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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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Sunday Service

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Come to church. Join me in our reverent blessings As your hands skim the curves of my soft heated flesh. Nuzzle your lips against my ripe nipples. And slide your firm fingers between the open gate of my thighs. Feel the serenity that awaits your pulsing hard dick. Our sacred ritual begins. Hands, lips, and tongues dance across wanton skin. A tangled testimony of need and desire. I kneel and lower my body in surrender. Across our plush alter of sheets and bedding. And raise my ass to offer you entrance to paradise. Sink into the warm sanctuary of my wet welcoming cunt. Our salvation nears with each thrust of your bulging head into my tight womb. Slick passage strokes the spiritual fires within us. The power of our passion. Raises us toward the sacred. And together we sing loud our hedonistic hymns.  Of thankful sighs. Rejoicing grunts. And groans of wicked homily. With reverent prayers. We cum together in convulsive bliss. A mutual hot baptism baths our spent bodies. We utter whispered
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A Return from Service

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April brought an overwhelming and instinctual call to service.  Not the romantic kind.  Nor the sexy or kinky kind.  The deep rooted Vanilla Family kind.  With a single phone call, my view of the short term future shifted dramatically.  I did my best to honor significant service commitments (UPRISE!) already in motion and paused everything else, especially those I had been considering.  My horizon line immediately became how best to navigate a family need within the constraints impacting the world at large.  I had to be there.  Everything else was a very distant second. I trust the Universe to guide my path and place me where I am supposed to be.  Even with a myriad of ever moving issues, never before has timing worked out so smoothly or precisely.  Once I gave up the worry and fight to wrestle down the logic of everything, I simply surrendered to the currents at hand, and my path was cleared almost effortlessly to get me where I needed to be when I needed to be there. Despite the seri
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To Write Again...Part of My Evolution.

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It's been a long fucking time since I've written much or written often.  The last year fucked us all up.  My coping tool for it all was to shut down emotions as much as possible and focus on service. Covid in NYC...fuck.  I would have gone mad if I'd let myself dwell in all that fucking turmoil, fear, and pain.  So...service.  Between work and lifestyle efforts I was putting in 12-16 hours a day from March 2020 until about the end of May.  Then I had to let all that angst go. Social Justice...fuck how shocked was I when a good portion of the world finally woke the fuck up at least for a few minutes.  Nope...ya didn't see me post.  Nope...ya didn't see me fight with trolls.  Nope...I didn't sink into my emotions of annoyance, frustration, and pure deep seated anger.  So...service.  For me being an ally is so much more than words, more than useless social media likes/loves, more than a t-shirt slogan or a sign.  It's about fucking WORK.  All in kinda work.  Li
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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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2021 | Dream Big

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In the time of Covid, to dream takes on a whole new meaning.  To dream of better days.  To dream of our mask-free past and someday future filled with the warmth of friends close by and laughter in the air.  To dream of carefree travel.  Of love and romance and of course...hope.  Of the sexiness of withering flesh and sweet pain at play parties, joyous leather bar nights with thumping bass, and of warm conferences where we gathered en masse as community. Fortunately, I'm not the type of masochist to dwell on things outside my reach or ability to manifest.  I refuse to torment myself with the thoughts of what cannot be.  I wait.  Someday the world and the advances of medical science will safely re-open all those doors once again to me and the community in some capacity. Until then...with emotional and physical needs like love, play, kinkiness, submission, topping, relationship(s), etc all trapped in the muck of Covid, my wheels have spun for months.  Books teased nuanced new flavors
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A Lioness at the Mouth of Her Liar

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It's been rare that I write from the soul anymore.   Most of 2019, I was flat out too busy.  Hell...I've never been that "socially" busy in my life, and I didn't even have a relationship to service!  LOL Friends.  Work.  Family.  Pledging.  My co-hosted Lifestyle discussion groups—S&M.NYC and NYC slave Meetings.  The Community in general.  I'd spend 12+ hours in Manhattan, coming home to my Borough exhausted yet satisfied I'd made the most of my day and the opportunities in front of me. Then 2020...fuck what a damn mess.  I saw it coming earlier than others, and I started to prepare practically as well as mentally and emotionally.  Yet, the reality of it was nothing I'd imagined.  The endless scream of the sirens until finally...blessedly...someone official must have told them to cut the sound.  No cars, no bikes, no people dared our once energy-pulsing streets.  The coo of pigeons and tentative tweets of birds I don't know the name of filtered
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My FUCK Covid! Post

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FUCK, Covid!  I've been a socially defiant bitch more often than not.  When the world starts going one way, something in my mind always tells me to jump off that bus. Yeah...this fucking sucks.  Everywhere for everyone it sucks.  COVID (either it or the fear/threat of it) is everywhere.  But for fuck sake...does it HAVE to insinuate itself FULLY into Fet?!? If Facebook has turned into a political, socially dividing, fact-checking, misleading propaganda machine, then FetLife has turned into a giant mother fucking emotional therapy support center of tears and sniffles and traumatized blank stares. Look...I get it!  This shit is HARD...physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  I've been sheltering-in-place for 67 days in a NYC apartment with no private backyard, no balcony, no front stoop.  I need and want an escape...but since the hot, fun, and sexy has all but evaporated from my favorite kink site, Fet's only escape option is a list of virtual classes where
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