Mistress Vanesa

Ownership/collaring

Mistress Vanesa — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 22:39:31 +0000

I still remember the first time I witnessed a collaring ceremony. I was struck by how much care had been taken by the Dom (male) & his female sub to make their vows to each other speak of love, devotion, ownership and servitude. I also admired the beautiful collar that had been special made for the submissive to wear.

Given my red-headed tempestuousness, I skipped the formality of a ceremony and simply collared my submissive when he was least expecting it. It felt so delicious to wrap that leather collar around his neck as he kneeled at my feet naked, head bowed. I moved around behind him, as I had every intention of padlocking his collar on him and did not want him to see/know/guess about my plans.

I closed the hasp on the collar, slipped the small gold Master brand padlock through the hasp and locked it. I purposely made the click of that lock sound as loud as possible. He was up on his feet, literally running to the door, before he came back to his senses and back to my booted feet.

I let him know in no uncertain terms that I now owned his ass.

I remember, and I remind. I remind him of it to this day. It’s been years and I still remind him frequently as his memory is short. Plus, I admit, keeping his chain short is lots of fun.

The thing I love most about collaring/ownership is that even when the collar cannot be worn everywhere, all the time (such as at work) the emotional sense of owning a devoted submissive IS there all of the time. A most exotic form of pleasure!

My Rubber Worm Bed

Mistress Vanesa — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 18:59:06 +0000

I am so in love with leather, true, and I am also loving the deep pungent smell of rubber as it expands from air pressure and from the heat of the slave trapped inside. The arm binders sewn into each side of this rubber bed makes it impossible for this boy to touch himself, no matter how hard he might try.

The Rubber Torture Bed

The pressure of the air being forced into the rubber bed prevents him from spreading his legs. After awhile, the pressure begins to actually force his thighs together. The 3-way zippers (top and bottom) allow access for my hands to employ various wickedly sharp implements. Additionally, this particular slave has a rather large remote control buttplug shoved up his ass. Can’t say he’s going to be able to do much about that, now can I?

"The Worm"

Remember, as you jack off to this hot fantasy, that it is HOT in that bed, and when I finally pull you out you will be a soaking, dripping, puddle of sweat.

Mistressing

Mistress Vanesa — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 19:38:54 +0000

Stick Men Get Watered

Mistress Vanesa — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 21:39:55 +0000

Before I learned how to write with words I expressed myself with pictures, with art. My mom always made sure I had a big art pad to draw in, no matter how much it cut into our meager food budget. I only got crayons once a year and therefore relied upon #2 pencils the balance of the year to outline the creativity crowded in my head. I drew pictures of everything I saw, including pictures of men peeing. Stick men, holding their penises, the demarcation of pee very clear in them all. I always used a broken line to describe the piss streaming from their cocks. I drew pages upon pages of men taking pisses, and, of course, (no Freud needed here) they were all of my father. Had to be, as I had never seen any other man take a piss. I must have seen him early in the morning, for all of my stick men were naked, as he would have been when I watched him very early in the morning.

I remember laying in the grass in our front yard with my 3 sisters on a lazy hot summer afternoon; I recall vividly that I was between first and second grade. We were all trying to take advantage of what little shade there was under the sole tree in our yard. It did not occur to me to try to hide my peeing stick men from my sisters as we crammed closer and closer together underneath the shade of that tree. It never occurred to me that there might be something “unacceptable” about my artwork. After all, wasn’t my artwork merely a reflection of my world? I did not realize how provacative my art work was until all of my sisters began pawing through the pages of my notebook exclaiming over and over again how they were going to tell on me. “I’m going to tell mommy!” “I’m going to tell daddy!” They grabbed my precious notebook, and with it my delicious fantasies of men holding their cocks in place while they pissed.

I must have been properly punished, as I am, to this day, fascinated with piss play. The play I participate in does not involve a penis being held aloft as it was in my long-ago art. Today, my delicious fantasies of men and piss involve the man being pissed on, with further detail including me being the one doing the pissing. Also, not just pissed on, but pissed in as well. Having his/your mouth pissed in. Ah, yes, for now my stick men are real! They engage in complete compliance to my orders simply for the honor of being allowed to drink my urine. “Lie still!” I love to bark orders and to use my booted foot to move said male body into the exact position I desire. “Don’t move!”

