from a client (do your research before you surrender to a stranger)
"You are still in my bloodstream - you were the first to bite me and I am forever yours. How fitting that you put me in a white virginal dress that very first time. And how fitting that on another day, early on, you made me your baby. You took me to places I never even dreamed of - and I dreamed a lot. You showed me things I'll never forget."
Yoga anyone? Do this at home. Do it like Mistress.
Over the years many submissives have commented on how my name, or vision is what keeps them motivated during workouts. They count my name during reps, "one Vontana, two Vontana." They recognize that a submissive who cares for their body is better able to serve his Mistress and the world.
That said, I have been practicing yoga for several years now and although my practice is not consistent - the results are. While wiling away the time in Japan this fall I came across a woman named Adriene. Her channel is called, you guessed it, "Yoga with Adriene."
I am participating in her 30 day program "True." I have found her special combination of spirituality, knowledge and self deprecating humor to be delightful and informative as well as warm and inviting. The guidance she gives on the videos if perfect for at home practice.
If the idea of completing this program together excites you, in more ways than one, please email Mistress a picture of you and let me know what day it is you are practicing in the photo. Confession, although today is the 14th day of the month and the program started on the 2nd I just got started. I'm excited about that actually because it means Mistress (and all willing and competent submissives) will emerge from this journey of inner and outer transformation just in time for Valentines Day (and the release of the 3rd 50 Shades film?).
Below are two videos - the intro to the 30 day program and the practice for day 1 called "motivation." I hope to see you on the mat. Email those pics to dominavontana@gmail.com. Unless you ask Mistress to share your photos, they will be kept private. I like seeing you work, and I always want the evidence (evil snicker). Hugs and happy new year kinksters.
If you are considering booking a session with a professional dominatrix please read below for some words of advice and encouragement from an experienced submissive.
Mistress has just recently started soliciting reviews from regular clients and I have found their words of praise and gratitude to be almost as moving and meaningful as the time we spend together.
I hope that if you are booking a session this spring you will considering surrendering to me, Mistress Domina Vontana. This is especially true if you are a novice.
REVIEW FROM CLIENT:
I have been a loyal client of Domina for over five years. She is the best.
The world of dominatrixes and "mistresses" is full of women who purport themselves as professionals but who in truth are simply in the scene to make an extra buck. Don't trust flashy websites. The reality never lives up to the ads, especially in the mid-Atlantic region.
Domina Vontana is the real deal. She is sexy, but more importantly, she is experienced and trustworthy. Her skills as a dominatrix are superb, but her ability to contour the session to your personal desires are unparalleled. She will leave you wanting more.
Domina has an uncanny sense to understand what you want, and then give you what you need, pushing you beyond your comfort zone.
She is a professional, assuring safety, cleanliness, and discretion.
I can't wait to be encased in her tight bondage again.
Disclaimer #1 - I was super sick in this video but I did it anyway bc #goals
Disclaimer #2 - I totally fucking resent having to consider my appearance every time I post. Like I'm mad jealous of male youtubers who just hop on there w a dash of chapstick and a grin. Like fuck you guys. But it's my fault really. I'm a #libra - so even if I wasn't a woman and socially scorned for my physical appearance, I'd probably still be really obsessed with it. As such, making just these first two videos took a lot of soul searching, vulnerability and risk taking bc
Disclaimer #3 - I don't know shit about lighting, sound, film or editing. So for those of you who say you like it raw - here ya are. And to the haters who love to criticize whilst they sit on their arse doing nothing - here ya go. PS - I eat your hate.
Let Mistress guide you on a deep dive into the male psyche where I will reveal to you the vulnerabilities of would be perps that you can use to flip the script on toxic masculinity.
That day has finally arrived, the day I have resisted for yeeears! I'm officially live on facebook AND Youtube now. The reasons for this are many, but here today I wanted to share my first post. It's a response to some of the comments made during a live stream from one of my favorite youtubers - The Peace Dealer. I reached out to him and told him I wanted to clarify so things after hearing the statements and he said sure.
My intent to reach out on social media is real. My purpose and vision are clear and the time is now. To get started I need at least 1,000 followers on Youtube. I already have almost 2,000 on Facebook www.facebook.com/vontana (you guys and gals are amazing, thank you). So please subscribe to my Youtube channel at www.youtube.com/ministryofkink. I really, really appreciate it.
Enjoy the video.
The rain pours down
And the wipers on the car
Go pat pat pat
And the boy in the back
Seat goes pick pick pick
And the hairs from his
Chinny chin chin
Pepper his white polo sweater
Like so many tiny sins
The rain pours down
And the line on the cell phone
Goes click click click
And the wife in the front seat
Says shit shit shit
And all she hears coming from
The other end is
I’m sorry
There’s no room at the asylum
I kissed a prince
With a hole in his soul
Seated on a pile of gold
I thought our love was,
Special, I thought
My love could make
him whole
What I didn’t know
Is that when you
Pour love into
A hole
That soul
Will never be
Whole
Ok. I lied. Maybe I’m still gonna blog. A little. But only about my dreams. And not my hopes and wishes kinda dreams, but my dreams, dreams. The kinda shit that happens because my scorpio is rising and my IC is on Pisces, and if you know what that means? You know what that means. And if you don’t? Check out youtube.
Dear North Carolina, remember that snow storm in January? That morphed into an ice storm? That turned into three days that no one could go to work because literally all the roads from Durham to Charlottesville we’re a total ice skating rink? Yea, that.
That’s when the slavee decided to show up, relapsed, less than two week out of yet another month’s stint in rehab, in a rental car - already wrecked. FML.
