I close my eyes, as directed. 

"What do you hear?" Henry asks. 

"The dogs playing, the air conditioner in the bedroom, you moving around on the chair," I respond.  A distant yet familiar feeling immediately presents itself under the darkness of my eyelids.  The thoughts slide into my mind, involuntarily.  The hope that my answer was correct, the fear of disappointing her, the familiar discomfort of vulnerability.  I feel a bit silly for succumbing so quickly and pull myself back, comforting myself with the understanding that my eyes are simply closed, nothing to fear.

"What else can you hear?" she asks as she begins slowly walking across the hardwood floor.  "Your high heels on the floor," I respond, trying to sound confident, still hoping that's the right answer.  "I need you to see with your ears, see me walking through the room," Henry says in her low, calming voice.  With that directive, I can see her.  The dark of my eyelids are lit up with the projection of her walking back & forth in my living room, my mind happily grants me the visual.  I can feel the arms of the chair under my hands, my legs touching each other, I wonder what my face looks like.  My mind starts to wander, musing over what it would be like to be blind, senses heightened, I can feel it.  I concentrate on the visual of her walking back & forth, though I lose track of where she is in the room.  My ears are trying to work as eyes but they're failing, I'm descending into the sensations of my body, the consistency of the shoes, walking across the floor.

I feel something in front of me, the rhythm of her pacing has stopped and I realize, she's here.  I can see a version of her face but it's washed out, almost like a watercolour, swirling as my mind struggles to generate an accurate image.  It suddenly becomes clear that there's no sense in holding on to the memory of the outside world and I immediately, involuntarily feel a release.  I melt into the dreamlike version my mind is presenting.  I realize she's been talking in that low, gentle voice this whole time. 

My inner narrative and her voice are speaking directly to each other. 

I witness her speaking to my inner world and I realize the beauty of this offer; I don't need words, I don't need eyes, I just need to surrender.  I'm seeing with my ears as she begins an inventory.  A gentle, methodical inventory.  I watch her speaking to my fears, pulling them out of the darkness.  As she gently pushes my body, she calls out to the corners of my mind. 

She is the authority and I am a witness.

There's a space now between my thoughts and the outside world and this is where she has positioned herself, my advocate.  She invites the negative thoughts, the doubts, the insecurity, the anger & fear to show themselves.  She calmly gathers them in this space and my mind can see her standing up to them on my behalf, all the things I couldn't face alone.  She assesses them objectively and decides that these things are not needed.  She turns around and invites me to banish them.  Henry's watercolour face asks my body to take action, a simple action to complete the work that she has just done.  As I stir from my stillness, I feel tears in my eyes and I act.  I banish them with a breath.  I step into the space that she created, replacing the watercolour version of Henry and now, I'm the advocate. 

The watercolour room becomes more vibrant, more solid and I open my eyes to the most caring, beautiful face looking at me.  I burst out crying and Henry immediately wraps me in a big hug.  In the quiet of the room and the visceral comfort of this connection I realize..

THIS is FemDom.

There is no strength comparable to this.  Steadfast compassion, quiet acceptance and kindness; these are simply the most valuable of human traits.  What a sorely needed reminder for me in my practice of BDSM.   I've recently been immersing myself, deeply, in humiliation based kinks and relishing in the cesspool of disgust and power they elicit in me.  I've been fueling recent scenes with genuine anger and I've lost my sense of balance.  True power is not physically or psychologically beating someone into submission.  True power is holding the most valuable thing in your hands and choosing to share it.  Every woman has this power within them, from the day they are born, until the day they die.  We are always the advocates of whatever form of power we choose. 

​Choose wisely.

I implore you to book a session with Lady Henry, she's a living, breathing piece of artwork. 

Immerse yourself in her amazingly crafted website & book a session at www.LadyHenry.ca

It's like being underwater for just a little too long, seeing the surface from below and realizing you're already out of breath as you float up, just a little too slow.  Your chest becomes concave & panic sets in.  There's the panic inside and there's the stillness outside.  The stillness & weight of the whole ocean holding you, an apathetic witness to your pain.  You're somehow aware of this stillness and the futility of your fear, even in the midst of the thousand fire alarms going off in your head.  The place where the water divides from the air becomes a fantasy, a day dream, as you draw closer in slow motion.  As you surface, your body draws in the most primal breath you've ever experienced.  This automated function has gained an amazing new level of gratitude, a new level of meaning.  You've been forcefully ejected from the mindless pattern you were in & suddenly find yourself in a new, beautiful world.  The ocean is warm & kindly embraces you, holding you to the surface, the place you were dreaming about.  The sun is bright & feels as though it will never set again.  You can taste the salt on your lips and you have no thoughts, just an overwhelming gratitude, a relief, a feeling of sinking back into the perfection of your painless body.

