Oh dear, it’s been quite a while since my poor blog received a little time and attention. And there’s an exceptionally good reason for this, both have been in very short supply. So what better way to re-surface than with a super sexy snapshot of me sat in a sun beam. The heat is on.
This was such a fun photo-shoot. We took over a sprawling gothic building in leafy South London, exploiting its spiral stairwells, arched windows and endless walkways. I didn’t realise we weren’t alone until a stream of students poured out right in the middle of our set. Oh well, they didn’t seem to mind, it was their lecturer who proceeded to stalk us. My photographer was on the receiving end of my crop for failing to warn me though.
And talking of disruptions, it’s fairly common knowledge that I’ve had a rather disorderly time at Malice Mansions of late. The good news is that calm and cruelty have now been restored. I am finally back in business, and about time too. I LOVE my dungeon.
Coincidently I’ve just heard that Buckingham Palace is also scheduled for an extensive refit. So given my recent experiences, I have some hard won advice for her Majesty.
1. Carefully label all your storage boxes, especially the butt plugs. You don’t want to be pulling out The Wimp when only The Whopper will do.
2. Invest in as many dust sheets as you can afford (monogrammed red velvet is highly effective). This will save you the endless process of removing residue from your spanking bench, cage, or throne months down the line.
3. Regularly make an appearance on site to ensure your workmen aren’t slacking. It’s not common practice to simultaneously brandish your single-tail whip but it can’t hurt.
4. The exact catsuit or pair of thigh-high boots you deliberate about putting into storage are the ones you will need the instant they’re out of sight. Equally, if you haven’t worn something in a year then it’s safe to store.
5. Vibrators have a mind of their own. They will go off anywhere and everywhere so remove batteries for the removal.
6. Most things will go wrong most of the time. You’re still the Queen, deal with it.
Well that’s my OBE in the bag.
Right, I’m off to make the most of my newly wired electrics, and fresh paintwork. I promise not to leave it so long before making a reappearance though so do watch this space.
P.S. A small shout out to my awesome photographer Matt. He’s a true gem. So whether you’re a Mistress with a shoot in mind, or looking to spoil the Goddess in your life I would highly recommend his skills. He also isn’t phased by snakes…always good to know.
All hail Easter. It signals the end of denial and deprivation and paves the way for some serious self-indulgence. Of course I’m a big fan of the former, as long as I’m inflicting it upon others. Equally I have also been known to be exceptionally generous too, albeit with large doses of pain. Wow, when you put it like that I really am a well-rounded example of general perfection. And what better timing could there be than now to post a clutch of egg-stremely arousing new photos in my gallery.
Yours truly dressed in the the shiniest latex in the land (and the fiercest boots too) should make for a very memorable treat and put a serious spring in your step. You can almost feel the kiss of my whip, the lash of that cruel metal cane and the sting of my heel as it pierces your pale, vulnerable flesh. Can’t you?
And in true Mistress style, as I give with one hand, I take away with another. I will not be generally available from April 4th for 5 weeks whilst my dungeon is refurbished. By mid-May the amazing Malice HQ will be back up and running with a decent supply of electricity and all my amazing toys and tools raring to go. I am counting the days already.
Long-serving and favoured slaves are welcome to enquire about bookings elsewhere though.
In addition, as an exclusive Mistress lucky enough to already have a stable full of very rewarding subjects indeed, I am only accepting limited numbers of new slaves for the foreseeable future. If you wish to be considered then please email me with a PROPER letter of introduction and if I think we might be compatible I will of course let you know.
Have a cracking Easter from one sexy chick!
I’ve had some spectacularly seminal moments during my career but amongst the greatest has to be the request to model for the legendary Femme-Domme artist Sardax. He wrote to me late last year with the news that he’d been commissioned by a Japanese fetish magazine to create a series of Wonderland inspired artworks. I’m so pleased I was the obvious choice to step into the shoes of the inimitable Miss Alice. Well hopefully I was the only choice. And I think the results speak for themselves.
And what could be more of a fitting tribute as Alice in Wonderland reaches the ripe old age of 150 this year? It’s incredible to think that for a whole century and a half, the enchanting pursuits of its striped-stockinged star have delighted and inspired millions in every way, shape and form imaginable.
Alice will always hold a very special place in my heart. For me her unique journey comprises the perfect mixture of the subversive, the surreal and the downright insane. I’ve always found her tale to be a wonderful allegory for the BDSM universe where we tumble down the rabbit hole and into a perverse world where anything and everything can happen. I’ve drawn upon Freudian images more than a few times in my blog, but perhaps this has to be one of my favourites. Along these lines, I will leave you with the image of Alice at the end of her insane adventures (not all of which were pleasant) as she wakes up on the warm grass of a sunny river bank all the wiser, empowered and indeed self-enlightened. Long live Alice and all things impossible….