When I heard his voice, it went like this: me waking from a dead sleep “Who is it?” Him: It’s your husband. Me: silently, oh shit.
I had nothing else at that moment, so I decided I wanted a baby, like some females do. Fortunately for me, the Universe is wiser than I, and yet...the Plum tree bloomed. The Japanese plum tree (Ume) that I pasted everyday, covered in snow, now bleeding purfume and dropping heavy pink blooms. My breast exploded. Just three weeks in I found it nearly impossible to hide my secret from friends. I tested positive. I didn’t tell the slave, who was BACK in another rehab.
Then it just happened. I bled. Like females sometimes do.
Yet for three weeks, everyday, I had waltzed over the snow past the tree in our yard, forming its fruits. In Winter. What was it? I asked my roommate, “A japanese plum tree,” he replied. I had never seen a tree that bloomed in winter.
I meditated daily on those branches, on that sweet perfume, on those glorious, defiant fruits until the swelling of my breasts reach their zenith and she was gone.
How do I know it was she? Because she has come to me - everytime. Because her name had been on my lips since the moment I fell in love with her father. Her name was Hazel. And because she came to a friend, who sees all things. And this friend said to me,
“Who is Sue? Who is she?” Sue. Sue? Oh …. Sue.
My friend had seen: Sue cradling my baby, in the nether realm, grasping my unborn daughter’s hand in the other world...Sue was another mother to me - before the tyranny of breast cancer and a lifetime of emotional labor caused her to succumb to an early, undeserved death. The last walk we ever took together, Sue and I, in Montana’s winter land, was at night in the crisp dark air beneath the twinkling stars, between edges of deep snow, holding on to one another. We giggles, we slipped. We grasped one another so we wouldn’t fall. I would never see her again.
So Sue was gone, long ago, left behind in winter’s unwise undoing. And now all these years later I was sniffing the sweet scent of winter’s perfume, but there would be no baby. There would only be fruit that would fall and rot. Hazel was with Sue now, holding hands on the other side.
The seer said, “Hazel wants me to tell you that you did everything right. It wasn’t you. You did everything you were suppose to do. But Hazel won’t come here until the time is right. She wants only the best, for herself, for you, for him. She’s not coming until her father gets his shit together.”
After a month of swelling and sniffing the sweet Japanese plum perfume I wept like the dead when I bled. I hallowed, and few - few understood. They sanctioned me better without the unborn legacy of a man gone mad. They might be right, but so was that soul, that stood so resolute and declared, as she held Sue’s hand, “Mom it wasn’t you - you did everything right. I deserve the most. I won’t arrive until he’s ready too.”
And then I got on a plane and went to Japan. And then he relapsed. And then my heartstrings broke. And then there was no more us. And then...
She haunted me.
The first time I saw her, dreaming on my bed in foreign ground, she was sweet and seductive, as her father lie drowning in a tub of familiar excess, all she said was, “All he wants to do is swim with you.” But water is emotion, and all the buckets in the world couldn’t keep this cohort from drowning so I repeated, “No.” And turned a corner, letting go of her hand. The flashing lights, the opulence, the chaos, “It’s just not my style.” And I left here there, with him.
Hazel, sweet baby Hazel, I didn’t know it was you. I never imagined you would want to hold onto what me, you Mama, couldn’t, didn’t want too. Him. Us. This gateway into this world that you had chosen.
Then she came again. It was deep at night. So long since I’d been touched I felt I might die of fright, freeze right up the next time I came in contact...and there it was. Deep in sleep, late at night, under the veil of Pisces and Scorpio I was TOUCHED. I’ve never lived this long without intimacy, joke as I may about being so tight I’m a born again V-jay, I don’t want dick. All I want is to hold someone tight. To be touched. Contact. Connection.
So there, in the middle of my dreaming night, just last week, as real as this laptop on which I type, an unseen force had emerged from beneath my blankets and I was being touched. And that is all that mattered. Touched. First it was him. Then it was her. Two hands, one on each hip, reaching up from under the covers, grasping, touching, pleasing. Unseen, but felt.
And then they were gone.
And finally two nights ago this karmic story of soul connections came to an end. I gave birth. I felt her crawl, emerge out of my flowering cave, as real as the first time I gave birth and lost. And I begged the nurse, “She’s alive! Where is she? Show her to me!” But she had fled. I had abandoned our dream, because I quit a boy who couldn’t be a man, couldn’t be a father even after she begged me twice not to. I choose myself instead. And that meant she had no more business with me, because our contract? I could not, would not fulfill. Instead of becoming her abandoned, abused mother I chose to free - to free her and me. From a life of uncertainty.
I don’t know where she will be. I don’t know if she ever again will love me, the way she loved me when my breast rose and the petals fell, not so long ago, just last winter, in the snow and the storms, beneath the Japanese plum tree. Her sweet perfume will ever be, my favorite reminder of why I am her and she is she. I’m in Japan. That promise was true. The promise of you? Who knew. Maybe now. Maybe never.
But nonetheless, I love you. I miss her, Hazel. With the emerald eyes and the yellow skin, the copper hair and the unshakable grin. Maybe some lifetime, I’ll get the chance to be your mother, again.
I got better things to do
Than you
I got better things to do
Than things for you
I never got
Any thanks from you
I got better things to do
Fuck you
You called me strong
Because you were weak
You made me think
I was doing something
When really, you were just
Doing nothing
You made me work
Because you were lazy
Had me thinking
I was crazy
When really, you were just
Out drinking
Think you can act like you didn’t lie?
Think you can act like I didn’t try?
Think you can call me disloyal?
