My long love of cuckholds by Claudia Typhoon

I have always, my whole damn life, exhibited behviours becoming of a Domina. when I started dating I found that a charming and beautiful lady such as myself was never short of admirers. I've always had several "boyfriends" at a time, and find that it made me excited and aroused to tell my boyfriends what I was doing with other boys. I was a beautiful girl with a healthy appetite to explore as much or as little flesh as I liked. not many men I have been with were happy with my sharing. it made me sad and I never felt like I was doing anything wrong; either in the acts or sharing what I had done. when I became a pro-Domme and learned of cuckholds it was a revelation. men that were excited, aroused, most happy when I did as I pleased sexually and better yet shared with them?! be still my heart! I've had fantasies for years about having children with men of different ethnicity and having a partner that would love each as is own. of a man that would lavish me with gifts and care for me, ready me for dates with other men. bind a man in the closet or under the bed as I'm fucked for hours. dressing a man as a woman and thrusting my cock between his pretty red lips, watching him suck my lover's cock, taking my cock in his pussy, keep him in chastity as long as I desire and so on and so on. now it is my goal to turn every man into the cuckhold of my dreams.

date with a cucky by Claudia Typhoon

I had the most wonderful date with a cuckhold. I was pretending to be his wife, it was our anniversary you see. I met him at the bar and he was kind enough to to bring my rings that I so carelessly "left at home". he also brought a perfume that I said I had wanted. such a good listener my "husband" is. after some chit-chat and drinks we checked into our room at a very lovely hotel near central park. we went back to the bar and contemplated dinner as we plied each other with affection, laughter and sweet nothings. I asked my darling cucky for a twenty to tip the bartender with. I wanted to make sure that when my beautiful bull came to the bar that the drink that he wanted was ready for him without asking and that it be put on my "hubby's" tab. I excitedly talked to my cuck about him, the power of his thrust, the beauty of his form and so on. shortly after my bull arrived, my cucky excused himself to go to the men's room and as soon as he left, I waved my lover over and instantly covered him in kisses. My "husband" came back, confused as to why I was being affectionate with another man. I instructed him to take his wine to the bar and I would order dinner for him and that he would eat it alone at the bar. he resigned himself to this as I dined with my lover and had a splendid time. we laughed, fed each other and kissed as my cucky miserably ate nearby. when my love and I had finished and I wanted his cock inside me, I sent the check to my "husband", telling him to go pick up condoms for me and bring them to the room. meanwhile, my lover and I went upstairs, getting undressed and getting worked up while I waited for my cuckhold to arrive. he brought the magnums I requested to the room, I gave him a kiss with lips that were just on my lover's cock and told him to go home and think of me while I am fucked for hours in a room meant for us two. he smiled and went home. My lover and I spend hours wrapped up in each other and I was incredibly aroused knowing that a kind and generous man wanted nothing more than to be tormented by my being pleased by another man. in the morning after my bull left, I had my "husband" come over to massage me awake and then as I dressed, instructed him to roll about in the bed I had been having sex in all night and smell the sheets. he was humbled by this and groveled at my feet, kissing and thanking me. what a lovely man, cuckhold and servant.

"horse feathers" by Ward Picklesimer for Claudia Typhoon

           It was another cold, winter’s night on the old farm.  I was just a young boy who barely understood any of his surroundings.  I couldn’t have been more than fifteen-years-old I’d say.  My mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner and I was sitting in front of the fireplace, doing my best to keep warm on such a frigid evening.  All of the sudden, my father barged in the front door soaking wet, but it had not rained that night.  Mother stormed in the living room and screamed at father.

“What the hell Leonard?!  You stink like old  horse pussy!”  She said.

 My father’s eyes exploded and he yelled back at her.

“Well that God damn horse came all over me!”  He said.

“Are you serious?  How dare that horse soak my husband with her feminine spray!  Only I get to do that!”  She said with the obvious tone of jealousy in her voice.

 “I can’t help it!  I went in the stable to feed her and she was pleasuring herself with her own hoof!  Next thing ya know, I was drenched in piping-hot horse come!”  Father said.

I could not believe what I was hearing, nor did I really understand it at the time.  It sounded like father was baptized in magical, horse rain from the heavens.  However, it did not actually come from the heavens, but from our horse Lucinda.  Later that evening, we sat in silence at the supper table and we exchanged very uncomfortable glances with one another.  Father was still quite wet and he was shoveling food in his mouth whilst crying enough tears to drown an epileptic turkey that’s been trapped under an outhouse for the past ten days.   Mother decided she couldn’t take it anymore and ran off to the bedroom sobbing. 

“You should just kill that horse with a rusty old hammer!  That’s what Pa would have done!”  She screamed as she slammed the door.

Father got up and ran outside while still cramming biscuits in his mouth that were sopped with the sad gravy of his tears. 

“Why do you test us so Lord?! What have we done to deserve such cruel, cruel punishment?!”  He said as ran out of the front door while crying those hot, butter tears. 

    I went to bed that night with my head spinning full of questions.  What exactly was this horse rain and why did it bring my folks so much grief?  Would things ever be normal again?  Only time would tell.

                The next morning I woke up and no one was in the living room.  I looked out of the window to find that Lucinda was running around the yard just as vibrant and alive as could be.  Watching her run around like that made me feel like my innards were made out of bubble-wrap.  I tried to maintain my composure, but some undeniable force was exploding inside of me.  I looked down to find that my boy-dong was as sharp as an arrowhead and piercing clean through my long johns.  It was a sensation that was so completely foreign to me.  Then it felt like a ghost guided my hand towards crotch town and pulled out my four-inch beacon of the devil for all to see.   I began stroking it frantically and next thing you know, a great river flowed from my beacon and drenched the coffee table that stood before me.  My grandpa stormed into the living room and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“You little bastard!  You came all over the Werther’s Originals!  How dare you!  Only I get to do that!”  Grandpa said.

“I’m sorry grandpa!  I don’t know what came over me!” I said.

“Oh I know what it was!  You’re giving into your carnal desires!  I suppose you’re about the age where you start getting the urges, but unloading your gonads on hard candy is just for grown-ups!  You should know better than that boy!”  He said.

“I don’t know what to tell you grandpa!  Honest!  I didn’t mean to!” I told him.

“Oh you didn’t mean to huh?  Why I’m so mad I could kill a horse with a hammer!  Just like in the old days!”  He said as grabbed a come-drenched hammer off of the coffee table and ran outside towards the stable. 

I chased after him and begged him not to harm Lucinda. 

“No grandpa!  Don’t hurt her!  She didn‘t do anything!” I shouted.

“I don’t care!  I’m mad as hell and this horse is gonna die for it!  That’s just how it works boy!”  He said.

He ran into the stable and lifted his hammer to strike Lucinda, but as he was about to thrash her, she sprayed him with a mighty tidal wave of horse rain.  He washed back towards me and coughed up some of the pungent horse juice. 

“Sweet Filipino Jesus in a Chinese Fire Drill!  That damn horse just came a river!  I’m gonna kill her if it’s the last thing I do!” He said as he reached for his hammer that was on the ground.

I felt it was my duty to protect sweet Lucinda so I stomped on grandpa’s hand and picked up the hammer.  He looked up at me with trepidation and begged me to release him.

“What are you doing boy?  You gotta let me up so I can kill that damn horse!”  He said.

“No grandpa!  I ain’t gonna let you hurt her!  I’m sorry, but this is for your own good!” I said as I began thrashing him with the hammer.

“Ahhh!!!  Please stop!  You’ve gone mad boy!  Someone help!  Please!” He yelled as I bashed his head in.

I dropped the hammer and began balling my eyes out.  As I was sobbing, the horse spoke to me.

“Oh thank you, kind boy!  Thank you for saving me from that gall-dang lunatic!”  Lucinda said.

“My God!  You can talk!  You truly are magical!” I said.

“I guess you could say that!  I’ve admired you from my stable for a long time.  I have just discovered the wonders of my own body and from the looks of it, so have you.”  She said grinning through her big, old horsey teeth.

“Oh I guess you saw me through the window earlier, huh?” I said.

“Hot damn I did and it got me all hot and bothered!  Luckily I was able to pop one off just as your grandpa was about to kill me with that hammer!”  She said.