And then to slowly walk up your body, beginning with your feet and moving towards your head, one booted foot on either side of you, letting loose with a stream of hot piss as I reach your groin. As I watch your cock bounce around under my jet of wetness as I slowly continue my walk towards your face. Stopping the flow of urine as I pass up through your torso, letting it loose again only when you have obeyed my order to open your mouth wide for me. To not swallow. And then to squat about 1/2 way down to show off exactly where my fountainhead is as I proceed to fill your mouth to the brim with my pungent pee. I cut off the flow once again and stare into your eyes, also full, then down to your open, full mouth and then up into your eyes one more time. I just love how the fullness of piss in your mouth matches the fullness of the humiliation in your eyes. Do know that I shall be describing out loud to you exactly how aroused I see you being from being pissed on. Do know that I shall be letting you know exactly how fucking perverted I think you are and then order you to swallow, just in case you don‘t believe me. And you do swallow! Humiliation, arousal, piss, humiliation, arousal, piss. My own experience is much simpler: lust, arousal, heat, swollen, hot juice, mastery, pride. Do know that I will next sit all of the way down on your mouth, filling it with the last of my piss, ordering you to lick me clean like a good piece of toilet paper. I am pretty sure you are going to cheat and try to clean up more than just the last few drops of my urine! But I understand how you are put together, and with that knowledge, own you. Quite simply, quite deeply.

Bring me another water-bottle, slave-boy.

~Mistress Vanesa can be reached at phonedomme@gmail.com

Your Sissy-Slut Halloween Guide

Mistress Vanesa — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 18:22:47 +0000

You do realize that we have come upon that time of year when you can buy pretty much anything in the store of feminine ilk and no one will give you a second look. After all, Halloween is upon us! Right now, fetishists, sissy-sluts, french maids and nylon boys, you may find lovely levels of anonymity shopping for your fishnets, or perhaps your cocksucker red lipstick, or panties with matching bra, wigs, false nails, false eyelashes shoes.! Think about it: there is not going to be a cashier in the country (oh, alright, maybe one!) who will look askance at you picking up some false eyelashes, along with eyelash curler and thick black mascara.

Lovin' that Leather!

When you purchase panties and fishnets at Fredericks, there will be nobody there giving you a second look. Walmart, K-Mart, Penney’s and Macy’s are all now safe for shopping forays. Unless, of course, there is a domina such as myself there guiding a sissy-slut through her first exciting round of sexy Halloween shopping. I would most likely be very interested in what you were purchasing!

I thank you for calling in order that we might get you on your path, as I also thank you for allowing me to guide you on a wonderful shopping excursion, sharing detail after detail as you transform. E-mail me @ phonedomme@gmail.com ~MsV!

My Orgasm Alarm Clock

Mistress Vanesa — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 22:55:10 +0000