It’s called work, I toiled
I sweated, I cried, I tried
For our love for your happiness
I almost died
Ungrateful little bitch
Boy
Should have broke you
And thrown you out
Like a dirty toy
You played
Me
In every way
You played
My heart strings
Everyday
You played
Me
Until
Snap
No going back
You treated my heart like a toy
You acted like a little boy
You think love is a joke
You lied until I choked
You took my best
You threw it out like the rest
Shame on you
You’re not a man
Shame on you
For ever thinking you can
You played
Me
In every way
You played
My heart strings
Everyday
You played
Me
Until
Snap
No going back
I wouldn’t do it again, but
I don’t mind the end
I have peace now
I don’t even wonder how
I ever ever let you
I am love, it’s what I do
Bless my heart
I’m finally free
Bless my heart
You broke her strings
But I hold the key
You played
Me
In every way
You played
My heart strings
Everyday
You played
Me
Until
Snap
No going back
I’m gonna speak
Like you’re right there
Standing in this hallway
Like it’s not bare
I’m gonna scream
Like you’re right here
Standing in the dark
Not god knows where
I’m gonna cry
And pretend you care
That our love is no longer standing
Because you didn’t care
Goodbye to the whore
You couldn’t afford
Goodbye to the cunt
You didn’t deserve
Goodbye to the slut
You couldn’t love
Goodbye to the bitch
You couldn’t handle
Preface - this blog is quite possibly my most personal post to date. I’m not a fan of the personal blog. Mine or any other. That said, I am getting ready to launch my book early next year and need to build my platform. For that purpose I will be returning to my literary roots and slamming you with some mad poetry on these pages from this point forward. I hope you will check back regularly to share my words and thoughts in that form and that in their stylistic and concise way they will reach you and teach you even more than what I have shared so far...because Mistress loves to spit. Spit poetry.
POST
Hey punks - and pumpkins (my Japanese friends get the weirdest looks on their face when I call them that, ‘pumpkin’, because pumpkin is a very popular food in Japan and they know what it is but they don’t know what I mean and it’s not worth explaining so I just giggle and smile at their strange face, struggling to process what the hell I just called them)...
So remember when my last blog post where I waxed poetic about all the progress in my relationship with the slavee/husband? Remember the post before that? My first one in Japan, where I discussed how part of my reason for leaving the US was to escape the wake of his destruction? Well, I sit before you, at my computer screen a humbled woman - once again. Just days after I made the previous post the slave succumbed to his demons of trauma and depression and has disappeared once again down the narrow path of death and destruction that is his level of substance abuse.
The good news? Yes, the good news. This time, two things were different. One, I was too far away for him to seek me out physically with his emotional rage and financial and physical dependency and two...and this one is hard to admit...but it is true nonetheless...my heart strings broke. I am free, finally.
They snapped. Right in two.
We were close. Sooo close. He was to join me this fall, in our new land, our new home. But instead I laid on “our” bed in a foreign land with only myself and the shrill sobbing tore through me mercilessly. I heard myself. I HEARD myself, because often times the pain he has evoked in my life is so deep that it thrust me outside of my body in a dire attempt to survive and not loose parts of myself forever. I disassociate. So there I am, outside of my body, in the dark room, past midnight on this island nation and I hear myself. I really hear her. And I realize I have heard her cry like this once before.
When I was 12 and my life and family were melting down in the ways I would apparently grow to repeat with the slave, I used to curl into a ball in my bedroom, in the basement, at the bottom of the stairs and I would wail. Position three I call it today. I have four standard positions for all slaves. It is also called child’s pose by some of you. I had hoped, back then, that the carpet would do a good enough job muffling my cries that I could avoid my mother’s backlash. But I never did. She would stand at the top of the stairs and shame my expression, deny my pain and over all make me feel like shit for feeling what was happening around us to all of us, and that memory has never left me. Staring up at her through swollen eyes, only to hear her say, “If you keep screaming like that you’re going to ruin your children someday.”
Sidenote - later my mother told me a story about walking into a church for an Alanon meeting only to be greeting by the sounds of a woman's wails. Following the sounds, my mother made her way into the sanctuary, which had a balcony. She walked down the aisle until she emerged from beneath the balcony and could look up, spotting the source of the sound. A beautiful woman with long flowing hair and angelic dress was grasping the railing at the front of the balcony and filling the entire, empty sanctuary with her sobs. When the mysterious woman saw my mother she stopped, looked down, and smiled.
“What are you doing?” My mother asked. No doubt the public plastic smile she has perfected masking her alarm and disgust.
“I’m wailing,” the woman said, “you should try it sometime. It’s great for the soul. Very healing.”
My mother told me that story, I believe, as a form of apology. The only kind of apology she knows - to let me know she knows I’m not the only freak in the world who enjoys practices she cannot fathom, cannot understand.
So right here at this creative impass, what you cannot see reader, is that in this very public Starbucks where I am writing this post (yes they have Starbucks in Japan, Starbucks is everywhere) I am pausing to collect myself because it turns out dealing with the slave’s addiction and my mother’s codependency have become one dual exercise or exorcise in my life at the moment and if I ever wanted two birds with one stone I guess...spiritually...this is it?
So there I am, just a few weeks ago, grown and on the other side of the world, literally as far away from the two of them as I can get, and my father’s grave - my OG of addiction - and there it is again - that sound. There she is again. That wailing female. And she is me.
It didn’t last long. Nothing that painful is sustainable. You either die or you get up and try (again). But that wasn’t the worst part, the strangest part, the most alarming unarming part. What happened next is what will change my life.
I blacked out. I guess. THEN. I woke up. I don’t know what time it was. I was back in my body. I had apparently fallen asleep to the sound of my own sobs. And there it was. THERE IT FINALLY FUCKING WAS.