“I’m so sorry about that.  He came from a different time when that sort of thing was acceptable.”  I said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about them days.  Why legend has it that my grand-pappy and my grandma were killed by John Henry himself!”  She said.

“No way!” I said with a glare in me eyes.

“That’s what my pappy told me and he was a honest horse too!  He said John Henry was on a three-day bender and was trying to build a train track out of horse bones!  My granny and grand-pappy gladly gave their lives to help construct the dog food railroad as Mr. Henry called it!  And he killed them the only way he knew how!  With his mighty hammers of steel!”  She said. 

“That was beautiful!  You sure have a way with words Lucinda!”  I said.

“Why thank you partner!  I do my best.  Someday I hope to get a degree in public speaking.  Wouldn’t that be somethin’?”  She said.

“Hot dang, I think it would Ms. Lucinda!  Hot dang!”  I said.

“Well, you should get back now and wash all that blood off your hands.  I’ll dig a hole for your grandpa here so no one ever finds out about our little secret.”  She said.

“Ok!  I hope I get to see you again soon!”  I said.

“You sure will boy!  You sure will!”  She said as she winked at me.

                I ran back in the house to find that mother was cleaning up the mess I had  made earlier.  She looked up at me and saw that there was blood on my hands.

“My God!  What have you done?!”  She said

“Oh Mama!  It was awful!  I…  I was out in the stable where I ran into grandpa and…  He begged me to kill him with a hammer!”  I said while sobbing.

“Ewww, gross!  How could you?”  She said.

“I had no choice!  He said he’d kill me if I didn’t do it!”  I said.

“Well, that sounds like him alright.  He tried to get me to kill him once too, but I then flashed him and he forgot all about it.”  She said.

“I’m so sorry mama!  I didn’t want to!”  I said as I embraced her.

“There, there.  It’s alright.  This will be our little secret.  Did you bury the body?”  She said.

“Yeah, I did.  No one will ever find him!”  I said.

“That’s good boy.  Run along and wash up now.  Your Pa will be done plowing in a couple of hours.”  She said.

“Alright mama.  I love you!”  I said.

“I love you too sweetheart.”  She said as she patted my back with her reassuring hand.

I felt bad  for lying to her about why I killed grandpa, but I knew she would never believe what actually happened.  It would be a dark secret that I would have to live with for the rest of my days.

                After I was done washing-up, I heard a man’s voice coming from my mother’s room.  It wasn’t my father’s voice, but it sounded vaguely familiar.  I peeked through the keyhole on mother’s door and saw that it was none other than the legendary Captain Roast Beef Face.  Everyone called him that because his face was all mangled-up something fierce.  Rumor has it that he used to be a really successful door to door sales man and he went by a different moniker.  They say he used to have the most handsome, shiny face you ever saw.  In fact, they used to call him Captain Vaseline Face on the count of his face being so smooth and glimmering.  The story goes that he was at a woman’s house one day, doing a demonstration and he decided to put some moves on her.  He was supposed to be a real lady’s man, but that was sadly his greatest weakness.  The woman’s husband came home while Captain Vaseline Face was in the middle of giving her the pounding of her life all over the dining room table.  Her husband then grabbed Vaseline Face by the throat and dragged him into the kitchen where he proceeded to beat him mercilessly.   The man of the house was said to be a butcher and had some of his equipment set up in his home.  He pulled Vaseline Face by his hair and turned on his automated slicer he used for cutting sandwich meats.  Vaseline Face begged for his life, but it was no use.  The man placed Vaseline Face’s head in the slicer and cut off his nose, his ears, and lacerated his face until it was completely unrecognizable.  It was from that moment forth he was to be known as Captain Roast Beef Face and forced into hiding for the rest of his life.  He was truly hideous to behold, but my mother was there caressing his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him.   I guess rumors of his love still held true amongst the female populous of our small town.  He said the most vile things to her when I was spying on them.

“Oh yeah, baby.  I wanna slap you in the face with my cock and leave a big, greasy stain on your cheek.”  He said.

“Oh, Captain Roast Beef Face!  You sure know how to talk to a lady!”  Mother said.

“Yeah, I haven’t bathed in years.  I got a bad case of dead fish balls if you catch my drift.”  He said.

I could smell him through the keyhole alright.  I choked down some vomit as I watched them necking with each other.  It made me sad to see that mother was having an affair, but I knew that father probably wasn’t able to tend to her needs on the count of what had happened the night before.  Still, I didn’t know how she could even bear to have relations with someone so repulsive and ungodly.   By the time he unzipped his pants, I couldn’t hold in my vomit any longer.  The stench alone was enough to gag a maggot.  Captain Roast Beef Face heard me throwing up and he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Who the hell is that?”  He said as he pulled a knife out of his pocket.

I backed away from the door as he kicked it open.  I laid on the floor in sheer terror and begged him not to harm me.

“I’m sorry sir!  I didn’t see anything!  By the way, your fly is open!”  I said while trembling.

“Oh, that’s funny kid!  Why were you right against the door then, huh?  I got a mind to slice you up good!”  He said as he held up his knife.

“No Roast Beef Face!  Please don’t hurt him!  He’s my only boy!”  Mother said.

“You shut your hole woman!  I’ll do what I God damn please!  I don’t like people spyin’ on me!  I especially don’t like little liars!”  He said while snarling.

“Mister Roast Beef Face, I promise I didn’t see anything!  Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone you were ever here!”  I said.

“You’re damn right you won’t!  I’ll make sure of that myself!  Stand up boy!  Let me get a good look at you!”  He said.

I stood up with tears in my eyes while he pointed his knife at me.

“What do you think of my knife boy?”  He asked.

“It’s a real nice one sir.  Looks awful sharp.”  I said.

“Oh, you bet it is boy!  You bet it is!  Why don’t you do me a favor and lick this here knife for me?”  He said.

“Ok sir.  Just don’t hurt me.”  I said as I began licking his knife while crying.

“That’s right.  Lick that knife good boy.  How does it taste?”  He asked.

“It tastes pretty good actually.”  I said. 

It was in all honesty the best knife I ever tasted.  I never thought I would ever say that sentence in my life, but that truly was the finest-tasting knife I ever put in my mouth.

“I know boy.  I know.  So do you like watching your mama with strange men?”  He said.

“No sir!  I didn’t mean nothin’!  I swear!”  I said.

“Why don’t you pull your little pecker out for me?”  He said.

“What?  Are you serious?”  I asked as I saw mother crying behind him.

“You bet your ass I’m serious boy!  Whip it out!”  He said while holding his knife to my face.

I unzipped my pants to unveil my boy-dong once more.  He laughed at me while starring my little baby slug of a wiener. 

“That is hilarious!  Are you fucking kidding me?  Aren’t you in high school by now?”  He said.

“Yes sir!  I can’t help it!  It runs in the family!”  I said.

“Well it won’t matter much longer.  I think I might just cut it off for you.  How does that sound?”  He asked.

“Oh please, no sir!  I beg you!”  I exclaimed.

“I don’t know… Tell me son, do you like sports?”  He said.

“Yes!  Yes I do sir!”  I said.

“What is your favorite sport then?”  He asked.

“Baseball sir!”  I said.

“Oops!  Wrong answer!”  He said as he sliced my wang clean off.

I screamed in agony as he ran out of the house.  Mother chased after him crying.

“How could you?!  Call me later, Captain Roast Beef Face!”

I laid there face down in a puddle of my own blood.  Mother picked up the phone to call an ambulance and then everything went black.

                When I came to, I was laying in a hospital bed where mother was sitting next to me.  She was still crying with her head in her hands.

“Why are you crying mama?”  I said.

“Oh, Sweet Filipino Jesus!  You’re awake!  I’m so sorry this happened to you!”  She said.

“It’s alright mama.  Maybe it’s for the best.  Heck, if I was allowed to play with sharp objects, I might have just de-wangified myself.  That old boy-dong of mine sure has got me in a heap a trouble today.”  I said.

“Don’t say that!  None of this is your fault!”  She said.

“I’m afraid it is Ma.  You see, I didn’t kill Grandpa because he asked me to.  In fact, he was trying to kill Lucinda with a hammer because I came all over his prized candy dish.”  I said.

“Oh no!  Not the Werther’s Originals!”  She said.

“That’s right Ma.  So I killed him to protect Lucinda.  I’m sorry for lying to you and spying on you with Captain Roast Beef Face.  I deserve this” I said.