Did you know that even identical twins don’t have the same fingerprints? I discovered this factual gem whilst having my own digits inked a few days ago. Now while I’m aware this blog is running the risk of becoming a misery memoir, I have to admit it’s because I was burgled. Even a safe isn’t safe these days.
Thankfully there’s a small silver lining to this distressing turn of events. It makes an astonishingly convenient segue into an issue which has been on my mind lately – the psychology of the ‘safe word’.
When I started out as a Pro-Domme, I thought the safe word always signified ‘stop play without delay’. However, experience has taught me something different. Yes, even this seemingly cut-and-dried subject is…subjective. That’s BDSM for you.
I now know that a slave’s stance on the safe word is rather revelatory, a kinky clue which can assist me in creating the perfect play-time for us both. It can illuminate their relationship to suffering, control, boundaries, and basic trust in the whole Mistress/slave exchange.
I often get requests to play with no safe word at all. Some slaves disagree with this proposition, feeling it allows them an element of control, and therefore interferes with the sincerity of the Mistress/slave dynamic. How can they really surrender with this pre-agreed panic-button in place?
Equally, I have slaves who want to scream the safe word until their lungs explode as I carry on regardless. This is a fantasy of extreme, explicit helplessness at the hands of a seriously sadistic bitch. …not someone who will simply stop when you ask nicely. Such an individual doesn’t just want to hit the wall but wants to be pushed right through the bricks and out the other side.
Both examples above are most commonly the mark of an experienced player, or someone who needs a certain reassurance that they’re genuinely at my mercy – whether that’s mentally or physically. Of course I can let my whip simply do the talking, but sometimes in the dungeon, the action is actually less relevant than the intention.
On the other end of the scale lies those adamant they definitely DO NOT want to be using their safe word. A slave of this nature wants to play conservatively (at least in the first instance), with the assurance of an explicit ability to regain control if need be. Perhaps they’re not yet confident in me, comfortable with their submission, or the vulnerability that comes with relinquishing power. This is often the nature of a less experienced slave, or someone who has had a bad experience with a Mistress in the past. Often as the relationship between myself and such an individual develops, they can be convinced that boundaries really are there to be pushed.
And finally there’s the slave who’s not happy unless they’ve been forced to say the safe word at least once during the course of a session. It’s evidence they’ve really been forced to go beyond their limits in order to please me and suffered sufficiently to be allowed back again.
As far as I’m concerned, there are no rights or wrongs. Each approach has its merits and its pitfalls. Regardless, as a (safe, sane and consensual) Mistress, I have a duty of care to notice when my slave is sufficiently at his/her limits and to act accordingly whether that involves a verbal cue or not. Surely it goes without saying that I am in control regardless of any of the above?
So is a safe word ultimately topping from the bottom? Well I know what I think but I’d really like you to consider where you stand on the whole subject. Who knows, you might just learn a thing or two about not only your kinky side, but also your vanilla-self in the process.
And quite the rocket it is too, inspiring all sorts of impressive bangs and explosions. Who needs to stand shoved and shivering at the side of the Thames (trying vainly to text with woolly gloves on), when this kind of awe-inspiring display can be experienced in the warmth of your own home (gloves a kinky but non-essential accessory).
Despite a little delay (and a sizeable tantrum) the above has arrived and detonated just in time to welcome in 2015 and all the fresh fun and frolics it will bring with it. I can’t exactly read the future, but if there’s one thing I know it’s that certain kinky qualities are firmly on my personal menu. Keep an eye on my gallery in the next few weeks for a little taster.
I’m wishing everyone an amazing, Alicious, Malicious, delicious New Year. I hope it brings you health, happiness….and hedonism at my heels!
Well I’m still waiting for THE Christmas photo I had planned to treat you to before signing off. But I’m now sadly resigned to admitting defeat, putting up my perfect feet and trying to forget about the slack excuse for a photographer who doesn’t know the importance of deadlines. Instead this charming little festive image inspired by a kiss under the Mistletoe will warm your hearts and remind you of what’s really important at this time of year – worshipping the heavenly heels of a true Goddess!!
Wishing you all a very merry Malicious Christmas and a debauched and decadent New Year. I will be back in my dungeon from January 5th, and intent on putting the mean in 2015!!
You’ve probably noticed there’s been an eerie silence surrounding my blog for the past month. Well apart from the fact I’ve been busy beyond belief, there’s a darned good reason for my absence. I have been an innocent (uh-hum) victim of an extremely cruel karmic attack.