Relief. A broken heart. The strings, the cords tying me to all that had been and all that I hoped would be had finally snapped. I had found the limits of my own love and after decades of the weight of carrying another’s pain and neglect and abuse I. WAS. FREE. All I felt was relief. Sweet relief. And even sweeter release. All because my sweet heart had finally broken. She'd had a enough.
My mother told me once, "When you've had enough, you will leave."
Let me review this for you, like I needed to do for myself at that scared, silent moment alone in my dark room, lying naked and tear stained on the mattress: my husband relapsed just weeks short of joining me in a new and sparking life and after it tore my heart to shreds all I felt was better.
Hello eclipse season. Hello to the season of Leo, of the heart. Hello to eclipsing the past and blasting into the present, into a new reality. A totally different now.
The best part? I felt zero shame. I felt zero guilt. I felt zero sadness. I did not do this. This was not my choice. This happened TO me. It was the result of my choice to pursue my best life and live in alignment with the universe and the choice of some others to continue to sleep, to choose to not be awake. Some of those emotional zombies are the people I love most in this world - my mother and my husband - but I can’t do for them what every man or woman (or other gender) must do for themselves. My choice to love myself and cling to the universe and it’s love and integrity and purpose somehow freed me a few weeks ago. I’m not sure why, or how or even what the future holds for my loved ones and I but what I do know is that today I am able to live with peace, for the first time, even as they continue to swirl in the turmoil of their own making.
We are not responsible for what others do to us, but we are each responsible for what we do with what has been done to us.
I choose to live, I choose truth, I choose to set boundaries that honor myself and those around me. I choose not to do the work for another that would benefit them the most. I choose me. I choose life. I choose love. I choose to be this alone and feel this isolated in a foreign land without the love of a mother, without the love of a husband. I choose to not have children. I choose art. I choose to create, to contribute, to laugh and to LIVE. I choose the light. I choose to be awake in this life that was a gift given to me. I choose to embrace the light and the dark in all of us. I choose balance. I choose power.
Ok I wasted enough time looking for that one GD perfect picture that would complete this blog to my heart's content - but later...for that...I guess. This one will do tho - Durga (Maa) is a bad ass. She slays demons and upholds moral order. And rides a lion. I dig. Sometimes we are meant to not find the thing we want so we can find the thing we need.
So here we are again, dear hearts. It's the midst of Leo season. Well, actually the very beginning - zero degrees to be exact, and for those of you who do not know that's basically the most important/powerful point that can be occupied by a season, planet, moment, etc.
Why is this significant? Well because after about 15 years of sitting at this laptop creating fabulous content but with little intent I have figured out there are really only two times I write/post - when I'm experiencing PMS or a Leo transit. Like this one, like this Leo transit, that also happens to include two complete eclipses. Praise Be. Praise Be I'm on this side of the world aka Japan and not that one aka America where the solar eclipse will literally pass over the entire country. No, I ain't trying to be that pagan about it - also another reason I ran to Japan.
So here's what's happening - slavee has been sober nearly 9 months. The joy in my heart right now, the gratitude, the trepidation, the faith? Cannot be accurately expressed. My baby was barely 21 when I met him. In a few months he will be 30. I have watched him grow from a boy into a man, from a victim to a champion, from an addict to a human, from a friend, to my enemy and finally my husband. And I have watched myself as a Mistress, a friend and a wife do one very important thing - I have released all the codependent tendencies in my life. I am free of the need, once and for all, to please. Oh what, you thought all doms were selfish cunts? I wish, I wish that were true. It's more true that that paradigm is in reality turned on its head and good dominants are some of the most emotionally and mentally exploited folks in the scene. Yea, that. I could have continued my life, unexamined, and functioned well enough. But the trials and tribulations my husbands trauma and subsequent disease put us through gave me the painful opportunity to truly, deeply and madly look at my own self. And only after looking into the heart of the darkness was I able to find total and complete freedom from my own painful, addiction riddled past (my dad died from the disease). In short, my husband saved me from mediocrity. And to a dominant Goddess who values beauty, raw honesty and efficiency there is no greater gift.
So continuing onward - my husband, my slave, my soulmate is alive. This was something I was not always able to take for granted. There were moments I witnessed death rapping at his door. There were moments I looked at him and said, "The disease is winning, if you want to live you must fight for your life." But he is alive, and he is sober and soon he will join me here, on the other side of the world. And besides riding his perfect cock until it is sore my first agenda is rope, rope and more rope. It has always been slavee's fantasy to experience predicament bondage. I thought I could bottom for rope but alas I was wrong, wrong, wrong. I attended a phenomenon rope dojo last month in Tokyo. I spent exactly 20 minutes in the ropes and a week later work in the middle of the night - every nerve on fire where every fiber of the rope had touched my skin. Thus I am cursed and slavee is blessed that I must relinquish any desire I might have to be inside the ropes (I kinda already knew this) and dedicate my focus to developing the skills of a badass fulltime rope top.
So yes - Leo season. Last summer I wrote the first draft of my manuscript. That too was during a Leo season. I was alone, at the farm in West Virginia and I spent hours everyday doing it. I'm alone again, in Japan, alone for the first time in Japan. My kinky sidekick @kiarrith took a plane home last week after 5 fucking fabulous weeks together that we shared in my new life here. Now...it's just moi. A few weeks ago, the manuscript started to creep back up on me. It was like a glowing energy growing slowly on the horizon. I know it's time to dive back into her again but GD I hate looking at my own work. It. Makes. Me. Feel. So. Uncomfortable. I'm also experimenting with total sobriety and a new workout routine so all of this adulting is just...adulting. I came to Japan to get serious, and boy have I. This former wake and bake babe hasn't hit the stuff in mooonths and I've never been really good at drinking or interested in much else (too scary, something called acid? are you fucking kidding me? no thanks). But I digress...
