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In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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Primal Surrender

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02.13.24 My last post was an attempt to release the frantic need for Him clawing through my mind and soul.  It didn't help much.  I had to drown myself in the intellectual distractions of startup plans instead while I tried in vain to ignore my lioness as she continued to batter against the cage of her reality: vanilla work, doctor's post-dental surgery instructions, a damn Nor'easter.  Finally last night, exhausted, she tucked her tail, curled into a ball, and fell silent and still.   There was no more fight left in her.   There isn't any today either. Again... I don't want to talk to anyone. Hear anyone. See anyone. Touch anyone. My lioness just wants to hide away in her cave.  She doesn't give a fuck about being responsible or being social or the fucking world.   Only He can soothe her and rouse her from her retreat and sleep.  Though tonight she would be hard pressed to summon any of the energy from her last post.  However, there will be no soothing due to r
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The Co-Creation of a New Service Dialect | My Initial Steps

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I am very slowly learning, attempting, exploring a new service dialect that I know little to nothing about. Most would think, "No big deal," especially for me.  I consistently reach for new information, ideas, points of view to add to my toolbox, especially in the lifestyle through classes, discussions, panels, cons, etc.  Those closest to me have graciously poured endless tanker trucks of knowledge, concepts, and skills into me over the years, fueling my Lifestyle Journey as well as my personal and professional paths.  I am curious as hell and don't hesitate to find ways to feed my often voracious mind.   But when a romantic interest who would RECEIVE said service is the One instructing and assessing my progress of GIVING service???  Oh...that shit is a completely new experience for me in addition to the subject matter.   There was, of course, the fresh breeze in my mind that always happens when opening up new pathways for growth, but I hadn't considered the nuances
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Laundry Service Revelations

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Shit. I folded his clothes. I’m not joking. I got within two feet of that soft warm heap of pants, shirts, tees, briefs, and socks, and my hands instinctively dove in like I’d done this for him a thousand times before.  Zero hesitation.  I paused briefly in shaking out a shirt to ask a quick question on preference and kept right on serving...In sheer fuckin bliss. SMH. Context...I haven’t folded a man’s clothes in over seven years. Hell, I don’t even fold my own clothes.  NYC's relationship with laundry is a bit different than most of this country's.  Between no in-apartment appliances and a sucky commute that eats an entire functional day a week, it’s NYC drop off service for me, please and thank you.  However, it's more than just practicalities responsible for the seven year hiatus, and there is a significance within my simple actions that I can’t ignore. Truth | I essentially have a long-established hard limit: Unless there is an emergency, urgent need, or serious il
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To Own Me | An Answer to My Critics

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I'm too independent... I'm too intense... I'm too deep... To be on the right side of the slash? No problem.  Because I'm not – nor will I ever be – your fucking problem. I fully acknowledge that I am all the things my many critics have accused me of, and I apologize for none of it.  I can be nothing but my authentic self, and I refuse to restrain myself or be less, so others can be more comfortable with who I am or how I identify.  Fuck you for thinking I should.   I am a V12. The Man who chooses to Own me will be able to...        Race the shadows of the night.      Hug the curves life throws us like we're on rails.      Rocket us in any the direction He seeks. I am a Lioness. The Man who dares to Own me will have...      A fierce protector at His side.      An apex predator to hunt the world with Him.      A primal beast under Him to sate His wickedest desires.      A loyal companion to curl contentedly at His feet. I am a Force of Nature. The Man who takes Contro
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The Seduction of Earth Energy

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It was around 7pm when I first felt its whispers.  From my spot—legs spread wide to stretch on the warm sand—a dark, earthy, slow-as-shit pulse began to seep into my cunt and lick my thighs, calves, and feet.  Within 30 minutes, the energy shift was tangible, from Coney Island's daytime chaos of fusion jazz with a thousand cymbal clashes and multiple keyboard lines to evening's more grounded, indigenous bass line of drums that teased and seduced my soul.  As folks departed the beach, the natural earth energy, no longer held down by the mass of humanity's emotion and need, rose like a tide to wash over me and snatch me down to its lair.   Stripped of emotions and encased in a cool comforting Peace, every part of me slowed down to a crawl.  After revving high for days...weeks...I purred at idled as the sun dropped behind the manufactured lights and gave way to the sharp glow of a New Moon...new beginnings. That was last night.   More than 16 hours later, this energy still has
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Writer's Tears & a Bronx Fire Escape

