A Game of Chess (#1)

A couple years ago, my live-in boyfriend went traveling for a week. I never had an inclination to dominate before; in fact, I considered myself sexually submissive. Domination must have entered my mind after reading, of all things, Anton LaVey’s The Satanic Witch about how a woman’s sexuality is a powerful weapon against hapless men. I decided to place a Craigslist ad for a houseboy. After going through all the responses, I contacted a man who was professional dancer and had some experience with a domme in the past. He sent me a handsome picture of himself cuffed and collared.

When he came over, my heart was pounding, though I acted brave. I had never dominated anyone before, and I had little idea what to do. I had dressed normally, as I don’t believe in wearing “costumes.” I think it’s more powerful to dominate in what I normally wear. Because he was late, I made him undress (he was wearing a cock ring) and get on all fours. I immediately administered a spanking with the back of my hairbrush, making him count out each spank: one for each minute late. I held his hair, so he couldn’t hide his pained face from me. He was late 40 minutes, so by the end of the punishment, his ass was pink. Afterwards, I had him run errands for me, do my laundry, and make me dinner. I ate it as he massaged my feet. The reward for his work was a kiss on my foot.

What struck me was how well-behaved he was: eyes lowered, bowed head, “Ma’am” after every statement, quiet answers to my questions, and absolutely no topping from the bottom.


A Game of Chess (#2)

A few months later, he came over again. This time, we had considerably less time. I took him by the ear and took him to the corner of my kitchen and made him undress. He kneeled in front of the garbage can for about ten minutes as I went into the other room. (Quite frankly, I was vying for time because I didn’t know what to do. I also felt that the anticipation of punishment added to the tension as well.) I had enjoyed administering the spanking so much last time, that I repeated it, making him fetch me my hairbrush. After his punishment, I made him give me a full body massage for about half an hour. Then I spanked him again and made him massage my feet and kiss them as reward.

After these experiences, I felt a sense of relief. Although I wasn’t harmed in any way, I thought it was foolish of me to invite over a stranger without checking him out initially. I was also angry at myself for putting my relationship with my boyfriend at risk. I believe that women should have control over their relationships, but I love my boyfriend and knew he would not be open to me being a domme with someone else. Inviting over people when he wasn’t home didn’t seem like a smart thing to do, and I don’t like sneaking around either. Although he wouldn’t consider himself a sub, I dominate my boyfriend in subtle ways: I have him make my meals, run baths for me, and massage me.


A Game of Chess (#3)

I hadn’t heard from the dancer until this past summer when he left a message telling me that he thought about me a lot. I called him back and left a message, but I haven’t heard from him. Part of me wants to meet him again, but another part of me feels like if I continue with these erotic encounters, I’m going to get too caught up in them.

As more time passes, I find myself getting more and more turned on as I remember them and fantasize about domination in general. I love the feeling of making a grown man subservient. I loved the quiver in his voice on the phone and in person: the (harmless, of course) fear I caused in him, merely by being an attractive female. One time during an encounter, he didn’t know where I had moved to, and he looked up and caught my eye. With a shocked look, he immediately lowered his eyes in reverence. I like replaying this little moment in my mind. Of course, I also replay the spankings. I travel on the subway in NYC everyday, and I sometimes pass the time by picking out who I think are male subs and thinking about what I’d like to do to them. Men who are submissive give out signals (whether they are aware of it or not) that us dommes pick up on, believe me!



In the whole vast dome of living nature there reigns an open violence,

a kind of prescriptive fury which arms all the creatures to their common doom: as soon as you leave the inanimate kingdom you find the decree of violent death inscribed on the very frontiers of life. You feel it already in the vegetable kingdom: from the great catalpa to the humblest herb, how many plants die and how many are killed! but, from the moment you enter the animal kingdom, this law is suddenly in the most dreadful evidence. A power, a violence, at once hidden and palpable, has in each species appointed a certain number of animals to devour the others: thus there are insects of prey, reptiles of prey, birds of prey, fishes of prey, quadrupeds of prey. There is no instant of time when one creature is not being devoured by another.

Over all these numerous races of animals man is placed, and his destructive hand spares nothing that lives. He kills to obtain food and he kills to clothe himself; he kills to adorn himself; he kills in order to attack and he kills to defend himself; he kills to instruct himself and he kills to amuse himself; he kills to kill. Proud and terrible king, he wants everything and nothing resists him: from the lamb he tears its guts to make his harp resound, from the wolf his most deadly tooth to polish his pretty works of art, from the elephant his skin to make a whip for his child—his table is covered with corpses. And who exterminates him who will exterminate all the others? Himself. It is man who is charged with the slaughter of man.

Joseph de Maistre



Thus, from maggot up to man, the universal law of the violent destruction of living things is unceasingly fulfilled.

The entire earth, perpetually steeped in blood, is nothing but an immense altar upon which every living thing must be immolated without end, without restraint, without respite, until the consummation of the world, until the extinction of evil, until the death of death.

Joseph de Maistre




A policeman, Maurice Marullas, has blown out his brains.

Let’s save the name of this honest man from being forgotten.

Félix Fénéon