So here I am in Japan, being all serious, loving this new life even if I must love it differently than my former one. A time, a season, for everything. I like this new season. The thrills are different. So are the people. The subtly and nuance is enough to make one paranoid - or hyper successful. Today I look again at this manuscript - for the first time since I finished it last summer. I don't have children. My message to the world is my child. It's almost time to give birth and set her loose upon the world. Because what you don't need is another tell all, salacious memoir that exploits stigma for a paycheck. But what I can give you, my people, is the lessons I've learned from it aaalll. From being queer, from being a sex worker, from being a Goddess, from being a drag queen, from being a Dominatrix, from being a preacher's daughter, from marrying my slave, from from from from...
Wisdom. That is what makes the world worth going round. Well that and love. Money and sex may MAKE the world go round sure, but hey, that's not a bad thing either.
Hugs. Kisses. Miss Vee
Just wrapped up a 6 way - on skype, you dirty pervs - with the Kanto Area Kink counsel. They are kind enough to let me join them at the sampler workshop they are organizing this weekend in Tokyo. My portion of the event will include sensual bondage (scarves), verbal bondage (D/s) bondage with plastic/saran wrap and quick ties (rope bondage). I hope you can join us. Follow the links below to RSVP on Fetlife.
“ Come give it a try!”
I'm Going!maybe going | not going
Date & Time:in 2 daysSaturday, June 10, 2017 · 2:00 PM – 4:30 PM
Location:
Our Space
#101 2-chome 1-1 Hatagaya, Shibuya-ku 151-0072 @ map
Cost:500 yen at the door.
Dress code:Casual to the door. You may change inside, but keep keep it street legal.
Description:
Have you ever felt like you've been interested in something for a while, and you just needed to get a chance to try it? Here's your chance! We've been talking about it for a while, and Kanto Area Kink is ready to set off our very first Sampler event! Come join us at Our Space for a few hours of education and sampling, provided by a panel of local experts in a safe environment. Here is a list of activities that we came up with, and have been requested by the Community:
-Shibari
-Impact play
-Electrostim play
-Negotiation Skills
-D/s Protocol
-Breath Play
-Burlesque Seduction/Lap Dance
-Wax Play
-Rapid Restraint (quick ties with simple bonds/verbal cues)
-Tantric Kink/Energy Practices
With the possibility of adding more as we get closer!
What can you expect? All these events are available for people to try from either a bottoming or Topping perspective...our presenters are prepared and happy to instruct as well as provide examples! Depending on how many people show, and the popularity/intricacies of each event, each individual session will probably last ten to thirty minutes, depending on the Presenter...this is purely so we can make sure everyone gets a chance to have a go at all the activities they are interested in, and depending on the flow of the evening, it could be possible for more!
As a side note, this event does fall on the same date as the illustrious Torture Garden, but as this is an afternoon event, there is plenty of time for both!
Rules:
-No photography.
-No Alcohol
-Presenters have the right to deny a scene for any reason, primarily safety.
-No play outside stations.
-Presenters and other event managers are the final authority on all matters of safety.
Here is a handy map to the location! http://www.maru-z.com/ourspace/Access.html
If anyone has any questions, or wishes to volunteer as a Presenter for an activity they feel qualified in, please post in the related post in the KAK forums: https://fetlife.com/groups/101379/group_posts/10924…
I gotta write this blog first so I can do anything else. The humidity level is rising (apparently June is the worst in this island nation...rain,rain won’t go away). And my hormone level continues to rise as well. When my cycle finally starts this month it’s going to be like a dam bursting and I’m going to gleefully stand in the flow and drown myself while it all goes down - my tits, my weight, my belly. It ain’t easy being a Goddess. Every month is a near evolution in femininity. I get why some women choose to lock it all behind a chemical door. But that’s not my style. True confession: I live for the red raging river because I never feel more alive than when my entire body is pulsing with the painful sacrifice of shedding and I’m still standing, despite the discomfort, the mood swings, the migraines.
Slavee got dumped, again, this month. Not his fault, the timing anyway. But the reasons? Aaalll his at this point. Mistress is done done done with thirsty bitches. I think this is becoming a recurring theme in the life of this blogger. Recovery ain’t easy either baby and I was a Class A co-dependent for most of my life. But it’s worth it. I’m a giver. I want a giver, because I want balance. Fuck opposites attract - when did that ever make anyone happy? “Love is a meditation in the ultimate surrender” - @nadiyashah (she’s a Class A astrologer who introduced me to the world of Youtube and all it’s fine forecasters and I vibe on her energy she’s so positive a light in a dark world thank you Nadiya).
And the food - dear Goddess how I ache. The stomach. She’s hurting. Am I bitching? Good, I earned it. Two full nights now up and trying to figure out whether I accidentally ate some gluten (ok maybe not sooo accidentally) or whether my spleen is about to rupture. Seriously, I’ve cheated before but it’s never, ever felt like this and I’m starting to get worried. My physical well being has always been a priority and in this new land I’m not always sure what I’m doing. Ok, most of the time I’m clueless. And once again I’m on my own. My host works, a lot. And I’ve always been more than a bit of a loner, although a friendly one...so wandering the aisles of my local grocery store with Google translate open on my phone is fine by me but some days it feels like between my budget and my nutritional needs I’m getting just about no where. And that’s when I break down and just buy one of those little bento boxes that they mark down 50% at 9 pm and I go home with a bottle of cheap sake and say, “Fuck it - I’m in Japan,” and put on Netflix and chill.
