Blog – Page 7 – Mistress Veronica NYC

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Pride Parade Ponderings

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Well, Gay Pride has come and gone. Such a fun time. It seems like you can go to a different party every night, and that it goes on for far longer than is reasonable.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn (although it’s so easy!), but have been going (off and on) since the 90’s. I was a teenager, and not “out”. I wasn’t sure if I was gay, as I hadn’t tried being with a girl yet. I was (and am) lucky enough to have a sister who was a crazy pagan lesbian vegetarian counter-culturalist forward-thinker who took me to Pride and all kinds of festivals where I saw Kim Airs wearing a strap-on and traffic cones on her breasts, amongst other things. It was exquisitely bizarre, and I am so grateful for those glimpses, being brought up in a very conventional environment.

But as I was waiting and waiting for the float I was on to start moving yesterday, I got frustrated. I mean, it took us four damned hours just to get started. Then I began thinking about the first time I went to the parade (when it was technically a “march”, which is different). I remember my sister being hesitant about taking me because there was an actual level of danger. It’s hard to imagine today, but back then the “march” was an act of protest. It was defiant. We are talking before “Will & Grace”, before “Glee”, clearly, before “Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” went on goddamned fucking Broadway but was a small film your friends told you about that weirdly starred Agent Smith from “The Matrix”. The shit was Real. You could get things thrown at you, there were bomb threats, and about 20% of the people there were protesting against it. For all of these reasons, I stopped being frustrated and realized how far everything has come. It’s good that the parade is so large and so popular.

When I was a kid, I was spellbound by the freakish levels of abject randomness and how comfortable everyone was with whatever fantastical creature the march welcomed anyone to be. I fell in love with drag queens, and smiled at them with a starry-eyed stalker-like quality which I’m sure was a little scary- but which I still do because I find them absolutely bewitching. I met a curious man with door knockers in his nipples and scarification all over his chest (who was a banker in his vanilla life, not surprisingly to any of us, but which was to my 16 year old mind). It was probably the first time in my life I felt genuinely afraid and happy at the same time (probably a feeling a lot of bottoms can relate with). Especially when I saw Dykes on Bikes, who were at the very front. I remember being scared by the sound of the Harleys, and then burst into tears. I’m not sure why. It’s silly, really. I mean, their name alone is pretty ridiculous. But I think it was the first time I had seen a powerful group of women en masse wielding machines with utter assuredness. It was an unabashed expression of female power and toughness, and it overwhelmed me. Now that I think about it, the placement of the biker babes was probably strategic. Not only because motorcycles are unreliable when stopping and starting, but it’s a show of force in an otherwise vulnerable seeming population. (Lest we forget drag queens started the Stonewall Riot– which is the reason Pride exists).

Sure, Pride has become very commercialized, it’s lost a lot of it’s protest “edge”, it’s too large and clunky, it disturbs traffic, and the sheer defiant excitement of being outrageous in the face of forceful opposition is gone. But while I was looking out into the crowd of people yesterday– smiling and waving and cheering and dancing- I felt the spirit of freedom of expression and universal concepts of love and acceptance are still at the heart. However you want to be, you can be. With enthusiasm. I’m pretty sure that having the experience of going when I was 16 did something toward assuring me that whatever pansexual, kinky, bizarre feelings I was having were fine, and even a positive thing. And I’m cool with that.

xoxo.

Serving some Pride Clown realness, bitches!

3 Whole Free Minutes!

On Niteflirt. With me!

Ha, ha, not much of a deal. But see if you can amuse me regardless… If you’re a speed talker you could probably get an entire scene in!

Phone Sex on NiteFlirt — Speak to your desire

A good cheek pounding, and it’s rewards…

Last night, I had no idea how much fun I would have… Thank you, my dear!

I had decided earlier in the night that I wanted to use my hands to torture my sub, so didn’t bother to bring any implements to the party. He can take a lot of impact, so I decided I wanted to go to town on his ass (he was wearing assless chaps, so practically begging for it). We started out with spanking, which made loud thwacking noises throughout the room. I was surprised and delighted by the sound, and smiled for a moment to myself of how compatible my hand is with his buttocks. I continued with measured, steady smacks until his ass was red and warm. My hands felt the same way, but I didn’t care because the sound and his reactions and his surrender were so satisfying. I then held his head in place by his hair to let him know that there would be no thrashing and no resistance (I might have stroked it too, to calm him…) I then got the idea to punch his ass. Bent over the bench, I gave him some soft reverse punches to warm him up. He didn’t say anything… so I knew he was ready for more. Keeping my fists close to my ears, from a fighting stance I twisted my body forward, bringing with it the impact of my tightened fist. His back arched, and he positioned himself for another. I kept punching and hearing the “thwack” noise, and twisting, keeping my impact at a steady medium force at first, and then adding one hard one every so often to shock him. I pulled his hair from his eyes, looked at him and saw the puppy dog look that I love to see from any sub when he’s in the throes of my passion. I bent him over again, and gave him a blizzard of hard punches to his ass. Twist, thwack, twist, thwack, twist, thwack! I rubbed him and bent over him, hugging him from behind, pinching a nipple to remind him that his plight might not be over just yet.