“No son!  You don’t deserve any of it!  Besides, if not for Lucinda you might not have pulled through!”  She said.

“What do you mean by that?”  I asked.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”  She said.

Mother moved the curtain on my right side to reveal Lucinda lying in a hospital bed.  She was connected to a respirator and she seemed like she was on her last limb.

“Lucinda!  What are you doing here?  What happened to you?”  I screamed.

“Aw shucks partner!  It was the least I could do!  They weren’t able to save your ding-dong, so I told them you could have my parts.”  She said while coughing.

“No!  Lucinda!  I can’t live without you!  Everyone must know of your great gift to the world!”  I said.

“Oh, but they will boy.  See you’ve got the best part of me.  Now I need you to share it with everyone.”  She said.

“I don’t know how I could ever repay you!”  I said.

“Well, there is one thing.  My last wish is to be washed down the river.”  She said.

“What do you mean by that?”  I asked.

“I want you to water board me with your Super Soaker Horse Vagina!”  She said.

“I don’t know what to say Lucinda.  I’ll miss you so much.”  I said with teary eyes. 

“It’s okay boy.  I’m going to a better place.  You know what you have to do now.”  She said.

  I stood up from my bed and caressed the horse feathers on the back of her neck.  I kissed her on the nose and then proceeded to climb on top of her.  I stood at the end of her bed and gave my new, throbbing grapefruit-sized horse clitoris a little tickle.  Before I knew it, I screamed with rapture as a monsoon of horse juice came gushing out of me and blasted Lucinda clean out of the window, three floors down to where she landed hoofs up in a dumpster.  I began crying and then I heard a familiar voice running up behind me.

“Son!  Are you okay?” Father said.

“Pa!  Hey!  You got to see this.”  I said as I unleashed another tidal wave of horse rain upon him.

The force was so great that it knocked him down and he began shouting with joy.

“Hot damn!  What a rush!  I’m so proud of you son!”  He said.

We all shared a laugh for a moment and then we started hearing harp music.  We looked out the window and saw Lucinda in the clouds with brilliant, gold light shining behind her.

“Hey y’all!  Looks like you folks are in business here.  I trust you’ll be using your new powers for good!”  She said.

“I sure will Lucinda!  Thank you for bestowing such a great gift upon me!”  I said.

“Oh, t’aint no trouble at all boy!  The pleasure is all mine!  Hey guess who else is up here with me?”  She said as grandpa walked up next to her.

“Grandpa!  It’s so good to see you!  Sorry I had to kill you and all!”  I said

“Don’t you worry about that boy!  Now that I know you were protecting such a marvelous creature, I am honored that you killed me!  Heaven is beautiful!  I got to meet John Henry up here and it turns out he liked killing horses too!  And contrary to popular belief, John Henry is actually white.”  Grandpa said.

“Well, that makes sense.  If he wasn’t white, they probably wouldn’t let him into heaven in the first place.”  Father said.

“Mmm hmm.  I know that’s right.”  Mother said.

“I’ll miss both of you so much!  I hope you’ll always be looking down on us and making sure we’re safe.”  I said.

“Oh, we will boy.  I’ll especially be watchin’ over you when I’m feelin’ frisky.  That’s about all we do here in heaven.”  She said.

“That does sound wonderful!  Goodbye Lucinda!  Goodbye grandpa!”  I said.

And just like that, they both disappeared in the clouds.  I’ll never forget those couple of days when Lucinda touched all of lives and made me the strong woman that I am now.  Thus was the end of the beginning.

THE END

"perfect day spent with Claudia Typhoon", by sissyp

To earn my attention, I had this particular sissy write out a perfect day spent with me would be like. with their permission, I've published it as I think it would truly be a delightful day spend with a bottom. 

After performing a tedious list of errands i arrive at Your studio.

Once i enter Your studio i place the items i acquired away.  my Mistress is lounging around Her studio at leisure because i am performing all of Her tedious chores. 

i dress myself in my appropriate sissy outfit.  i also place a remote shock collar unit around the base of my chastised balls.  i immediately go to work performing all of the domestic chores. 

While i am cleaning the studio i receive a shock to my balls.  i cease what i am doing and report to my Mistress.  my Mistress uses the remote shock collar to summons me to Her side and to perform punishment.  my Mistress advises me She is thirsty and instructs me to prepare a specific beverage.  i return shortly with the beverage on a serving tray.  After i deliver the beverage i return back to my domestic chores.  i thoroughly clean the studio until it is spotless.

Later in the day my Mistress escorts me into Her bedroom.  i assist dressing my Mistress in a very sex dominant outfit.  While i am dressing my Domina, She advises me that She has one of Her well hung prized slaves showing up to service Her.  my Mistress advises me that i could never be considered for such servitude due to my micro penis.

i am than bound in a position forced to kneel and facing the bed.  my Mistress advises me that one of Her well hung male slaves will be arriving soon to service my Mistress.  i could never be considered for such servitude due to my micro-penis.

Soon after i hear the sound of the door bell my Mistress enters the bedroom with Her male slave.  The slave is dressed in a leather outfit including wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, torso harness, waist belt with crotch strap & cock ring and a leather hood with a snap on gag.  There is no blindfold on the hood.  my Mistress uses Her prized slave like a pony by riding on his back as they enter the bedroom.

The slave immediately begins to service my Mistress.  i gaze upon his very large tool wishing i had such a large penis.  my Mistress moans in ecstasy as She is brought to orgasm several times.  Since i have not had sex with a female in over 5 years i am sexually tormented by being forced to watch.  my Mistress and the slave have sex in numerous positions.  When the slave finishes my Mistress instructs the slave to rise and stand before me.  my Mistress instructs the slave to remove my gag.  my Mistress warns me that i will either comply or She will command Her slave to beat me.  i am then ordered to clean the slaves cock with my mouth. 

Once the slave's cock is cleaned, the slave escorts me to the bed.  i am bound to the bed in a doggy style position.  my Mistress installs a huge black strap-on dildo.  i am subjected to a very long strap-on and forced bi servitude. 

After the slave leaves the studio i clean up the entire mess.  i prepare and bath my Mistress.  i than dry Her and apply moisturizer upon my Mistress.  i than give my Mistress a long massage.

When the massage is finished i am escorted into my very small dark cell.  i am locked away for the evening.  my Mistress returns to Her bedroom to rest and relax.

i hope You would enjoy such a day.

sissy p

I like to play complex sex games by Claudia Typhoon

the more layers and complexity added during my sex acts, the more satisfied I am. I fantasize about elaborate hours/days even, spent building up desire between my partner and I. I attempt this in my own sex life to mixed results. I don't think that most heterosexual males are with or lucky enough to experience a seductress as myself. I find I need to hold back something or other so that my partner does not become overwhelmed, hence My increased desire for non-traditional partnerships. lucky enough when I am in scene, I am that femme fatale. I can fantasize about further play such as cumming while my bottoms blood drips down my full chest, while in real life I'm making them squirm with pain, or more intense; tormenting them with pleasure and denying, denying, denying. I can spit in their face and singe their cock with my clove. I can strangle them until they are red in the face while I peg them aptly and forcefully. I can bind them in a chair in the corner while I'm having incredible sex with my bull, moaning sweet things to them like: "why can't you be this good", "his cock feels amazing", and be rewarded with my bull pulling out of me to cum on my cuck's hard cock, unbind the cuck's hands and order him to jerk off with my bull's cum. I would love to torment a sub in chastity for days, encourage his arousal and then cage him. repeatedly until the pain in his pelvis has become so intense that he has to bend over and wobble when we walks. as soon as it gets there, bind him on his back, legs spread and flog his hard cock until it becomes limp, thrust my cock in him and every time he gets hard slap his cock until it becomes soft again; repeat this until his orgasm overwhelms him and shoots out of his soft dick. this is just a small portion of what I think about. I want to play out detailed roles and nuances that mix in all sorts of sexuality/sensuality, fetishes/kinks, and power dynamics. I don't think I will be fully attainable to an individual until they can provide me such a thing. I will wait for you, I will teach you.

