Live Performance “Tryst @ Little Red Studio 05/2010” from Twisted Monk on Vimeo.

Twisted Monk’s website.  And on Twitter.

He’s a genius.  A motherfucking sexy genius.

Good boy:

:::whimper:::

Yes, my mistress, goddess, and muse, I play the part you find suitable for me, perform for your pleasure, endure your whims, and succumb to your desires.

Where you lead I will follow, where you send me I will fly, and where you plant me I will flourish.

I am yours to use, lend, or store, and to those with whom you would share me I will bend my knee, will, and virtue.

As well as being the title of Elise Sutton’s well-received book, Female Domination is rapidly becoming the sex du jour for an ever-increasing number of mainstream couples. Along with other out-of-the-closet carnal intimacies such as fetishes (feet & toes, nylons, leather, smoking), homosexuality (Shhh! Don’t tell the Tea Party), masturbation (mutual and solo), strap-on sex (Surely, dear female reader, you knew this?), and the widely embraced metrosexual phenomenon (Google “sissy” or “feminization” or “panty boy.” I dare you.), the male desire to surrender control to an erotically powerful woman is no longer the “dirty little secret” it once was.

Being currently and ever so blissfully immersed in Ms. Sutton’s book (my second time around, it’s such a good read), and having a certain proclivity toward Dominant Phone Sex, I find this to be a singularly delicious expansion of the ever-evolving sex games boys and girls like to play. In other words, this is not your father’s phone sex! In fact, this is not even your father’s (or even your mother’s, Goddess forbid!) wet dream! The playing field has not only been leveled, but, irrevocably, skewed. And the allure of that sexy umpire-ess ordering you, a lowly bat boy, to crawl to third base and kiss her leather boots, is just too intoxicating to resist.

While I would never lay claim to being an expert in human sexuality, I am in the business of creating fantasy. More than occasionally I not only find myself with a front row seat from which to purview the conventional and not-so-conventional desires of the submissive male but am the privileged Phone Mistress who will mind-fuck him into subspace. Submissive men come in all shapes and sizes and flavors and perversions.

What I find so delightfully disarming about these exquisite creatures is that they are –nine times out of ten– men of serious substance and quiet dignity. I can always count on them to be polite, congenial, accommodating, quick-witted, and downright, intoxicatingly clever. These men, over-all, are a sweet breath of fresh air. They have no hidden agendas. They dwell confidently and authoritatively in their every day and relatively well-balanced lives. And it is, indeed, a good life: Fulfilling, successful, accomplished–perhaps, even self-actualized. In fact, if we daughters had been raised by fathers like these, there would be no need for Jungian therapists, motivational gurus, self-help books, or Twelve Step recovery programs.

And, therein, beloved Kinksters, lies the rub! When one is perceived as “in charge” in his everyday life, where does he go to find that sexual rapture that only can be realized when we give up control? While, courtesy of the Internet, we are all experiencing an expanding sexual consciousness (even if to simply know, “you are not alone”), the submissive male has somewhat of a quandary on his hands. Most likely he has presented himself to his inamorata as, at the very least, a vanilla lover, and even more likely, an aggressive one.

After all, that is what is expected of the “normal” man, right? While he and the rest of us are realizing that our nasty secret desires are neither as nasty nor secret as we once thought, he finds himself unable to bring this au courant flavor to the sexual table he, himself, has set. How does he tell his dinner partner (Perhaps, his cherished wife of 10 or 20 years?) that his palate now craves spicier fare?

I often tell my submissive callers that they are really just romantics on steroids. Even after a lifetime of pursuing, courting, loving, fucking, and perhaps marrying women, a man continues to be both perplexed and enamored with the ever-illusive Feminine Mystique. Not to torture a cliche’, but as has been the case since Eve bewitched Adam (Honestly, how much sweet-talk do you really think it took?) into eating her forbidden fruit, women have been dragging men around by their dicks.

This really isn’t anything new; its just been “super-sized,” so to speak. Even in a situation where the guy is supposedly the dominant, let’s not fool ourselves, ladies and gentlemen. If his lady friend does not concede to dressing in evocative slut-wear, painting her lips cock-sucking red, donning the proverbial ball gag, and submitting to a bit of elaborate rope binding (not to mention some delicious bottom spanking), “Master” is not going to have an orgasm anytime in the foreseeable future.

There are as many variations to the D/s (Domination/submission) relationship as there are enthusiasts. This is the party of the season, and it seems everybody from the bootblack (male) to the CEO (female) has shown up. So here we are, all at the same party, just wearing different party hats. From the sensually sublime to the viscerally extreme, name your poison: Body worship, face sitting, bondage, forced feminization, cock and ball torture (cbt), orgasm denial & control, cuckolding, erotic hypnosis & mind control, humiliation (verbal &/or public), objectification, and more.  So very much more.