You are here.  You are alive.

I am the ocean.

You've broken me down, Masochists.  You elusive, beautiful animals.
I will draw you out of your hiding places.  I will go at your pace.  I need you.
Monday's will be 50% off for Masochists.

I smirk as I ask the man sipping my golden latte in a busy coffee shop, "So what are you into?" 

"I'm into pretty much everything" he responds with a smile.

SIGH.  I used to get excited when I got this answer, now I just feel irritated.  I've come to identify this response as the hallmark of the under-prepared novice.

I reply, "Cool, I LOVE ballbusting".

"Oh, not sure I'm ready for that!  Actually I'm not really into pain that much".  he replies.

Wah.  WAH.  You're not into pain yet here you sit with a Sadist.  You're into everything yet you won't let me kick you in the balls.  You want to "lose control" yet you have a very precise idea of what you want that I'm suppose to tease out of you.  That's fine, I will do that, I will cycle through fetishes you don't like and find the ones you do but this is your warning:  that is a very expensive way to get your kinky needs met.

When submissive's say they like everything they generally fall into one of two camps:  humiliation & surrender.  People who want to be used or humiliated like the idea that I can do whatever I want to them, they will be used for my entertainment or pleasure.  This is the murky water I'm talking about.  That could entail me pissing on them, ignoring them, inflicting pain, teasing/edging, ruining orgasms, foot worship, needle play, making them perform domestic duties, restraining them, pegging them.  The possibilities are extensive. 

The second (more elusive) group are the surrenderers, they tend to be older and more experienced.  They enjoy giving up control, the element of surprise, the meditative qualities of surrender.  I can cycle through fetishes with these submissives and they truly enjoy pleasing me, they may even enjoy doing things they don't like because it brings me joy.  I, in turn, reward them with their favourite kinks.  This is where rich, back & forth, BDSM relationships thrive, this is a proper power exchange.

I don't require you to be into everything - far from it!  I want you to enjoy yourself & I want to indulge in a shared kink with you.  Don't hand me the reigns then try to take them back.  For a Domme, there's no bigger disappointment.  Do your research, set your boundaries and come to me prepared.  Think about what kind of fantasy you have mapped out in your mind, then deconstruct it to the point where you know what your kinks are.  Think about what kind of FemDom porn you watch, what are the themes?

My list of kinks are here.  I'm open to other ideas, just ask.  Outside of session is when we communicate openly about our boundaries.  Once we're in session, you hand total control over to me.  You have two tools to work with:  your safewords & ability to trust, I'll take care of the rest.  I'm offering something really beautiful if you'll let yourself accept it.

As I wrapped his hands in duct tape I tell him that if he wants to act like an animal, I'll happily treat him like one.

"You want to make me happy don't you?"

"Yes Mistress"

"Puppies make me happy"

"Yes Mistress"

I wrap the tape around his new paws a few times, I love the sound of duct tape stretching laid over the whimpers of a grown man.  I slip my leather belt around his neck as a make shift collar & leash. 

Everyone knows that training a puppy takes patience and mommy isn't feeling very patient today.

"You want to go outside?" I ask in a high, excited voice. "You wanna go pee-pee outside?"  He whimpers in agreement as I lead him to the bathroom.  I position him in the bath tub on all fours and scoot him to the back, making room for myself to stand. 

"Okay, we're outside now, I show you what I want you to do" I explain as I pull my panties to the side and relieve myself in front of his face.  He's panting as I step out of the tub.  I'm training him to clean me up when I make a mess so I extend my leg and lead his face to my inner thighs.  "Lick it up".  His tongue tries to wander further up, I smack him and with a stern "Bad dog" he learns an important boundary.  Like I said, Mommy doesn't have patience for nonsense today.