Titles, titles, titles......Domme, Domina, Dominatrix, Mistress.....by Claudia Typhoon

There is a lot of confusion once people start to enter the world of BDSM. A large part of that is learning the vocabulary, the diction and grammar, titles when referring to others. Each means something different. How you refer to them shows a respect, a modicum of behavior and a knowledge of the very small public realm in which BDSM relations reside. For example, if you are communicating to/with a female supremacist you should always capitalize her name or any pronoun in reference to her. One should always be respectful and when in doubt, show humility when talking to someone you consider your superior or are considering to act as your superior. You may even go so far as to always use a lower case letter for your own name or any pronoun you use when referring to oneself. Formal letter formats are always appreciated and will go a long way, much further than: "what are your rates and availability". We are not take out. You do not order us online even if you found us there. Dominants are very real people and can either bring you up or pull you down. Do not tempt us to treat you in a way in which neither of us will favor.

Now there are nuances to each Dominant title. To start a Dominant is an individual who takes charge of a situation whether it has a sexual context or not. A male Dominant is a Dom, master or sir. As I am not a male Dominant I could not tell you the nuances of each of those titles. Within the female realm there is Domme, Domina, Mistress, Madam, Dominatrix and certainly more beyond that. A Domme is simply short for female Dominant. Domme is a proper and safe default if you are unsure how to refer to your prospective Dominant female. She will choose her own title. A Domina is a Dominant female that assumes/is this role in her private and professional life. A Dominatrix is a woman who is a purveyor of kink, she professionally creates BDSM scenes. A Dominatrix may or may not engage in kink in her own life, but I find these ladies rarely fit the norm. A Madam, also referred to as a Head-Mistress, take charge well and efficiently. She is the Domme that can coolly hold authority over other Dommes. She is typically charming and seductive and will take no bullshit from you. She believes in protocol and often is the classy sort of lady. I have had several conversations about the word 'Mistress'. Many that refer to themselves as Mistress are quite proud of and embrace the title. They refer to the historical context of it which is an important and empowering one, but as I cannot live within that context (would I could!), I find it does not sit well with me. I belong to no man. I am not nor will I ever be the woman on the side. I am not content to be any less than the main focus of any of my partners. So you see, being a mistress is not for me. I am a Domina. I am proudly a Domina. I assume power and authority naturally and my intensity cannot be subdued even when I try. I have always been Dominant. I have always engaged in kink without realizing that is was something more than fun I was having or the way things ought to be. Now, f5 years I have been a professional Dominant and I cannot imagine that my power and skills within BDSM will wane, they will grow and lap against society like the tide.

I am sure there are titles I do not know or did not include within this entry, perhaps my definition of each is not the perceived definition of another. I can only tell you what I know other Dominants to be. In the future, take a moment of consideration and give the proper respect to your Dominant.

Pain by Claudia Typhoon

Pain is a necessary part of life. it changes us, makes us grow. Pain can be crippling and it can be cathartic. the old adage of "life is pain" is more than a little correct. As carefully as we try to live our lives we can not avoid pain, be it physical, emotional, or otherwise. I consider myself and have met others that are connoisseurs of pain. we savor our knowledge of what each type of pain signifies and how it will heal and change a person. we understand the importance of it, embrace it, digest it and are better for it. I am impressively strong due to pain I have experienced and I know that I can take a great deal more. I become eager for it even. I know the growth I receive will make me all the better than those that do not embrace the caress that hurt longs to give you. I find when I allow pain to wrap its arms around me, it cradles me and carries me to where I need to go. when people pull away from pain it grips ever the more tighter. you become used to this restriction and it becomes a part of you, only to squeeze you so tightly that you cannot breath or function until you return its affections.

now, to be less esoteric. in sex and bdsm play, pain is of vital importance. I challenge you to give me a moment in sex where there is no pain, although mostly it is so minimal that perhaps you don't notice it at all. pain during sex is very pleasurable; the rush of endorphin & other delightful hormones through your body. for those that are into corporal play, they understand the elevation, the clarity of mind that this brings. certainly, there is a right and a wrong way to hurt someone. you have to know how the body functions, understand a flush, a texture, a moan to know if the pain you are giving is correct for that person. I am most certainly a sadomasochist and nothing makes me gush more than the exchange of pain. although I don't think the outlet is correct for cutters and others that self-harm, I understand the notion completely.

there was a period of time in which I was going through a lot of emotional pain all at once. I was given no breath, no quarter, no moment to sit still and come to terms with one type of pain when the next infliction would gather its forces and smite me. that's right, I said smite. what got me through this emotionally painful time was a proper and well-given flogging by a beautiful and wonderful Domme friend of mine. the pain dispersed beautifully along my torso, each blow I consented brought my clusterfuck of thought from a loud roar to a warm hum. I could let go and focus on the pain, the evolution of it. the sharp snap of the leather, the dull thud as blows layered on top of each other creating a warmth that has no replacement. afterwards I could be quiet and smile. the calm you feel after an experience like that can not be achieved in any other way.

Working at a dungeon vs. being an independent Domina (part 2) by Claudia Typhoon

the previous post covered the pitfalls and joys of working in a dungeon. now for the same in being an independent Dominatrix.

what I really love is my income and schedule is entirely dictated by my ambition. I can have a lazy day if I want and just eat ice cream, in my jammies, in bed. I can also have a intense day where I am cruel and torment many, many souls a day. I work based upon my mood; and isn't that something that every Dominant person wants? to be the only person that dictates their time. My time is precious and I spend it how I choose. My friends are my family and I only see client and submissives/slaves that stimulate me. I have turned down money and extravagant gifts because I did not care for the individual. if I choose to have an occupation that I love, I will make the income how I choose to and at the pace I choose. I travel constantly, either for fun, work or just to relax. I love that.

sounds great right? now, let me know all the work that goes into that freedom.

now, to be a Domme in NYC know that there are already a lot of very skilled Dommes here. it is a hard place to start. when starting out you will have that shiny new girl finish and if you are without a strong disposition and a true love of kink, you will not last long. you will be naive and clients will try to take advantage as much as possible. they are like children and dogs, they must be reminded and punished appropriately and often. the further along you get, the better you will get at this. some people are naturals at discipline and behaviour modification, others are naturals at humiliation, corporal, and so forth. you will find your niche. (more on finding you niche in another entry.)
also you must build a website, put up ads, answer emails and phone calls, book appointments, invest in equipment and wardrobe, maintain you health and body, learn-grow-get better, figure out your niche, learn how to market yourself, learn law, lingo, boundaries, technical skills, psychology, body language, how to sanitize equipment, and so on and so forth. it looks effortless because those of us that are very good and are passionate about our position will do all this work to maintain it or find the proper slaves to facilitate these things. in addition to the items I've listed above, there is still much more you can do. but because I don't mind spending several hours at a time on these things, I can also enjoy a long outing with a cuckhold sissy. where we go shopping, dress up as ladies and talk about how much we both enjoy cock in the ass and how I deserve it more.

know that you are investing a lot of time and energy towards being a Domme, so you better want it or it better be part of your make-up. the learning curve is steep.

Today's Session 1 by Claudia Typhoon

there is this strapping young lad I had met a month ago that was interested in serving as a personal slave. he seemed too young and his smile too big for me to be completely confident of his desire to serve. we spoke at length and his past experiences far exceeded those of most his age which showed a willingness and passion to experiment and have varied experiences as a bottom. I decided to give him a try. I had him run some errands for me that saved me both time and money, with an additional last minute pick up before he arrived. as I was getting a facial earlier in the day, I contemplated what I was going to do with this chap and had a stroke of brilliance, I would give him a pair of saran wrap panties.

when he got here I ordered him to take off his bag, shoes, and to pour me a glass of the juice I had him pick up for me. easy task, right? he was so nervous about being in my presence that he failed. he opened the orange-pineapple juice without shaking it first. I instructed for him to pour it back, and shake it before doing so. the fool tried to pour into the narrow mouth of the container directly.  I sighed and held out a funnel in my hand. he put the bottle under the funnel (still in my hand) and tried to pour from there. I had to tell him to take the funnel from my hand, put it in the container and then pour it back in. I couldn't help but shake my head openly at his failure to do such a simple task. wouldn't you know it, when he picked up the glass to put it in my expectant hand, he spilled it on the floor and counter. I had him strip prior and to watch him clean up his mess in the nude was amusing. cleaning his mess made his dick start to drip so I directed him to catch it and eat it, and so he did.

