Naked head

We're so close, aren't we? Just days away from the presents, the family, and oh god the lovely warmth and anxiety our kin can bring. I let it sneak up on Me, act like I'm really not concerned, then Christmas Eve, I'm sentimental and sappy.

And here's a strange trend - I heard recently that winter is death's favorite season. Something along the lines of people being 4 times more likely to die during the holiday season.

Ho fucking Ho, eh?

I considered a long hike today, while listening to a podcast of Marc Maron (comedian, www.wtfpod.com), however it looks like it's barely going to bust 40 degrees F, and you know what? It's fucking Christmas. Exercise is overrated.

Today's unusual fetish call came from a young man who craved feminization. But wait, there's more. He wants to be a bald woman. We talked for nearly 30 minutes about shaving his head, using scissors, then his Norelco triple blade, then topping it off with a nice Nair treatment. Perhaps a layer of Coco Butter, before of course drugging him, and letting him wake up tied down, under a pink canopy bed, with double D breast implants.

I'd create images of the breasts, the nipples, his sweet nether regions, but the thing that made this boy moan and whimper the loudest? Shaving off that noggin of his.

Ah, My sweet little freaks, bless you.

You're about to be stuffed

Well, aren't we all? Thanksgiving is just about here... everyone's doing the travel plans, ordering the food. Hells bells, last Thanksgiving I gained 5-10 pounds over the winter holidays. Then here comes January, and I start working it off. Strange how the new year gives you an excuse to work your ass off. Seems we all hibernate this time of year, and emerge with the need to feel strong and feisty!

I remember last January, I started walking into town, listening to My fave podcasts, talk radio, Marc Maron, NPR, etc... 15 miles a week, minimum. Then the weather warms in March, bringing My craving for the burn of running. Started at 10 miles a week, then worked up to 15. I'm such a hard toned badass 9-10 months of the year. Then here comes winter, and feasting the harvest... there we go, cocoon and munch.

Rhythm. Can be a good thing.

I may be travelling (plans still morphing), although I'll be taking calls Thanksgiving weekend. Maybe we'll talk turkey, while I stuff unimaginable things right up your... *cough

Remind Me to tell you about the beer bottle, the condom, a bottle full of whisky, and a drunk midwestern boy with an account full of cash....

Kissing Carradine

HEY, NEW PHOTOS! I took them with a little man locally, showing off some leather restraints and the like. We were having a cup of coffee in My back yard, and he was extra excited because he'd received a set of bondage gear, recently made by a leather worker we both know. Impromptu like, I set up My digital camera and tripod, and the results are included here. A shout out to slave licious for being a good guinea pig! I'll be spiffing up My Niteflirt pages with a few shots, soon! Contact Me if you'd like more information on the leather work!


And on to the next…

Recently saw the movie, "Smart People", with Dennis Quaid and Ellen Page. Good movie, with a strong cast of actors! My only main complaint was the bludgeon-your-ears-with-constant-loud-music soundtrack.

I remember hearing Keith Carradine discuss this trend, on a DVD commentary track for Deadwood (which, as I tangentalize ad infinitum, is one of My very very favorite series ever). To paraphrase, Carradine discussed how utterly awful films will sometimes overwhelm an audience, using a soundtrack which instructs them how to feel. This ploy typically compensates for poor screenwriting and bad acting.

In contrast, Deadwood barely had any soundtrack. Didn't need it. Every cast member was gifted, spot on, and worthy of worship. Well, that's My opinion!

Back to "Smart People" – My fave moment in the film was Dennis Quaid's first kiss with Sarah Jessica Parker. Quaid plays a college professor who's a bitter curmudgeon, after the death of his wife, and slowly warms when Parker takes an interest in him. Their kiss on her couch… He skulks up like some plodding animal, accustomed to the dark, then grabs her, lands so hard and deft on her lips…

THAT …. That is how you kiss a woman. Your whole body rushing behind a set of lips that knows what it's doing. Mistress used rewind a few times on that one….

A witness to your use

I've a regular caller who brings his strange feelings to Me, and yes I indulge him. It has much to do with worship of Women and their beauty, inversely. He worships feet, and more specifically… bunions. Women's bunions.

I've chatted about this boy before, however tonight I was a bit more self aware than I tend to be. Mostly because, Mistress is getting closer to a real time submissive male, and I may be inviting him into My home.

I walked through what it might be like to have this submissive man near Me, listening, watching, while I talk with My phone slaves. To be honest, in the 3 years I've made My living while exploiting the likes of you… I have yet to let anyone witness Me working.

Our privacy, until this point, has been ensured. And I have boundaries, clear boundaries in My mind. I'd never let him listen while a phone slave served, unless of course the caller found that intriguing.

Tonight I lay on My sheets, eyes closed, a blanket wrapped around My waist and down through My legs. The rest barely covered by and a thin cotton dress. Bunion boy can get rather ecstatic while we converse. Moaning, crying. Sometimes our energy pops right out the phone, because it's a worshipful, spiritual Zen kind of thing. We're deep in the groove, humiliating him, exploiting his inferiority. I'm chasing him like an animal, a panther, forcing him deeper, listening to him sob, while giggling through his demise.

Tonight I felt My hips bucking, feet sliding over the sheets, writhing while we chanted deeper into this darkness. I wondered - while I talked about very lewd things, knees spread, speaking so harshly, spitefully mean to this crawling bunion boy… if this other sub male who may share My bed, might find himself utterly captivated.

I'll … keep you posted.