I'm coaxing him, asking him to be a good boy and pee for me.  He seems to be nervous so I wait, telling him to relax and lift his leg like a filthy dog.  Finally it starts, a steady stream of urine passing his duct taped paws into the drain.  When he's done, I lean down and whisper in his ear, "Does it look like we're outside?".  He goes silent and still, trying to determine the appropriate response.  I ask him again, "Does it look we're fucking outside?  Did you just piss in my house, you little shit?".  The whimpering resumes at a higher, faster pace.  I slip the belt off  his neck, double it over itself and hold it in my right hand as I grab the back of his head with the left, shoving his disobedient face into his own piss.  "Bad dog!  BAD dog!". 

I begin beating his ass with my thick leather belt as he whimpers in pain.  I left some lovely marks on his ass, a reminder of his training for the days to come.

You may not know this about me but I've got a sweet spot in my heart for sissies.  Like many fetishes, its origins are confusing.  Part of me loves the fact that a man is drawn to emulate a woman, they could do anything they want in the sexual spectrum and they choose to feminize themselves.  It's like a roundabout compliment in a way.  The other part of me resents that this is done as an act of humiliation for some.  Done behind closed doors, an embarrassing secret.  I suppose my role is to meld these two perspectives, to coax and seduce the sissy out from the darkness of shame and into the beauty and power of femininity.  

I had an amazing session with my favourite sissy, let's call him Danielle.  He usually has a lovely, deep, soothing voice but that won't do for a sissy at all.  I dressed him in lingerie, blindfolded him and tied him to the bed.  Danielle is resistant to his nature so the restraints were more of a psychological aid than anything.  Danielle tries to revert to vanilla/hetero normative behaviour regularly, although he just doesn't belong there.  I want Danielle to come out and be my girlfriend, I want us to bask in feminine energy together and leave behind the ideas of what sex should look like.. and sound like.

With Danielle fully fixated on the sounds around him, I demonstrate.  I start playing with myself beside him, this is what a woman sounds like when she's turned on, beckoning arousal from others with her breath and subtle noises.  Danielle's turn.  She's resistant, giggling, uncomfortable.  Her laughter is met with my big, pink dildo being forced into her mouth.  Try again.  Danielle works well with discipline, she doesn't love gagging on that dildo with no way to resist, moaning seems the better option now.  She moans and I direct her to beg me.  Beg me to rub her wet clit so she can cum, cum with that nice, pink cock in her mouth.  It's all about positive association.  If she associates the positive sensation of an orgasm with the feeling of my strap on deep in her throat, she'll soon start to crave my cock all the time.  Just like I wanted.

​Bastienne

I had a lovely little chat with a friend today about the creativity that's involved in BDSM.  As the Dominant, I feel like I'm a storyteller, my submissive gives me the bare-bones, the acts they want to experience, their limits, their kinks.  From there it's my role to weave that into something real, believable and often unpredictable.  

How do you surprise someone with an action that they've explicitly told you they want performed?  

That's the fun part about being given the reigns: the freedom of creativity and the possibility of surprising someone with their own plot.  In my experience, that's the key to gaining loyalty from submissives.

​Bastienne

Fetishes come from somewhere real, somewhere hidden, some place that needs the sweetness of our sexuality to dilute the bitterness of its darkness.  It moves first through the filter of our sexuality, into our periphery.  From there we can choose to bring it into the foreground or let it dance in the corner of our eyes forever.

Luna & I had an amazing session this past week with someone who had been bullied in High School.  He wanted us to dress like bratty teenage girls, teasing and verbally humiliating him while we deprived him of oxygen and spit in his face.  There's a big difference between a contrived fantasy and a deep kink.  Both are lovely, the later is breathtaking to witness.  I knew how to exact the difference out of this submissive, I asked "What did they call you?"  His immediate look of shame and down-cast gaze made my eyes dilate like a predator that just caught a glimpse of it's dinner.  That weak spot.  That dark place.  I'm in.

We proceeded to have an awesome session, genuinely making each other laugh at this guys expense.  We even waited until mid session to "steal his lunch money" aka the session fee.  He bounded into the other room so fast to grab his wallet, Luna & I howled with laughter.

After he left, I got a nice text from him saying that the whole session was amazing but his favourite part might've been standing at the elevator afterwards listening to us burst into genuine laughter down the hall after he had left.  These are my favourite kind of sessions.

​Bastienne