after I had moved to sit, I had him lay on the floor at my feet and take off my heels, one at a time and massage my tender soles. all the meanwhile I am smoking a clove that is squeezed into a stone cigarette holder. its heavily scent fills the air as I alternately spit and ash on his cock. it grew hard as my saliva covered it. when I finished my smoke I placed one foot on his chest and the other on his throat, while I played with his small nipples, my nails digging into his gentle flesh as I skillfully moved them about with purposed pinches, inducing pain. I told him to stroke his cock and make sure that my spit and the ash coated his him. I continued to spit on him as I increased the amount of pain I delivered to his nipples.

smiling sweetly, I said: "you know, you aren't allowed to cum yet, you may only cum when I tell you to, but I want you to keep stroking until you are close, then I want you to stop. then start again and then stop. I want you to keep doing this until you feel as though you are about to explode. when you feel like that, let me know."

his body quaked and moaned loudly. I slapped him, "you are too loud!", then twisted his nipples sharply and released, immediately slapping both hard. when he got to the point of explosion, he paused. I told him to keep going and stop again when it moved past this feeling to the point where it started to hurt. while working to this goal, I would direct him to stop and start again at my leisure, his legs convulsing and the muscles in his body twitching. when his need to cum started to hurt, I told him to stand and pulled out the saran wrap I had him retrieve earlier.

I instructed him to hold his dick to his stomach and to rotate as I made a make-shift saran wrap diaper on him. after he laid down again, I ran my nails over the saran wrap and taunted him with humiliating jest, telling him to somehow, through the plastic, make himself cum, still at my discretion. I had him repeatedly start and stop what looked like him scratching or furiously palming his shaft. he started shaking again so I taunted his need to orgasm, and gave the following instructions: "you may cum as I instruct, but only as I count to ten, if you do not cum at 10, you will be slapped hard in the balls, and not allowed to cum at all, summarily dismissed." he seemed dismayed as this prospect but gave a "yes Domina" to my command. I didn't feel he understood so asked forcefully: "do you understand?", with a more confident "Yes Domina!".

as he furiously rubbed his clit I could see the anxiety and tension build in his body. he whimpered as I counted down. at 9, I pulled the saran wrap tight to his hips and on 10 his orgasm exploded and he was nearly unresponsive after a few moments of convulsing on the floor. I instructed him lie there for a bit and then after he had recovered himself and was calm, I instructed him to leave on the saran wrap, put on his clothes and dismissed him; but only after pointing out the fact that others on the train home may smell his cum drying under the plastic and the crinkle noise that would surely be heard with his every movement.

building an orgasm with the constant potential of it being ruined or never achieved is a very lovely thing to do.

tips for starting Dominatrices by Claudia Typhoon

now, to be a Domme in NYC know that there are already a lot of very skilled Dommes here. it is a hard place to start. when starting out you will have that shiny new girl finish and if you are without a strong disposition and a true love of kink, you will not last long. you will be naive and clients will try to take advantage as much as possible. they are like children and dogs, they must be reminded and punished appropriately and often. the further along you get, the better you will get at this. some people are naturals at discipline and behaviour modification, others are naturals at humiliation, corporal, and so forth. you will find your niche. (more on finding you niche in another entry.)

I highly suggest starting at a dungeon because it will give you a crash course and you will have more experiences Dommes to learn from and work with. I'm still in touch with Dommes I worked with when I started years ago. Dommes are my favorite kinds of people. (another entry) if you do not feel this is for you, see if a more experienced Domme will take you under his/her wing. choose carefully. this person will have a huge impact on how you develop as a Dominant. it will not be unheard of for you to serve your Dominant mentor as a submissive. Some Dominant personalities could never serve as a submissive, they just don't have the capacity. I suggest it because being able to have that empathy for your slave/sub/bottom is extremely important. I think that understanding that trust and humility as a Dominant can make someone a wonderful and powerful Dominant. the best Dominants I have ever met are sweethearts, teddy bears and generous. they understand power exchange and will not hesitate to put you in your place if needed.

EXPERIMENT! FOR THE SWEET LOVE OF CHRIST EXPERIMENT!

some things will not be for you. some things will definitely not be for you! but you will never truly learn what you love, hate, and excel at if you do not try things. do it slowly and at your pace. choose partners you can trust and communicate well with. I try things I know I will probably hate with an open mind. you never know, the right experience can really be eye opening.

example: I used to hate my feet being touched. it would make me angry; but since I have such beautiful, well-formed feet, I got tons of request for foot worship so I decided to give it a try. now foot worship is one of my favorite things to incorporate into play. it was simply that my feet were incredibly sensitive so for me in seemed invasive. now, its incredible intimate.

and ask questions, tons of questions. be a 2-year old again. why? how? why again. learn the motivation, the sensation of activities.

read! there is now a ton of literature out there. the more you read, the more experience you gain, the more you will be able to establish what is good information and inaccurate information. same goes for porn. I love porn, but some BDSM porn does not accurately display what will be going on in a session with a Domme or you as a Domme. as long as you understand that, watch away!

smoking fetish by Claudia Typhoon

some fetishes and kinks I still have to figure out, smoking fetishes however, I get. to see the smoke ooze and dissipate from sultry lips is very arousing. I try to incorporate smoking and human ashtray wherever possible. now, I'm not a regular smoker and I'm not so fond of regular cigarettes, but specialty ones like cloves and cigars I really enjoy. I even frequent some cigar lounges in the city and give the tobacco its proper respect when it comes to ritual of smoking a cigar. I love letting the smoke ooze from my mouth over my slave, putting them out on their parts, singing their hair with the hot cherries. when my playthings have sweater vest or 70's bushes, I love to singe them down to a proper length. just last week I had a very drippy sub put out a clove of mine using his pre-cum. he was very worried and it took several tries. it excited me to see him so worried that he may be burn. that same look and feeling of fear arouses me when I pass my cherry so very close to the more sensitive parts of my slave. I enjoy flicking my ash on them, rubbing it into their skin, using my spit to make a paste of it and smearing it wherever possible, where it will cake and sweat, where it will cause friction when tugged upon. I love the look of humility or disgust as I ash on their tongues. ah yes, smoking fetish is one I get.

BDSM by Claudia Typhoon

The more I learn and grow as a kinkster and Domina the more I realize that it has always been an integral part of who I am. BDSM starts simply as Bondage, Domination, Sado-Masochism. I know at least one person reading this is laughing at my use of 'simply' as BDSM is not simple. This acronym is just the start of a varied and complex sexuality and way of being. unfortunately I have met a lot of people within the scene that are rigid and inclusive. I can see their perspective, but I don't agree with it. although there is a beautiful sexual revolution happening all around us, there is still a great deal of judgement towards those that are involved in alternative or non-typical sexualities or what the mainstream perceives as 'normal'. even though gay marriage is being legalized, there are still stigma in being homosexual. so you can imagine that when a woman prefers to fuck men with phallic fruit and veggies while he wears lacy undergarments, she uses him as an ashtray and spits on him, and binds his penis and testicles with a pink lace ribbon in the process as part of their sexual repertoire, a lot of people would consider that odd. I consider it exciting. Realizing and exploring my sexuality has always been very important to me. I was never taught that sexuality is something to be ashamed of, something a very vocal part of our nation has not caught on to. I have been amazed by what I have come to enjoy sexually just because I was open to experimentation. I have also learned things that I don't like, to be sure. so I encourage you all to explore. pick someone you feel comfortable with and pursue a fantasy. start simple, involve food, kiss different parts of the body, delay an orgasm, play with toys. tantric sex is not the only way to be intimate with your partner. just know that everyone is engaging in some kind of kink. can you think of a single person who just has sex in a few key positions? They are the minority. if anyone ever makes fun of you for engaging in or having interest in kink, own it and know that they are probably making fun of you because they don't have the confidence or courage to communicate their sexual desires in the way that you do.

delays in service.

hello there. I post every sunday/monday unless of course I am out of town. If there is a long delay, please excuse it. I'm out in the world, having a great time and will post upon my return. check out my twitter or website for potential updates. you might just be able to run into me in your hometown.

https://twitter.com/ClaudiaTyphoon

www.claudiatyphoon.wix.com/dominatrix

as always, I encourage questions and comments, no matter how silly, strange, stupid or random they are. those are typically the best kinds of questions.

learning the body: the Montgomery gland. by Claudia Typhoon

also known as the Areolar glands  sebaceous glands in the areola surrounding the nipple. The glands make oily secretions (lipoid fluid) to keep the areola and the nipple lubricated and protected. Volatile compounds in these secretions may also serve as an olfactory stimulus for newborn appetite.^[1]

The portions of the gland on skin's surface are called "Montgomery tubercles". The round bumps are found in the areola, and on the nipple itself. They can become exposed and raised when the nipple is stimulated. The skin over the surface opening is lubricated and tends to be smoother than the rest of the areola. The tubercles become more pronounced during pregnancy.