I have a phone caller who is one of my absolute favorite people. I think this is because he is such a humiliation slut. I get off so much on watching him get off on his own humiliation! The circle always seems so complete with this little piggy-boy. This was made clear to me yesterday, as I was awakened by a dream I was having of this little pee-pee’d piggy, begging to climb aboard my leg for a good hump. OK, ok, it was the ORGASM I had watching his total humiliation that awakened me, not the dream itself! I know he wants the world to know of his being cuckolded; of his wife being in slavery to blacks, and most especially he wants the world to know about how he runs around the room on his hands and knees, squealing like a pig, begging to hump my shin. His squealing never fails to make me wet! During our conversations we talk about how he is a no-good little piggy boy, about how little his pee-pee is getting, and about the specific way his large breasted very pale wife has him cuckolded into accepting her black lover as the proper lover for her. This non-marital relationship has already produced one male child, with a second on the way. I make piggy suck that black cock til it’s nice and hot and wet, then I make him guide it into his wife’s cunt and watch closely for her orgasm(s). Once the very black male is through fucking his wife, the piggy boy cuckold snorts his way through licking and sucking every drop of cum up. The look of total humiliation covering his face . . . ! But you don’t fool me for a second, piggy-boy. That pee-pee of yours may be small, but I see that it is very, very hard, telling me how much you get off on running around like a slut. Turns you on, huh? You are always erect from being forced to watch closely as a black man breeds your pale wife. You beg, you whimper, all the time so hard. Well, little piggy-boy, the dream I had of you desperately begging for permission to hump my leg was hot. Just typing this makes me all hot and bothered again! I especially liked the part where I allowed you to do it, bringing your beautiful wife close. I want her to miss nothing as she joins me in watching her piggy husband be so excited about being allowed to hump and squeal. I could see you staring at her pale breasts, the oversized ones with the blue veins threading through them. Yes, they ARE even bigger due to her pregnancy, but you milk slut, that does not mean you will have any, no matter how hard you beg. Maybe tonight I will dream of milking her full titties, of making them squirt, of allowing our black friend to catch it in his open mouth, while you are completely denied. But for today I shall enjoy this glow between my legs from dreaming of your total complete humiliation as you were finally completely exposed to your horrified wife for the fucking pig that you are. I doubt you will ever be fucking her again. I look forward to enjoying another wake-up orgasm soon . . . body limp, brain disengaged, simply awakening and yet not moving, as I feel my orgasm climb, my cunt muscles contracting. There now, see little piggy-boy? Why I never allow you to touch? Who needs you to be touching my perfect body when I can cum just by having hot, sexy dreams? I look forward to your next call, when we discuss the next stage of your debauchery. ~MsV

Yet one more use for the hitachi wand

Mistress Vanesa — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 17:57:53 +0000

I have always loved my hitachi wand, from the very first day I received it. I have thoroughly enjoyed my “wand” in many differing ways. Recently I discovered another evil use for it: place sweet submissive in leather sleepsack, making certain hands are restrained in the inner sleeves properly. Zip each of the 3 zippers completely closed. Turn hitachi wand onto low speed, applying it in a circular motion to the encased and very aroused cock. Lift it off everytime it appears that an orgasm might be forthcumming; replace it once the intensity of the impending orgasm subsides. I encourage everybody to enjoy experimenting! ~V

Fireworks!!!

Mistress Vanesa — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 17:20:29 +0000

Call me and tell me about the fireworks you experienced on the 4th of July and I’ll tell you what I was up to!

Gratitude

Mistress Vanesa — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 05:31:54 +0000

Having been born & raised in a big-time baseball family, naturally I tuned in to my Red Sox as my way to start my day. (Yes, 10:30AM game.) I watched the moving ceremony put on in Fenway Park to honor all those who serve. It doesn’t matter which branch of the service you are in, the Red Sox family just moves you right on in. The gentleman who had the honor of tossing in the first pitch was one who had incurred serious battle wounds as well as the loss of 19 comrades, all in one night. He received an emergency trach on the field to save his life. I watched how he held his body, straight and proud, and yet I could also see how he held his arm to toss the pitch.

How do we ever repay any of these vets, truly?

Then I got to thinking about his wife, helping him through numerous, serious, surgeries, waiting up at nights worried, dispensing medication every 4 hours around the clock, applying ice, helping with physical therapy and THEN she gets to go spend time with her son.

My first husband lost both of his arms discovering that the Chinese really were at the 38th Parallel. No helicopters. He was brought off the battlefield on a tank. His whole life changed, including his sex life. I had never heard of amputee sex until I met him~incredible!

Oh, off topic as it gets later and later into the evening.

Basically, I just wanted to express my gratitude to those who have given so very, very much.

Thank you and happy celebration of this 4th of July!

The Last Time I Thanked Someone

Mistress Vanesa — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 16:41:29 +0000

Just this morning. I had the opportunity to thank my brother once again for being my tour guide in San Francisco. Did you know that Gay Pride just celebrated it's 40th year? I so adored all the off-beat places he took me to, was happy to watch a Red Sox/Giant game, to shop for fetish leather/nylon/shoes/clothes during this exciting week-end. I must say though, my favorite part was being at the side of the contingent that calls itself "Dykes on Bikes" while we were all waiting for the parade to begin. What a celebration of spirit! Such sexy submissives perched on the back of each motorcycle, dressed in all of their finery. And such power of all those bikes starting up at once, as one. Perhaps next year will work for you too, in terms of your availability to attend! ~V