Yesterday, Mom called. She’d been trying to reach me for a day, so I answered. I was in public. I sat down on a bench. Turns out that bench was a bust stop. That’s when the old Japanese man screamed in my face about talking on my fon and his tiny old friends all laughed. I rolled my eyes, kept talking and walked away until I found a suitable wall to lean against in some nondescript corner. It’s absolutely forbidden to talk on your phone or play music on (or near apparently) public transportation. Like the dude just appeared out of nowhere. I was exhausted from a day on my feet in this humidity riddled nation (it’s worse than Seattle) and it was an honest mistake. And it was my Mother, bitch. And a huge #Gaijin moment. Won’t be my last. Oops. Sorry (not sorry?). That and the drunk Japanese woman yelling Gaijin go home at me last weekend in the gayborhood. The thing is they have zero follow through, no guns, no violence. But ay-yo the Olympics are going to be veeery interesting.
Quick disclaimer - most of these people, ok like all except the two mentioned above? Are angels. I love it here, the loneliness is just starting to set in but hey it means I blog more now because this is my escape back to English speaking land and my cultural safe space so there’s that and yes I still love it here and would rather be yelled at by harmless xenophobes than watch my own POC citizens get systematically oppressed by their government and shot down by cops with guns. Yea...this, over that, any day. But especially today.
It’s raining, again, of course. Speaking of cheating I need to get my steak on tonight. TGIF. Once a month. I live for that juicy red piece of protein that I only allow myself just prior to the other juicy redness that I love. They go hand in hand. Science, nutrition, nature - do it or it’ll do you because the only thing more ancient than sex is her flow.
All right...I’ll write...I think that is enough. You got your fix and I got my emotional/brain dump and can return to more potent matters at hand:
Guess who has a photo shoot and feature profile in her new country coming up in two weeks? Yip Yip iii Me.
Feeling really emotional today - and by emotional I moved. Moved by this entire experience that is setting in, I’m really here, this is not a dream. Also hormones. Goddess bless the tiny particles of my humanity that make me fully woman. And take me on a trip every month. But that’s better than the alternative right now which would be pregnancy. Had a minor mishap a few weeks ago with a friend who shall remain nameless. That’s why I discovered exactly how backwards this country can be when it comes to its treatment of women, specifically their healthcare. There are exactly 4 types of birth control available in this country - two types of pills and two IUDs. THAT’S. IT. Well and abortion of course. They don't have our moral hang ups about that one but even then it gets the same obscure treatment that all the other options do. If your doctor thinks what you should really be doing is staying home and having babies, they can deny you. And if you bring more than one pack of birth control pills with you when entering the country? Better have that customs paperwork ready.
Oh and the condoms are tiny. Tiiinyyy. A lesson I learned the hard way. Wonder how many packs of condoms I can bring in without having to declare my slutty intentions?
You know what else is not helping? This damn music! All they play in this country are American tunes I associate with my recent transition because it’s all the current-ish stuff and so I’m sitting here attempting not to miss my babies back home too much when what I should be doing is getting my shit together.
And oh that’s another thing...think I can ‘clean up’ in this country as a Pro Femdom like everyone thought and felt the need to tell me before I left? Well let me just say good thing THAT was not my plan. I picked the perfect country for a professional sabbatical because it’s nearly impossible for international pros to work in this country. And why is that you ask? Because domination services of the pay for play type are JUST legal enough that if you don’t have the proper status (permanent resident or Japanese national) you cannot do that kind of work. That's what I learned when I headed out on Saturday to check out the local kinky commercial enterprises.
Also, no dungeons in this country. Like none. Unless it's a porn production venue and then it can only be porn, no sessions. All the “Dungeons” with Mistresses for hire here are actually dispatch services. The love hotel phenom is real in this country and that is were the girls do all their work. But hey I’m not gonna knock it because I fucking love a hotel session. I mean granted I do have a hotel fetish, but it was more than that. One of my favorite memoreis is when I walked into a client’s hotel room with nothing but a medium size black purse. When I dropped it on the bed he looked at me incredulously standing there in my little black dress and stilettos and asked, “What are you going to do with that?” the anticipatory dissatisfaction spreading across his face. I grinned my evil grin at him and through narrowed eyes said, “Give me an hour and I’ll show you.” Trust within 60 minutes I had blown this man’s damn mind and he was eating his words. So yes, hotel sessions can be incredibly awarding, precisely because they push the creativity and imagination of the professional.
But I digress, so yes - even if I could find a place to advertise and slipped passed the international prohibitions there would not be a dungeon available and as I stated that wouldn’t necessarily hamper my style but from what I’ve seen many would be subs outside of Japan get all up in their feelings once they realize you’re not sinking all your earnings into a massively expensive space and spending your days sitting around the cross in full dress just waiting for their call. Sorry guys, I started this ish right when the world went online and so unfortunately for both of us that has meant that for the entirety of my career the pain in the ass effort of maintaining a studio was only worth it if you did porn (or illegal activities for which you could charge more). But needless to say - Japan and I get it and I wish I could play here because I would love to meet some more people but alas that will have to wait until I find another access point...maybe I could apply for an artist visa? Lmao
But I do miss it. Mistress cannot tell a lie. There’s one little Japanese boy down the way with a car and plenty of time to burn apparently. He has politely and consistently hit me up since I arrived (and updated my location on Fetlife) so I’m going to see him for lunch this week and see what I think. The point to this sabbatical is I have zero time for thirsty bitches. A beautiful woman puts “Dominant” on her profile and suddenly the whole world treats her like a water fountain and they just keep coming. That is a line that never ends. So yeah...sigh. But at the same time I could use a pair of boots on the ground to help me with a few local projects, answer my questions, and accompany me to mixed events.