And it wasn’t. Now… I would not normally do this to anyone walking down the street (although when someone walks into me while staring at their phone, I feel like it), but my sub and I are two risk-aware kinky adults. In martial arts, the abilities to be precise both target-wise and with degree of impact are tantamount. I have been practicing for three years, so when I got the idea (let’s call it more an “itch”) to punch my sub in the cheek- I knew I could punch him there to hurt him, and not do any permanent damage. I told him I wanted to, and he seemed excited by the idea. The first punch was light– I was gauging my distance and force, in martial arts we would call this a “check”. The second punch was a bit harder, but right on target. The wet thwack was loud, but not really loud enough :). I made sure he was ready for a harder third punch– I connected perfectly and the sound coming out of my fist and his cheek was the plump crack I wanted. So satisfying. So great. I kissed his cheek. He kissed my hand. I hugged him again, it felt so good.

When I sat down, I realized that I had done this:

And I love it!! A wonderful reminder of a tremendously fun night.

xoxo.

:D

VIOLENT FEMS WELCOME MISTRESS SERVALAN!

Get ready to put your big boy pants on, as we will be inducting MISTRESS SERVALAN into the VIOLENT FEMS Hall of Fame on Sunday, May 27th 7pm at BillyMark’s West! This jet-setting Australian beauty only graces us with her presence once every few years, so we are ecstatic to celebrate her arrival by leaving a bevy of bruised and broken boys in her wake!

A bit of background on our guest of honor:

Known by the authorities variously as The Duchess, aka The Trainer, aka The Flossie Aussie, she is the great-granddaughter of a peer banished to the colonies for unmentionable reasons. Amongst her various talents, Duchess learned to control large animals as a child on her family property… she also rode horses.

In recent years she has has travelled extensively sometimes just one step ahead of the authorities – sailing the world by private yacht leaving a trail of well-trained and well marked creatures in every port. Interpol estimates she may be planning to infiltrate the United States where she has been linked to the well known and nefarious Violent Fems gang…

More information can be found here, on her website (although for shame if you have not already visited it many times over…):(Visit Mistress Servalan’s website)

Oh, the nefariousness we will share! Oh the horrors that the subs of New York will endure! Oh, what a treat for everyone involved!

THIS IS A FEMDOM PARTY. NO CISGENDER MALE DOMS ALLOWED TO GET JIGGY ON OUR TURF.

A note on how it goes down:

We consider this party to be far far removed from the run-of-the-mill fetish party in the sense that it is more a theater in the round. We dress up, we have certain people on whom we stage “attacks” (the attackees), we use gang implements, mostly, rather than whips and floggers, and we’re also friendly. You will not come to the party and stand around being bored waiting for someone to pay attention to you. If you are patient and don’t get in our way, we eventually say hello to everyone. You just have to be patient and respectful. Should I state that one more time? Patient and respectful, thanks!

There are two tiers, as you well know: $10 for observers, and $50 for ATTACKEES Don’t know what an attackee is, but are interested? Email me at mistressveronicanyc@gmail.com BillyMark’s West is located on 29th St and 9th Ave in NYC.

**FYI, the party starts promptly and ends at 11pm, so if you show up at 10pm, you might miss the hot action! If you come before 7pm, you will be thrown out, and not in a good way.**

IF YOU STILL DON’T KNOW WHO WE ARE, PUNCH YOURSELF IN THE DICK AND THEN CLICK HERE: http://www.violentfems.com

xoxo.

Da Kingpin

Submissive Men vs. Drag Queens

A quote from Andy Warhol:

“Drag queens are living testimony to the way women used to want to be, the way some people still want them to be, and the way some women still actually want to be. Drags are ambulatory archives of ideal moviestar womanhood. They perform a documentary service, usually consecrating their lives to keeping the glittering alternative alive and available for not-too-close inspection. … I’m fascinated by boys who spend their lives trying to be complete girls, because they have to work so hard — doubletime — getting rid of all the tell-tale male signs and drawing in all the female signs. I’m not saying it’s the right thing to do, I’m not saying it’s a good idea, I’m not saying it’s not self-defeating and self-destructive, and I’m not saying it’s not possibly the single most absurd thing a man can do with his life. What I’m saying is, it is very hard work. You can’t take that away from them. It’s hard work to look like the complete opposite of what nature made you and then to be an imitation woman of what was only a fantasy woman in the first place. When they took the movie stars and stuck them in the kitchen, they weren’t stars any more — they were just like you and me. Drag queens are reminders that some stars still aren’t just like you and me.”