The number of glands can vary greatly, usually averaging from 4 to 28 per nipple.^[2]

They are named after Dr. William Fetherstone Montgomery (1797–1859), an Irish obstetrician who first described them in 1837

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Areolar_glands

The Montgomery glands are sometimes susceptible to infection or irritation. Infection is often related to mastitis, an infection involving the mammary glands as well as surrounding glands and tissue. Mastitis is most common in women who are pregnant or lactating. When infection is present, medical treatment is required in order to get rid of the infection and keep it from spreading.

http://www.wisegeek.org/what-are-montgomery-glands.htm

I had a friend recently that had a terrible infection from one of her glands. it secreted a black substance and terrified her. I never even knew what this gland was called and wasn't terrible concerned about it on my own breast, but after trying to find information about it I learned that many women have insecurities about a part of their body that is completely normal to have. our bodies are very interesting things and our capacity to heal and be so fragile is an interesting dichotomy. but the irritation of [non-sterile excision of the tubercles, constant rubbing (from clothing) or too much rough nipple play] can lead to infection and if these very useful glands excrete anything that isn't a white, waxy substance, you should see a doctor. but please ladies and gents, don't ever feel insecure or upset about this very natural part of your chest, confidence is a very sexy thing and there will always be people out there that find you attractive. 

Working at a dungeon vs. being an independent Domina (part 1) by Claudia Typhoon

when I first became a Dominatrix it was at Mistress Jasmine's in midtown Manhattan. a few years later I became an independent Domina. there are certainly benefits and drawbacks to both. now, these are based upon specific details to the Dungeon of Mistress Jasmine's and my being independent so I'm sure some variations will arise.

the drawbacks to working at the dungeon was that I could not advertise for myself. I was not allowed to have a website, to put up ads or otherwise market myself. the dungeon has a website with all the house Dominatrices schedule and a gallery of their image listed. the owner was.......special (just like all dungeon owners that are male.) he would only put up ads sporadically and not advertise/market all the Dommes that were in employ there. I am more than aware being a Dominatrix is not a get rich career, but I still would like to make an income from it. it also arouses me to take a man's money and then his submission. how am I to do this when I'm not being marketed? also, you are required to work a certain amount of hours per week. usually 3 or 4,  6-8 hours shifts per week. and if you don't have any sessions that week? no new experience gained + no money in your pocket = time wasted and money lost (transportation and food cost). I loved hanging out with the other Dommes and never have I felt more connected to a group of women until I met Dommes, but still.....NYC is an expensive place. but the the things I learned were an investment and well worth the cost of my time.

on the plus side, Jasmine's has a beautiful facility, its very secure and well equipped. I was always grateful for the room to play, the thought out play-rooms and the cleanliness of the place. I did not have to screen my clients or filter through phone calls. I did not have to book sessions for myself. there were managers there to take care of all this for you. I met one of my favorite people in the BDSM world at Jasmine's, one of the manager's there. I could always trust her insight and advice when it came to either skills, following my intuition, and dealing with all other aspects of BDSM and clientele. having someone you can trust and rely upon in any industry is very important. also, because so many different types of people come into a dungeon, you really get a crash course in BDSM. you will learn and experience more things than you thought possible in a short amount of time.

I neither am against either working or visiting at Jasmine's nor do I endorse it, those decisions are up to your discretion. 

a marine as a human ashtray. by Claudia Typhoon

I had a marine approach me with the desire to serve as personal slave. I make my potentials work for my attentions, test them, and push them before I accept them as my own. I am not for the impatient or for those that just play at being submissive. only a true submissive will past my test and endure my humiliations and boundary-pushing behaviours long enough to become my personal slave, a relationship I hold in reverence and once you have earned a position as my slave, you must do something incredibly stupid or disrespectful to loose this place, so vigorous my testing. I find that those that have served in military branches, are strongly influenced by the Asian culture they come from or follow old school BDSM protocols are the best fits for me.

as soon as I laid eyes upon the marine I knew what his first test would be for me. cigarettes I'm not partial too, but other forms of recreational smoking I rather enjoy. I love cloves directly from thailand and a fine cigar is a joy. there is a place in particular on hudson on the edge of the meatpacking district and the west village in manhattan that I adore. the padded leather chairs, the wood paneling, the old world ambiance, a respect for the cigar-smoking ritual coupled with one of the best selections of whiskey and scotch make this a place to savour and enjoy. I'm not informing him of what our meeting entails, but he knows the location and time. I'm seated in the deep, dark corner of this dimly lit sanctuary and start to puff on my neatly trimmed, cedar-lit cigar. my timing is perfect. as he walks up to me, I already have my drink order in mind. I lift my hand to give him pause and after a moment of examining him, I lower my hand and direct him to fetch orangerie scotch, served straight. I give a sensuous puff on my cigar as he does as he is bid and upon his return I direct him to kneel next to my seat. with both hands held open in front of him, I use one to hold my scotch and the other to roll the ash off of my cigar. he is not at an angle to observe me, but I can easily admire him. he is resting on his haunches and does not flinch from the heat from the cigar as it brushes against the callouses of his palm. I like his discipline. I enjoy my scotch and cigar as long as it pleases me and leave enough of my drink in the glass for him to enjoy a taste of it. as I look directly in his eyes and part his lips with my long red nail, I slide the cigar in his mouth, a little forcefully and suggestively. I stare at him a moment longer, inches from his face until he becomes visually uncomfortable. I give him my lovely devilish grin, and sashay away, my hips swaying beautifully. he did well, he will get to see me another day.

The forbidden feet of Egypt by Claudia Typhoon

I had a session week ago I found particular interesting. Not that I find foot fetish to be the most obscure, nor wild of fetishes, but it was the conversation I had during this session that I found engaging. My fetishist under foot was from Egypt. he grew up there and told me about the evolution of his fetish. as with most foot fetishist, he was exposed to intimacy with a woman via her feet. he had an aunt allow/encourage him to massage his feet to relax her until she went to sleep. he found he really enjoyed this activity and would continue to massage her sore soles while she was asleep. his love of feet grew from this and as he became a man he would try to pursue this with others and find that woman thought him strange and he would be given a critical eye from his male peers. he couldn't mention this fetish of his to anyone. I feel as though I've down-played how people would react because he was sure that pain or punishment would follow anyone finding out. for all the things I've been able to experience sexually I was astonished that something that I would consider simple and playful would be risqué or taboo. I inquired further about sexuality in Egypt. if foot fetishism was taboo, what was "normal sex" there? sex it seems was not too difficult to achieve, but it was what most would consider "normal", heterosexual intercourse. penis in vagina thrusting in a variety of positions mostly missionary and doggie-style. it gave me food for thought. this was one individual telling me an entire population of people were not exploring their sexuality. I was in disbelief. surely this wasn't true? I was assured that it was a sad reality. was this true for all Arabic cultures? the center for Arabic media is in Egypt, and thus the "normal" or standards to which Arabic peoples as a whole would be determined or represented there and then send out on waves for the rest of Arabic culture to see. was all of Arabic culture so repressed? historically Arabic cultures were not sexually conservative peoples, when did all this change? am I thousands of years behind the times?