Speaking of, I just want to give a shout out to the Kanto Area Kink Group that hosted the May picnic I attended yesterday. You all were absolutely worth the 3 hour trek by train to get there, a feat I didn’t think possible just moments before arriving, lol. If yesterday’s event is any indicator Mistress is going to be very, VERY pleased with the caliber of fellow native English speaking players in my new home. Turns out if you cross the world, you find other folks like yourself who are educated, brave, open, curious, emotionally intelligent and capable and enthusiatic enough to take on the challenge of living and succeeding in a foreign land. It was also my first picnic in this country, a huge cultural tradition and a memory I will always cherish for both reasons. And the weather was perfect. Thank you KAK for helping this perverted gaijin along and for finally answering my question “Why are there no damn paper towels in the bathrooms?!!!”. Answer - the japanese hand towel tradition. These people bring their own small towels every where they go for just this type of situation. Think of the waste that saves! OMG And also, suddenly, the little red hankie in my bag that I carry with me everywhere? His day got a little brighter. In America my friends used to make fun of me for always carrying a hanky. I told them it was part of my culture (country girl) and to stop making fun of it. Well, seems I found another culture that shares and appreciates my little custom. Go us.
Ok, now that I’ve written all this mental clutter from my mind - time to get back to the real work I need to do. Love you guys. Kisses from Tokyo.
Chapter 1
Paragraph 1
The sky was yellow. The wind was strong. The sand storm tore at the face masks of the passengers. They clamored across the tarmac, climbed the staircase and disappeared. Inside she sat down, two stones in her pockets. In the right pocket she carried a smooth grey pebble with the word, “Hope,” carved into the surface. In her left pocket was a white crystal, plucked from the mountains near her home. Around her neck hung a piece of amber surrounded by silver in the shape of a tree, bent by the wind. Wound about one of her hands was a piece of hair, dark kinky hair she once twisted into a loch, many years before. Finally she reached into her purse and pulled out a cartoonish figurine in the shape of a moose, a tiny red scarf wrapped around it’s neck, and placed it on the empty seat next to her. Then the pre-boarding announcements began, first in Chinese, then in English. Next stop Tokyo.
I have no right to invoke her name. She is Zora Neale Hurston and her book changed my life.
It wasn’t the story per se, although that was magnificent, but the structure that struck me. A woman not much older than I am now returned to the front porch, wrapped herself in a shawl like the nets of the sea, and told her story.
My undergraduate degree is in English. I studied a lot of literature. I loved it. My professor described this style of narrative like bookends, a framework that completes a story by giving it the boundaries, the shape it needs. I never forgot that. I knew someday my story would fit into that frame.
So here I am, in Japan, and I’ve finally found my second bookend. I’m about to sit down on the porch and tell you a story. My story, taken with liberties. Taken from real life but produced in a way that is more true to the form than the art. As an english major, I’m a story slut. I tell you this now, that when it comes to this project I will be more concerned with the quality of the story telling than the details. My goal is to convey the truths of my journey, not the details of my life. It also makes me feel safe to cling to story rather than life. And I’m also sick to death of all the tell-all tales out there from fly by night ‘pros’ that take advantage of the misunderstanding of my craft in exchange for a dollar and that encourage the mainstream to continue to stigmatize my craft.
I’m also more than a Dominatrix. And frankly, as I get more in touch with my heart and the reality of my vulnerability (and courage) I find that much more interesting. It will all be there though, don’t worry, because it is all part of my journey and I loved every second I spend in a dungeon. Every second. So I will share, I want to share. I want to share aaalll of me with you. I hope that the revelation of my own complex, multidimensional self and sexuality will help you appreciate more your own amazing universe.
And they say the first page/paragraph of a book determines whether someone will want to read the book.
So here goes, two weeks after the journey completed and I escaped to Japan, this is what I have...it’s not much. But it’s a start.
Something’s got to give…
Bub (my brother): Sis remember when 9/11 happened and you were in DC and Mom and Mike threatened to drive out from Montana and pack you up and move you back home?
Me: Yea…
Bub: Well now it’s about to be World War 3 and you’re headed right back into the middle of it again. What’s up with that?
Me: Well, Bro...war is part of life. And next time it happens it’s going to happen everywhere. So if it’s going to happen, this time when it happens, I want to be in a country with no guns, no opiod epidemic and no race wars.
Bub: …
#Japan
Remember that story line in Friends, where Ross gets someone else pregnant. Rachel is really upset when she finds out because she told Ross they were just on a break. But Ross thinks they were broken up?
Yeah, well in that scenario I’m Rachel and my country and my family are Ross. They think I’ve left them for good. But really we’re just on a break. Yep I ex-pat’ed the fuck outta my life and country and loves. Now as long as the USA doesn’t knock somebody else up while I’m in Japan we should be okay.
Ten years ago was my last sabbatical. In the past ten years since that trip back home to Montana I have taken only one trip that wasn’t to see clients. That was last December when my Mom took me to Mexico. A country with a culture that is warm, heart-felt and full of humor. That trip definitely sparked something in me. Or more accurately it reignited something inside of me - a desire to experience life beyond the American borders.
My reasons for coming to Japan are many, not just one. And those reasons are layered. They run into one another. Was it my traumatic marriage to my slave who is still in treatment for addiction? Sure that was part of it. He’s doing better but I still needed to be somewhere he couldn’t get to me without my consent because it seems every time he’s done that in the past decade he manages to melt down my world in a matter of days and I have to start all over again.
