeit biased, feelings toward the subject matter. (more…)

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Fun Assignment! BDSM in Ancient Cultures!

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For all my wonderful commenters, readers, followers et al.

Every now and again, I get some pretty wild ideas. As usual, I’ve always got a number of bizarre things buzzing through my brain. This just happens to be another one. Sure, I could do it alone, but it’s that much more fun to be collaborative.

That being said, I’m currently researching BDSM in ancient context — specifically, how it may’ve once fit in with certain religions and spiritualities in the primitive world. I know certain Grecian practises, for example, in service to the Greek Pantheon required loads of drunken debauchery — but it was, of course, god- or goddess-dependent. Zeus probably wouldn’t give a shit if you fucked in his honour; but Aphrodite and Dionysus would be all about it. It’s no surprise I’m quite learned when it comes to Greek mythology, being that a good chunk of my heritage is Athenian Greek*, but the other religions, well, I’ve only touched upon. I’m sure that Hindu, for example, is rife with such things. (more…)

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Really? I mean … Really?

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Sometimes, I seriously wonder about people. What they’re honestly thinking. I mean, I was born in the morning, but it wasn’t this one. Although, I don’t really find this applicable in my everyday existence, what’s kept me from being a card-carrying member of MENSA is the fact that I couldn’t reconcile forking over the dough. In other words, I’m a genius. Changes nothing, and really more a bit of trivia than anything. Still, the length to which people go to try and fool me, or believe that they have, never fails to amaze me.

Case in point: the email I receive. Some of it has a distinct trend; if it’s not from a BMF, or likely to result in a satisfying new professional relationship, I immediately begin to detect the foul stench of bullshit — the worst kind, too; that which has been perfumed and disguised as as to appear like anything but the steaming pile of crap it is.

Most of the time, it’s harmless. Lonely men incapable of drawing the line between reality and fantasy, or all out preferring that it remain blurred at best. No matter how truly fantastic the claims may be. This is why I suspect they’ve come to me already in-role, presenting fantasy as if it were reality. It’s a delicate dance, though. Should they not be nursing some latent psychosis, they always know on some level that I can’t possibly be buying this. You’ve all seen it before, too: 24/7 relationships. Victims of blackmail. His wife, instead of being traumatised by finding her husband with another woman, joining forces with the offending party to punish said philandering husband for the rest of his days, engaging in subbie-hubbie wetdream fantasyland. (more…)

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About Mistress Roulette

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I am a dominant woman.

I don’t play at it, I don’t simply fantasise about it. I just simply am.

I was the vampyre queene while the other little girls were playing at being faerie princesses. Though I could perform the many arias of Briar Rose to perfection, it was Maleficent’s litany to Prince Phillip on the hopelessness of ‘true love conquering all’ and the delivery of her own power-play that captured my heart. Needless to say, I was always a little bit dark. The many personae in my head as a child, (which led me to believe I was mad before I realised I was actually just a writer) ranged from powerful, dominant women to the seasoned villainness and the experienced seductress. No ingenues, naive faire maidens, or delicate flowers for me. The only princess whom I admired was Leia; I often found myself fantasising about being the one seductress mastermind capable of making even Bond succumb and surrender. (Ridiculously hot kinky sex to follow — and of course, he’d live to fight another day. But his body, his heart, his soul — those would be mine.) But Fleming never made my fantasy come true. Naturally, I never quite gave it up. I kept on writing, kept on dreaming, kept on creating tales of mystery, espionage, suspense, murder, even science-fiction and fantasy — with daring, empowered women and the strong, devoted men who were helplessly under their spell, though powerful in their own right. (more…)

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