Road to Prostitution (fiction) by Claudia Typhoon

I know that when my nostrils fill with the noxious and powerful odor of cat piss that this is death. you may think that I had a poor relationship with my father, I did for a while, but Im pretty sure that my male parent loves me, as uncomfortable as it makes me to think about. I know what you are thinking, 'he loved you a little too much?', no you fucking perv, this about the death of a soul made up of many small deaths. the paper cuts and slip of knives that leads to the hemorrhaging of self. it took a day that started with a bleach load in the back of my throat and ended with a different cock squeezing out its elements onto my face and mucus up my snot-producing olfactory face-holes to realize that the sort of soul death that I was exchanging to deaden my emotions and avoid their consequences was not worth its cost. if I was to feel such shit after becoming a slip & slide, then I should start charging, my rent would have been paid ages ago. $250 hand-jobs seemed to wax the wheels before and laughter ensued, I'd rather make that again than sell my tears in exchange for guilt to soften my fears. this giving up of myself is all I have left. the hollow is easier to fill to the brim than to feel. emote he says, emote because you should, I want you to feel and I inspire you to love passionately, you will fear to feel. I always fear. I know that a woman made when the rivers flow to mounds below. my hills and pillow-loves. to caress, to possess. these are me and not for you. but I am tricked into giving and giving and giving and giving and giving and nothing. I have nothing to give and will eat not a thread to ask to be good, to ask to be well, to ask to be. the floor inspires me to caress it but I cannot allow myself to touch an unknown filth, the filth is me and I desire not to touch myself. when I do I think of you, your soft lips, your fingertips. I bargain for a sale and I give dignity for free. please inspire me to be more than me. I've started to play the day away. I will save my smiles for you. the lips I possess, bearded or make-up applied will wait to kiss your lips. you pay the price at which I want to sell. let me bargain for your kind, let me earn your pride. my back will not suffice as a vehicle of this, so stand shall I.

Sapiosexuals by Claudia Typhoon

this is a strange neologism that i've seen pop up a great deal lately. it seems to be a clever catch word. a sexual "identity" that separates those that get the inside joke from those that don't. a sapioxual is an individual that is aroused/attracted to intelligence. I find that my cock gets soft when I cannot have a stimulating discourse with another individual. but those that self-label as sapiosexuals apply it their attraction to those that are considered geeks, nerds, et cetera. as someone who is attracted to nerds and have a great many friend geek, these individuals are not necessarily brilliant. being within a geek culture means that you have a very specific knowledge about cult entertainment or advancements in technology. it does not mean that they are the be all, end all. I'm sure I will get hateful comments about it, but please consider yourself or your geeks friends objectively when comparing their intelligence to those that are not "geeks". in the way in which people use the word sapiosexual, they seem to just mean "geek love". 

I'm inclined to  side with this comment: "It's an arousal trigger of course, for some an extremely strong one, but I do not think it is a sexuality. Not unless you are attracted to intelligent people entirely irrespective of sex, gender, etc."

in finding references to sapiosexual (outside the context of journals) I found this blog entry to only be the most enlightening, but surely side with his opinion of the topic. 

http://inurashii.tumblr.com/post/29689787701/oh-sapiosexuality-i-have-been-holding-onto-a

To porn or not to porn by Claudia Typhoon

I think that women should consider two important things in their life: whether or not they want to have children and whether or not they would consider sex work. how a woman feels about these decisions will influence the course in which her life will unfold. Having children or not will determine career paths, what you desire in a partner to start. I really want to have children and I am a sex worker, I'm a Dominatrix. of course I could have children anytime, but I think that children should have a loving supportive environment and until I can give children the stable home they desire, I will not have them. Sex work is an amazing thing when a woman pursues it for her own interest, not through desperation, coercion, abuse or other outside influences. I have learned to value myself and am very confident of my worth. I know that no amount of money will let me compromise myself or my values. I can always make my rent in other ways; I am a Domina because it excites me, satisfies me, stimulates me. I am not a woman that is content with a normal job. this does not mean I have no marketable skills, it fact, I have many. now that I have been a Domina for years the next thing to consider in my BDSM career is whether or not to do porn/erotica. pornography doesn't interest me. the quality of a lot of it is poor and does not depict any sex act accurately. what does interest me is creating something worthwhile. something that stimulates that senses, elaborates upon fantasy. I feel I owe it to my film school education to do so. that is, if I decide to do so. it seems that the trend is that if I Domina wants to make money and expand upon her reputation, that films are the way to go. I have seen a few of the Dommes that I have grown up with do so. I admire their success and a part of me wants the world to see my skill and beauty, and pay for the pleasure.

we shall see.

Happy Birthday by Claudia Typhoon

at 9am tomorrow I will be turning 29, I'm very excited about this year and love getting older. I still have several lifetimes to live. to be ridiculous, I'm re-posting a letter I wrote to my lady-parts last week:

Dear Uterus, 

I just want to start off this letter by saying that I love you & respect your work; but a few days of pms rage followed by pms depression isn't very nice. And why do my back & breast have to be in such intense pain the whole time? I ask you, as a friend, to cut-it with the empty-nest thing you got going on. I know you love your eggs & spend a lot of energy in making them great, but you have let others go before it & surely more will follow. Don't worry, I think about using them and how awesome it is that your egg cells will become people, but it's not time. I promise, if you save a couple of good ones, I will be sure to use them. Just please stop torturing me. 


love,

Claudia

Kink is hereditary by Claudia Typhoon

a Domme friend and I go on glorious rants together, I find them to be educational and enlightening. something we have discussed is the likelihood of kink being hereditary. I can say from personal experience that I don't doubt it. since most of our behavior is learned, would our sexual behaviours not also be learned? granted we don't sit around and watch our parents fuck, but how we develop as children and as young adults greatly affects our sexual proclivities. even those of us who have not read much psychology are at least familiar enough with Freud's theories to agree with my previous statement. so if our upbringing is similar to our parents, might we not seek the same sexual refuge? might we not also have the same sexual dysfunctions? I would be curious to participate in such a study or read one that may already be in existence. in my case, I had a very dominant father, not that I seek dominant male partners, quite the reverse; but I do seek Dominant sexual partners. then.....I also seek submissive ones......perhaps I should not use myself as an example. let me tell you a story that creates a better parallel. last may I insisted upon helping my parents clean up their house and rid themselves of unwanted items. going through my mother's drawers I found sashes, nipple clamps, dildos, and a hand-made suede flogger. my mother seemed quiet embarrassed, but I was intrigued that she had these items. they certainly weren't to use on my father. I also really enjoy being flogged, but I like the painful snap of hard leather or rubber, not the playful caress of the suede my mother had. I'm going to do more research into this topic and let you know what I find. I'm sure the comparisons will be interesting.

"Career Call"-article for loyola university's LGBTIQ publication, part 2 by Claudia Typhoon

I assure you its not the most glamorous of occupations at all times.  I spent a lot of time writing emails and scheduling sessions.  I put a ad about once or twice a month.  I have a session at least once a week, as an independent in nyc that means $100-$300 per session.  (Industry standard currently but as a Domme becomes more skilled and gains time and experience, a rate sure to rise.)  Granted I get lots of spare time because of this to plan my Domme career, work on my art projects, socialize and such, but being an Domina is not a guaranteed income and that is hard for a lot of people.  To be a successful Domme you need to have a website, videos, perhaps sell “merchandise,” feature in magazines, model, et cetera.  This is what I am working on currently and will continue to build my reputation.

Being a Domme doesn’t simply mean that I whip people and bind them in chains.  I can’t remember the last time I’ve used if even seen either.  Being, becoming, and maintaining as a Dominatrix comes with the understanding of and climbing a very steep learning curve.  Other Dominas don’t want to give out their knowledge as its hard to come by and they do not want to encourage competition.  Also, being a  Dominant means that you need to be empathetic, able to read body language exceedingly well, and have a at least base knowledge of psychology.  Understanding how the experiences people go through shape them sexually is very important.  Each person is unique, but over time you will notice certain patterns emerge.  For example, people in powerful positions tend to be submissive in their sex lives because they need somewhere they can be vulnerable and have someone else take charge and make decisions.

Domina, Domme, Dom, Dominatrix, Dominant.  These words seem interchangeable but carry with them subtlties.  A Dominant is a person in a social or sexual situation that is in the position of power.  A Dominatrix is typically a female that practices BDSM for an income.  A Dominatrix may or may not enjoy BDSM in her own life.  A Domme is a female Dominant, a Dom, a male Dominant.  A Domina (which I identify as), is a female that practices BDSM both professionally and in her private life.  I’m sure you also notice that the D is capitalized.  In D/s, BDSM conversations it is typical to have the Dominant person indentified as being the person in power by capitalizing the D or the letter(s) of their name.  The submissive shows their position by referring to themselves in lower case or using language that places them as being the person that does not make decisions or holds any power within the D/s relationship.  Interestingly enough, the submissive holds a great deal of power within the D/s relationship.  I find that the submissive is the medium in which I express my sexuality.  The D/s dynamic is a beautiful and fulfilling when the chemistry is right between two individuals. 