Warhol was a condescending fucking asshole, but he had a point (not about the self-defeating, self-destructive part). Drag queens were and are stewards of the female archetype. As are Dominatrices, which is why submissive men are drawn to us. Look at almost any Dominatrice’s website: the nurse, the schoolteacher, the femme fatale, the equestrian. The list goes on. Drag queens express femininity in much the same way. Their focus is more on hollywood glamour for the most part, but the notion of playing a character remains.

Something really funny about straight men is that they get really uncomfortable around drag queens. You might be thinking to yourself, “Not me! All my best friends are drag queens!” To which I say, calm down, Princess. I’m not trying to attack anyone. It’s just an interesting phenomenon– which I was reminded of at a friend’s brunch a few weeks ago. We had RuPaul’s Drag Race playing in the background, and were commenting and screeching at it like any normal people would do :), when one submissive man (who until then I had thought was very open-minded– and trust me, he should be) was totally flummoxed. He balked. He couldn’t believe that they were embarrassing themselves like this… blah blah blah. I tried to explain how important I think drag culture is, but discovered he could not understand. Or didn’t want to… Well, shit, man. That’s so fucking lame. And so fucking banal. Oh really? You’re a straight white dude who doesn’t want to understand where a stigmatized group of people are coming from? Really? Surprise. But it’s especially disheartening to me coming from a submissive guy, because I expect them to be smarter and more enlightened than the average Joe. By virtue of being stigmatized!! I see this discomfort over and over again at every drag performance I attend. The drag queens must see it too, or else they wouldn’t take the men up on stage to perform simulated sex acts. The men with their girlfriends immediately seem out of their element. And I don’t think it’s just because they know they’re going to get made fun of. They’re going to be prey. Perhaps it’s the first time they feel sexually vulnerable. I think most women have the experience of being around large groups of men and know they are being evaluated for their potential sexual whathaveyou. Men come to drag shows having never had this experience and their anxiety is palpable. They don’t know how to handle it. It’s funny to see, actually.

But it also pisses me off. I’m sure there are a shit ton of cisgender female Dommes who are weirded out by drag queens. I don’t mean to imply this is purely a sub or purely a guy thing. However, I don’t think we realize how much we resemble drag culture not only in terms of powerful feminine archetypes, but also in terms of stigmatization re: being seen as scary or fucked up, or essentially leper-like untouchables. There is a cultural idea that there is something psychologically “gone wrong” with kinky people, which we all know is simply not true. Or more precisely, it’s an oversimplification of a world where fear or the threat of fear plays a strong role. Drag culture is no different in these ways. Gender fucking is scary to people. Even Warhol saw it as pathological. (He was one to talk!)

So this fear or rejection of people who fuck with gender is similar to a fear many express toward those with alternative sexualities. Or as I like to call us- sexuality fuckers. Until I think of something with fewer syllables… Fuck fuckers would be funny, but alas, a bit redundant.

Not familiar with drag culture? Watch the definitive documentary for free, here (it’s a little over an hour, and incredibly fascinating):

Paris Is Burning

odd fetishes

lady who loves the berlin wall

lady who loves an amusement park ride

lady who wants to be parapalegic

objectum sexuals and how they differ from fetishists. perhaps they are fetishists with a pygmalion complex?

what can we learn from them?

is it an extreme form of naming your car?

zit popping fetishes

why don’t they exist? it’s almost as bad as poop.

It’s Aliiiive!

The picture below is from my last session with Frank, who made me the clip attachments because he’s a glutton for punishment.

Looking closely, as I know you want to (but will probably regret), I have electrode pads sticking to either side of his balls, and 25 gauge needles through his scrotal skin. Then, taking the alligator clips that were plugged into my Erostek, I attached them to the needles. He described the pain as “piercing”. Well, duh!

Are you horrified? Good. Kind of gives a new meaning to the phrase, “Tingly Naughty Bits”.

xoxo.

Violent Fems “Strike” A Pose

This is just a small taste of our most recent photoshoot! Notice how incredibly cool we all look. We based it on a combination of The Hustler with Paul Newman, and Reservoir Dogs. Courtesy of Natasha Gornik! See more of her work here: natashagornik.com

DON’T MISS FEBRUARY 19TH! OUR NEXT PARTY! SEE POST BELOW!

Waiting for a victim…

The last thing you will see…

Jauntily displaying my weapon.

Eightball in the corner pocket, ba-da-bing!

This is an actual random man. Not kidding. Volunteering for punishment!

See post below for more party details. Damn, we’re cool!

xoxo.