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2am.  Top space has me tightly in its fist.  Sisterhood bonded.  Energy shared.  Knowledge imparted.  Friendship built.  The truths we reveal sippin Writer's Tears in the cool breeze on a Bronx fire escape and over platefuls of piping hot empanadas leave us nowhere to hide. Leather Living explained...the sex...the pain.  A different level of it all.  Messy.  Hot and sweaty.  Piss.  Even shit.  Real.  Raw passion ripped from flesh and spirit without filter.  Tears licked.  We leatherfolk wallow in the grit and purity of our religion because there...we find our truest selves. The floor...fuck yes that mother fuckin floor.  Where there is no pride or ego.  Where we let go.  Where we are stripped bare of everything... Except our fucking surrender.  To the Universe.  To one another.  To ourselves.  To the One who in that moment holds our pain, our minds, our hearts, our bodies, our very fucking souls. The floor is where serenity and peace finally find us. Amazing fucking night.   ~Domin
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Instincts of a Lioness

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As night creeps in, I can sense the world crawling toward me to rupture the only reality I want to embrace.  Let the fucking world burn.  I have no use for it anymore.  Don't tell a Lioness to be reasonable.  My only reason is instinct.  I know where I belong now.    My heart races with memories of Him, and I growl softly.  In need?  In lust?  In understanding?  In truth.  This cannot be undone.  All of me is present.  Fully.  Tomorrow is irrelevant.  So are the damn details.  Only now.  This moment. This...beginning.  Matters.  I regret nothing, and I have no time or patience or desire to reassure anyone or anything.  Even myself.  Instinct calls. I stroked and clawed at His beautiful frame for hours.  I drank in His scent.  I lapped, sucked, and swallowed His taste.  Shivers flutter down my spine as I relive His fierce control and such total consumption that I could barely stand, and the tenderness of my body reminds me in no uncertain terms that my journey has altered irrevocabl
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Adventures in Online Dating | Post #1: The Art of Peopling

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After spending years (pandemic) getting seriously reacquainted with my Introvert and enabling my Service Whore to over-extend herself beyond fucking reason, I'm trying to reconnect to the mysterious art of peopling.   I had no choice but to face up to the reality that my peopling skills are rusty as fuck when at SPLF I was stunned into confused silence from a basic personal question during a first in-person intro.  If they had asked about any number of service projects or classes, I could have easily rattled off dialog.  But a simple, polite "You fascinate me.  Tell me about yourself," slammed my thought processes from Fourth into Reverse, grinding gears and causing significant damage to my mental transmission.  Later reflection...I need to practice more personal engagements. It's time to transition fully outta Pandemic Mode and feed other pieces of me besides my Introvert and Service Whore.  Note:  Introvert resents and rebels against this effort with almost every st
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DominaKat's Lifestyle Classes I What I Teach & Bio

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Updated | 05.20.23 CLASS LIST The 12 Goals of S&M: Foundations for Scenecrafting | Class Write Up Fail Fast, Fail Often, Fail Forward: Normalizing (the Reality of) Failure as a Part of Growth in the Lifestyle | Class Write Up - Coming Soon! Note | Session can be tailored toward a focus of BDSM, Authority Transfer, or Leather Community if desired. The 9 Service Languages of Authority Transfer Relationships & Dynamics Intro - 90m or Intensive - 3hrs | Class Write Up Day Workshop - 6 hrs | Includes additional guided self-reflection, group discussions, & self-assessment workbook Know Your Service Boundaries: Lessons from the Trenches of a Service Whore (for BOTH sides of the /) | Class Write Up The Ally~Advocate~Warrior Series Session 1 | The Ally~Advocate~Warrior Journey for Marginalized Communities within Kink & Leather | Class Write Up Session 2 | Ally~Advocate~Warrior Tactics for Individuals, Organizers, and Groups in Leather & Kink | Class Write Up Follow On/Up |
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Kink/BDSM/Leather Books & Resources

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3am Seeking Surrender

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It's 3:00am on a warm Spring night in NYC.  The city and its inhabitants have dozed off, gaining strength for tomorrow's usual urban push and shove.  I should be asleep.  I wish I was asleep, but for the first time in a long time, the need to surrender dogs my soul.  It's fucking ironic that the toughest moments of being unowned always seem to be after I've been in Top Space.  How fucking cliche and stereotypical is that?  ~augh~ Anyone who knows me understands those are two adjective rarely applicable to me, but it is what it is. No, I didn't beat anyone's ass, but tonight I test drove another class. the one I was most unsure of concept wise—The 9 Service Languages of Authority Transfer Relationships/Dynamics.   It was a LOT of fucking content, but the concept seems to have resonated well with the handful of seasoned M/s veterans I tested my theory with tonight.   The Top Space energy combined with the vibe of success has left me humming.  I've meditated. 
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A Return to Pleasure