"Career Call"-article for loyola university's LGBTIQ publication, part 1 by Claudia Typhoon

Becoming a professional Dominant is a pretty straightforward path.  For me it certainly was, which I take it to mean it was meant to be.  I had been interested in BDSM since I found out about it at 15.  Once I had moved to NYC, becoming a professional Dominatrix seemed to be something more attainable than the South I was raised in.

One day while looking for jobs on Craigslist I found an ad for women to work at a dungeon in Manhattan, no experience necessary.   I called and set up an appointment for a few days later.  The large and unfriendly woman asked me a series of questions; “what’s your level of experience, knowledge, interest in BDSM?”  BDSM meaning Bondage, Domination, Sado-Masochism.  She seemed to be testing me, watching my body language as she informed me that I had to be comfortable with bodily fluids and touching the assholes and such of strange men.  Later this would equate to a handshake instead of an eye-brow raising comment.  When she felt satisfied that I do not scare easily, she set up my schedule with me.  I would work at least 3, 8 hour shifts per week.  No guarantee of income, but $80 per session with potential for tips outside of that.  The dungeon charged $220 per session, (industry standard is currently $250 in NYC), the dungeon kept the other $140.  Since I had two other jobs at the time, I wasn’t worried about making money.

Dominant women, much like typical men in positions of power, are competitive and have erect egos that tend to bump into others and become irate when others do not move from their path.  I chose to remain quiet and out of the way my first few weeks, asking questions of the other women I felt may actually give me information instead of angry blast of insults.

My first session was a smoking session.  Something I enjoy, but my first was a departure from any subsequent ones I would have.  This was a forced inhalation smoking session.  The gentleman (who was a very lovely man) had an apparatus that was strapped to his face.  There was a tube that led to his mouth and nose.  He could only take in air through this hose.  I smoke cloves occasionally, but I loathe cigarettes. I figured I could pull the cigarette smoke into my cheeks and blow it into the tube without inhaling much smoke.  It made my nose run terribly, which I blew into my hand and smeared on his thighs. He thought that action wonderful.  We both laughed and had a great time.  I felt I had a great session, but when I got home later, I had an asthma attack like no other.  I couldn’t take in air and my roommates called the EMTs to give me oxygen.  This reinforced my hatred of cigarettes; but hooked me on becoming a Dominatrix.  For the next few years I would work professionally both in and out of a dungeon setting as a Domme.  I find my occupation to be a very satisfying one. Each new interaction, each new session I learn more about sexuality, myself, and how no one has “normal sex.”

"Queering Claudia Typhoon"-article for loyola university's LGBTQ publication by Claudia Typhoon

I don’t recall a defining moment in time in which I learned the term queer, but I do remember asking the person who self-identified as such what it meant.  They explained how they felt themselves to be and what queer meant to them nonchalantly and it just clicked for me.  I define myself as being attracted to multiple gender and sexual identities.

I find that the more I learn about sexuality, the less I can be defined by my own proclivities. Complex sexual identities are conversations, not short answers.  Most people don’t “have time” to learn and accept the identities of others.  Even worse, condemn it because it doesn't fit into their current sexual context.  I’ve found that the most backlash I’ve received are from individuals that noticeably have sexual interest that come under criticism of others; such as a “hot wife/cuckholdress” or homosexual individuals that tell me that I am selfish for not selecting just one gender to be attracted to, “just pick one already.”  It’s strange to me that those that come from non-linear sexualities would condemn me for having a non-linear sexuality myself.

I identify as queer because it makes the most sense based upon my current schema.  As I evolve and learn more I may identify as something else or choose not to identify at all. I am LGBTQ and an ally.  I have been best friends with Curtis for 15 years and we have grown and supported the evolution of our respective sexualities over the years.  I support the growth and exploration of every individual, as long as it remains safe, sane, and consensual.

The evolution of my sexuality is one of a long conscious of its being.  When I first became attracted to a particular sex I found that the curvaceous women in my parent’s Playboys were what did it for me.  When I started to masturbate I thought of jungle cats mounting me as they would with any mate—teeth, claws, and blood included.  I told my mother I was bisexual when I was 14.  She looked scared and after a pause said that as long as I marry a man and give her grandchildren, it did not matter what I was.  This angered me.  When I was about 15 or 16 I learned of the concept of BDSM. Unbeknownst to be, I had been engaging in BDSM lifestyle activities since I was 5, which I explored mostly with men.  When I moved to NYC I learned the term queer and became a Domina.  I continue to explore my own sexuality and to educate others.  I find that “normal sex” rarely happens; in my own life and of those around me.  The perpetuation of people having puritan sexual relations with each other is a farce, especially with those that are the first to condemn the sexuality of others. 

As a little girl by Claudia Typhoon

I was already a Domina when I was a baby, I would crawl over other babies without any thought to the mounds blockading me. in school I was a bit of a bully it seems, but not the typical one. I wasn't interested in pushing over children that could not defend themselves. instead I wanted larger game. I pushed around those that were bigger and stronger than me. when you are a five year old girl, that means the boys. it got to the point that my teacher sent a note home to my parents stating that I needed to stop chasing the boys, I was scaring them. I found out about reproduction in primary school as well. my mom had a brilliant pop-up book on the gestation cycle of humans. learning about sex so young was beneficial. I think because of this I approached anything sexual in nature with a healthy curiosity and made sure that I had sexual experiences on my own terms. but as much as my barbies had sex, I learned about how messy sex was the hard way. pun intended.

My penis theory by Claudia Typhoon

now, in stating this theory, I know that there are always exceptions to the rule. I know because I've met them. but I find that more often than not, men that have smaller penises tend to go one of a few ways; they either focus on pleasing a woman in whatever way possible by means of oral sex or they submit to a Dominant & want to be humiliated for their penis size. most within this category are of the mindset that their small member will never please a woman via penetration so they offer themselves up to the chopping block so the speak to be used by whatever whim their Dominant chooses for them. this is a focus on mental satisfaction rather than physical and I find its pursuit interesting. most people don't realize that your stimulation and sexual appetites dwell within your brain grapes; but that is a different blog. this group of males I don't find nearly as interesting as the other, the male in power.

this is what i find to be more common, kink or no. men that are tall and well built naturally have very calm and sweet dispositions. due to their opposing size and "ideal" masculine form they do not need to assert their "maleness", nor their dominance. I'm sure you have heard of a Napoleon complex, right? more often than not, i find that shorter men feel they need to assert themselves and can be very pushy to compensate for their lack in vertical measurements. same can be said for penis size. men that are endowed typically have more relaxed dispositions than their smaller counterparts. they also are less likely to pursue positions of power. why is that? ultimately we are all competing for mates. a man that is ideal physically will not have to work as hard to achieve mates, think: athletes. when a man has a sizable cock, he typically is satisfied with a job/career that does not put him in a position of power because he doesn't need that extra help to find an ideal mate. think of powerful and successful men, now think about their spouses. often beautiful and accomplished women, correct? (at least beautiful, haha!) what drove those men to achieve? a great many things, but i assure you that cock size had something to do with it. most of the clients i see are average if not more than likely below average. i want you to keep in mind that the average size of an American melanin-challenged individual is at 5.5 inches in length. when we think of a large penis we think of a 8-10" piece of man-meat. chew on that size difference. notice i haven't even mentioned girth. the enlarged clitorises of the men that I see as submissive clients typically are lawyers, high-stakes finance, presidents, vice-presidents, CEO's of companies; think executives. these men achieve because they need to get the best mates over their endowed brethren. it levels the playing field. if you think I'm off on my assumption, ladies (and those that like penis, regardless of your sexual identity), i want you to reflect on your sexual partners; their occupations and relate it to their cock size. also consider how much you were willing to put up with for a cock you enjoyed over one that fell short. then let me know if you agree. I think you will find that your primal mind makes more choices than you are conscious of.

i know that my observation makes it sound like larger penis size is better. i know women that do prefer a average or even below average sized cock. also, the most sensitive part of a woman's vagina is the first two inches and the edge upon entry. so many woman are very satisfied with average-sized cocks. so if you know how to use it, you will be just fine.