Now let me explain…
Over the years I must have sent countless shocks of electricity through the most sensitive spots of my lucky slaves. Electro-play has to be one of my favourite methods of stimulation – with infinite possibilities for persecution; various configurations, countless electrodes used singularly or in combination, delivered on different settings and programs, remotely, close-up, privately, publicly, via microphone, internally or externally. Very few methods rival its sadistic intensity, and of course there’s the added bonus of leaving no trace at all.
Oh yes, a slave wired up to my top-of-the-range ET312 is a very obedient creature indeed. So whether I eventually decide to inflict a gentler buzzing sensation, or a nice harsh bolt of lightening, I can be assured of total and utter compliance. This comes in particularly handy when used in conjunction with my remote-controlled Electra-stim device and I just happen to be in Selfridges shoe department with a slave in tow.
With such enthusiasm for, and experience of this medium, the one thing I never expected was for electricity to strike me back. So understandably I blew a personal fuse when my trembling electrician informed me that my dungeon was now without power and would require an extensive rewiring job. After a year of decorating, the news that my poor Palace would now have to be desecrated came as a nasty shock indeed.
There is a sparkling silver lining to this cruel cloud though. This situation has served as a wonderful reminder of my army of amazing slaves. I’ve been spoiled with practical, emotional, artistic and financial support in every way, shape and form. A few candle-lit sessions really aren’t the end of the world, plus you can never have too much molten hot wax to hand. So as the curtains close on 2014, what really matters is this vital opportunity to take stock of what a lucky Mistress I am and also what a momentous year it’s been.
With this in mind, I am now not accepting further bookings until January 2015. I will be back before Christmas though with a little festive tribute to fill you with fetish merriment. How’s that for a serious shot of good karma?
Now listen up, and pay attention,
Here’s an evil tale of intervention,
Sadistic and wicked, yet sexy still,
So wait right here for your spooky fill.
A modern Witch lies in her lair,
Reading Proust and Baudelaire.
This foolish minion, so cock- consumed,
Has annoyed this bitch, and now is doomed!
An example of him this witch will make.
She’ll turn her slave into a snake.
Condemned to forever hiss and wriggle,
So near, so far, it makes her giggle.
She’ll toy with him for eternity,
Tease him most determinedly.
Her sIn-box catches her attention.
This spell-mail demands wicked intervention.
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble….
a Freudian spell will burst his bubble….
And so poor slave slithers south to hide,
Yet staying close to Mistress’ side,
Coils round her snake-skin boots to wait,
And before long meet his same fate!
A lesson learnt, a lesson told,
This modern Witch, she’s so well-soled.
Cage or not, she holds the key,
to pleasure, pain and loyalty.
Well okay, I’m not actually going to Dallas but I will just close enough to necessitate such a winning title. My Cowboy boots and lasso are packed.
I will be working/playing away from 18th-26th October. My phone will be turned off but I will be checking emails intermittently.
Seven days sans Alice – now that’s true torture!
If there’s one thing I love about September, it’s stocking up on new clothes and footwear all ready for the busy, bitchy months ahead. So in true back-to-school style I’ve had a wardrobe overhaul and ordered some shiny new specimens all ready for the new term. Latex lovers, boot sluts and leather whores alike will all be grinning greedily at the prospect of some delectable new additions to my kinky closet.
So what’s been on my shopping list?
A ravishing red latex catsuit courtesy of House of Harlot. My favourite black corseted catsuit has also finally been mended too. Apparently I’m not alone, that pesky ‘right arm tear’ is symptomatic of cane-swinging Mistresses across London.
Two new pairs of knee-high leather boots from Fabulously Fetish – one in black and one in red. 7.5inches of pure heel appeal, perfectly made-to-measure with some serious strutting, stomping, trampling and worship in mind.
Two little latex dresses and a super sexy playsuit which perfectly kiss and cling to my curves.
Two pairs of the softest, smoothest leather gloves (courtesy of my glove slave) from Aspinal. My gloved grip has never been more elegant, insistent, or tenacious.
And as if all this wasn’t enough, my maid/sissy/slut wardrobe has also had a makeover with lots of lovely new outfits, shoes, and lingerie. A stylish Mistress such as myself deserves nothing less than impeccably dressed servants at her side.
Quite the list, I think you’ll agree. But I can assure you all this shopping isn’t just for the fiendish fun of it. I fundamentally believe any self-respecting Mistress must always look the part, setting the standard for sadistic sartorial elegance in the process. And with my sparkling new attire, I shall be dressed to the nines, and hell bent on giving six of the best in the months ahead. Hmm, something tells me my newly-mended catsuit might not last too long…oh well, I’ll survive a tear or two, even if my slaves won’t!