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No lie, it's been waaaaaay too fucking long, and with the pandemic it's been incredibly difficult to create consistent sources of pleasure.  So difficult I'd forgotten what soul deep pleasure even felt like until tonight.  I was not ready.  I didn't have a clue what was in store for me.   Forty-five minutes into the most decadent, slow, insistent, thorough yet subtle mouth-fucking I've ever had, shivers ran down my spine as my senses and nerve endings finally caught up with and began to interpret correctly the seduction and sheer joy of my experience.  My entire body tingled, and in that instant when the visceral responses flooded my system...I surrendered and nearly cried. There was no rush.  Every minute felt longer than the last.  I never knew a leisurely mouth-fucking could be so damn epic.  Those steady, unassuming, nuanced strokes teased me with each mouthful.  My greedy lips gentled and discovered a rare patience as I sank into the wonder and delight of every
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Confessions of a Monster

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The following piece was written for last night's ONYX Pearls NY-NE's February 2021 Event—Confessions of Love & Lust: Spoken Word & Cigar Social. My first public reading... ") Thank you to my Leather Sisters and Siblings for the chance to share my words and to everyone who attended as well as ALL the love and finger snaps for my piece!!! ~DominaKat Another long winter’s night has consumed the city, and the cold has seeped well into its pores. A glance out the window of my five story walkup proves again that the once never dormant streets of New York are abandoned. No souls dare the bitter walk or the lonely drive at this hour. With a sigh I roll over, and my nude flesh snuggles deeper into my warm nest of dark linen sheets and soft blankets. Only the strange unbroken silence of a pandemic-gripped world and haunting memories of long ago passion attempt to lull me to dreams. Despite exhaustion nagging my soul, sleep refuses to come. Maybe...if I confess...mayb
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My Needs in a TPE

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My blog posts are a bit daunting to sift through, so I pulled together a short list in case the question what I'm looking for in regards to M/s ever needs a serious response. Yes, the definition of "needs versus wants" is always a thing.  My subjective criteria: If x was NOT a foundational aspect of my relationship, would it significantly impact my surrender and ability to serve?  So...if I was to have a strong 24/7 Authority-Based Relationship that encompassed most aspects of my life... My Relationship Needs in an Ideal TPE Situations To grow, learn, evolve...to positively impact me and my journey True to me | a lioness not a pirouetting renaissance fair chic or a helpless clueless lamb (I can not be less, so he can fake like he's more.) [ This Woman's Submission... ] A competent/compatible partner* I can connect with and believe in | an ability to align wills [ My Reverse Matryoshka Doll... ] To belong/be claimed/be wanted | a functional Owner/property
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My Inherent Search for Power Exchange

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I'm not going to bullshit.  The desire right now to be well and truly Owned by an M-type who is stronger, smarter, more capable than me is visceral. Don't get me wrong.  It isn't overwhelming or crippling.  I continue to stand fucking STRONG in the face of this tsunami that has flooded NYC.  I am blessedly still working, and as soon as my day is done I start the work/effort of supporting the community I love so much however I can. Of course throughout the day I also handle a myriad of tasks.  I stay informed as much as I can on the status of all the things by catching Cuomo's press conference, scrolling the news feeds, and reading the emergency notifications.  I dash out every few days for a super quick trip to the store to replenish essentials and to stretch my legs so used to eating up two miles of the concrete jungle a day.  Most of all, I virtually connect with friends and family in an endless warm loop of love, concern, compassion, and support.  I eat.  I exe
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My Failure to Embrace Basic M/s Tradition | The Rebellious Non-Petitioning slave/property

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The Tradition that a slave/property/s-type should/must formally petition any potential Master to be His slave is like a shard of glass in my Leather boot. No matter how many ways I look at it...the concept rips to shreds the fundamental foundation of imbalance that M/s dynamics demand. There...I've said it.  Written it.  In fucking bold font, thank you very much.  I've held back making public my very non-traditional view for over three years.  I had hoped in vain that at some point I would read, hear, SEE the wisdom and logic behind an s-initiated approach to beginning an M/s relationship.  Despite numerous books, classes, and discussions, I've yet to find an answer.  In fact the more I learn, the firmer my rejection of the "s-types should petition to serve" Tradition becomes. My issue boils down to one very clear point.  If the slave/property-type is the one who has to research an M-type to discover if there might be a good fit and then petition the M wit
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Is Control the Bane of Pleasure and Authenticity?

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Why "Owner/property" Rather than "Master/slave"?

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A question came my way last month, "Why Owner/property?  As opposed to Master/slave?"  I struggled to answer beyond, "'Property' felt right.  'Slave" has never worked for me."  I didn't add at the time that neither has "Master."  (I was trying to be semi-well-behaved and not offend anyone.)  I've always struggled to answer the 'property' vs 'slave' question, but I searched deeper on my train ride home and have continued to play with the puzzle pieces.  Turns out, there was a lot to unpack and fit together. There are many implied nuances that apply to both "slave" and "property":  belonging, protected, the follower of a leader, etc.  All of those resonate deeply within me.  Always have.  However, FOR ME, "slave" felt inherently wrong, like a dress that fit poorly and whose fabric itched the moment it touched my skin.  Despite my knowledge that I have been/could be utterly devoted to
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