Wallflower type? Looking for a little objectification? Grab your dick, take a seat, and don’t you dare move a muscle! So you think you’re the life of the party and wanna be Mistress’s party favor? Dangle that pretty pink lampshade over your head and jump up on the coffee table for some contemptuous browbeating while you squeal like a pig.

What? You’re looking for the buffet? Right over here, darling! Now, put your head back and Mistress will just take a seat right here on your face. Mmmm. Yes, it is a nice spread!

And you? You say you’re not a guest, that you’re the pinata? Oh! They’re waiting for you in the dungeon. Just crawl down those stairs and around the corner. That’s right. Follow the smell of leather. No, it won’t hurt much.

Not much into parties? More of the homebody type?

Well….

If you have been a reasonably well-behaved partner in the course of a long-term relationship and think your ladylove is ready to meet the new & improved submissive you, you might want to start with some user-friendly (pun intended!) reading material. Elise Sutton’s book, Female Domination, is an excellent starting point. Because the author practices the FemDom lifestyle (she is married to her submissive) and regularly counsels female-dominant couples (her educational background is in psychology), the material she presents is backed by both personal and professional experience.

Giving readers an intimate, firsthand peek into the everyday lives of “normal” couples who just so happen to be ardent practitioners of Female Domination, she presents an eloquent argument for the logic of the female-dominant relationship. Combining passionate commentary with a quiet spiritualism, Elise shares her personal history and evolution, examines the continuing social trend toward female empowerment, and explores the psychological “rightness” of male submission. This is a book from an intelligent heart that will speak to you and your lady’s emotions, intellect, and (keep your fingers crossed!) libido.

Need I say more? Now, go buy that book before I have to bitch-slap you!

The Mistress Poem

Chi Chi Valenti

What is your interest in female domination?
A leather-clad goddess whom I might worship and serve, ma’am.
Full leather is available, if certain terms are understood in advance
Yes mistress
You are not permitted to touch the mistress above the knee
Yes, mistress
The bare foot may or may not be offered
Yes mistress
The mistress does not disrobe at any time in the session
Of course, mistress
The mistress will never touch you there
Of course not, mistress
A tribute must be offered from a suitable kneeling position
Yes mistress
You will surrender all individual will from the time the session begins
Oh yes mistress
You will be branded irrevocably with her will and possibly marked for life
Yes mistress
You will spend hours and weekends desparate in Jersey shopping malls, dreaming of her graceful booted foot while you try to ignore your wife’s pastel sneakers
You honor me, mistress
You will search for her in Meat Market sex clubs, taunted by her cruel sorority sisters
Yes, mistress
You will appear early for your appointment and she will make you wait in her dressing room, listening to unspeakable cries and jealous of the slave "Can he take more than I?"
Oh, thank you mistress
You will phone her for reassurance, starved for her voice and she will be colder than January on East 23rd Street
Oh, yes, mistress
You will phone her again, desparate and broken, trembling long-distance and she won’t even take your call
Oh, yes mistress
Then you’ll phone someone else, somewhere else, and even show up but you’ll leave in ten minutes after paying for the hour cause the boots weren’t right and the room wasn’t right and her junkie perfume just wasn’t in there, not that night, anyway
Oh, yes, mistress
Then back in her good graces you’ll rob your own children to take her shopping at Joseph’s and Manic Panic
Oh yes mistress
And she’ll make you buy an expensive gift for your wife, fifty dollar Chanel soaps, three of them, as you gulp imagining presenting such extravagance to the Missus
Oh thank you, mistress
Then every time you see a Chanel ad you’ll begin to tremble again, a slave’s palsy, remembering her cruel laughter and how the sissy counter clerk seemed to be laughing with her too
Oh yes, mistress
Your mind so far gone at this point that you imagine him her houseboy and wonder if she’d like you more in drag
Do you think she would, mistress?
Your mind so far gone at this point that you fantasize cutting off your dick and having lesbian sex with her
If that is her wish, mistress
Your mind so far gone at this point that you who used to vomit at two queers holding hands are now getting buggered quite regularly
Oh yes, mistress
Your mind once so sure of priorities and deep, personal politics, now scheming only for money to see her more often
Your mind that once spoke fluent French and remembered stock prices
Your mind that breathlessly pushes the eighth floor button
Your mind that once longed to free Nelson Mandella
Now running to the slave boat, as eager for the leg-irons as for the mulatto mistress who wields them
Your mind that she has exquisitely altered
Your mind a ruined city, the streets overrun with wolves and she it’s mad emperor
Your mind that’s her chattel now
Enslaved at last, enslaved at last
Thank god almighty
Enslaved at last

_________________________________________________

A bio of Ms Valenti can be found HERE.

pssst.  secret code:  2TQJQCFB6MHR