Is it the ignorant and racist attitudes of my dearest loved family members that have come to light since the recent election? Yea, that’s definitely part of it too.
Is it my need for adventure? My desire to travel? My desperate want for a respite from the scene? The pro life? The impact of the drug epidemic on my personal life? The lack of a living wage? The fucking hateful rhetoric of my country at the moment? The free bed in a warm home waiting for me in Tokyo? Yes, yes and yes.
So that’s why I left. But why did I choose to go to Japan? Why not South America, or Europe where as one friend said, “They know how to enjoy life.” Because I’ve spent the past decade plus “enjoying” life. I’ve lived. I've liiived. If I wanted it, I’ve had it. If I want to do it, I’ve done it. My life has not been short on experience and my memory is full of moments that I will cherish forever. But there’s more to life than that…
And that is where my self identity and this Japanese culture intersect:
I value ritual. They have it in spades in this country.
I value manners. Respect is the name of the game in this country.
I love discipline. Yep they have that too.
I value kink. PLENTY of that here.
I value peace. As a survivor of multiple sexual assaults (all prior to becoming a pro and part of my vanilla life not my kink life) I can walk down the street here at 2 am more than a little tipsy and not have to look over my shoulder constantly or clutch my keys in fear or worry about what is hiding behind every shadow. You have no idea how valuable that is to a survivor of sexual assault and domestic abuse. Basically by making the choice to move myself halfway around the world I eliminated the vast majority of my triggers and for that reason I now spend my days in peace. Priceless.
I am healing. I am the adult child of an alcoholic who is finally getting on top of her issues. It's been a long, hard fought, barely begun to be won battle. But I am still standing. And at this point I feel I deserve some GD rewards for my efforts thus far. So I decided to put myself first and to go out and get them. I gave myself a pass. That pass came in the form of a plane ticket. A very expensive plane ticket. To a very different place, very far away from home. So. Be. It.
I am here, in Japan, to heal. I am also here to take some bad ass rope bondage classes and get my kink on on the international level. Torture Garden of London fame is hosting a fetish ball in Tokyo in a few weeks. OMG I cannot wait.
This country I’ve chosen isn’t perfect. No place is, but for now Japan offers me the ritual, discipline, spiritual sanctity, financial security, physical safety and professional opportunities that I can’t find in my own country, especially at this moment in history. Yes, I feel safer here, practically within spitting distance of North Korea and it's nukes, than I did walking down the street at night in my own country. As a solitary soul and an independent woman I spent many nights in fear, because I was alone - as Goddess intended - but I was alone in a country full of dangers for a woman like myself.
I am an introvert. I now gleefully spend my days walking silently through the tiny streets of my Tokyo neighborhood. I use google translate to communicate. I bow a lot. I make eye contact with people, something I never did back home. I smile at strangers. It feels so good.
The food is fresh as fuck. The people are gentle. The fashion is on point. The aesthetic is dynamite. And they love a tall blonde gaijin. There’s even Starbucks so I can still get my fix.
I just had to do it. I couldn’t wait one more moment. The more loved ones I lost to over dose the more I began to realize just how short life really is. And how precious. And how fragile. I’ve spent my entire life in service to other’s needs. It's called being a codependent. It was time to put myself first. I bet that’s a secret you didn’t know about being the best - the best dominants out there are in it for someone else. Almost always.
For me it was beyond being merely a ‘service top.’ I was and still am and always will be in service to my destiny, to the fates. Most days I wouldn’t choose this life. I hate being marginalized, misrepresented, judged and commodified by family, friends, lovers and the media whether it's because I'm kinky, a woman, a blonde, a queer or a sex worker. Most days I just crave a normal existence, even though I know the concept of normal is an illusion, really. But what I did need and could get that Japan gives me is a sense of peace, an advanced aesthetic and a sophisticated society.
America - you’re mean. There - I said it. And that’s coming from a Dominatrix. It’s my job to be mean and I still just can’t with you anymore. Not right now. So I quit. We're on a break. It's a symptom of a larger problem sure, most of which is my responsibility but nonetheless I choose to quit making myself available to any place or person who can’t or won’t appreciate me for me. After all, I’m just a girl. A girl with a whip. A woman who deserves love. A human. Being.
I don’t know when (or if) I’ll be back. My relationship with my new country is very new and like most new relationships I’m probably heady on all kinds of new relationship energy (NRE, go google it if you don’t know what that means). Once the dust settles, I’ll decide what my next move is. One step at a time, right? But one thing is for sure - I’m done with countries, men, communities and clients that may tolerate hate, anger and poor taste. Life is too short for anything less than beauty and love.
May you find what you are looking for. I know I have. Thank you Japan and thank you America. Maybe someday we will meet again.
Good bye for now. Love, Me
This is it! The final lot! Mistress is definitely interested in offers for the whole thing, part 1 and 2. I am not pricing these items because I prefer you to tell me what you can afford. I want these fabulous pieces to go to homes that will value and enjoy them. So dive right in - make an offer! Email dominavontana@gmail.com
Homme Mystere is lingerie designed for the male body. It is flattering, sexy and feminine. One of a kind and wonderful to wear! I adore this brand.
Spareparts Hardwear Sasha - ruching, garters, size medium. The best harness I've ever owned but the slave/husband hates anal so it needs to go to a good home where it will be appreciated. Machine washable, super secure fit/ride - no gapping during your hottest moments, just up close and personal play. Fits most (all but the most huge) dildos. I adore this thing but not using it makes me sad so it's got to go!
Gorgeous satin crystal studded steel boned corset with garters. This thing is the real deal. Size small.
Luxury brand Lelo silk blindfold definitely the most expensive blindfold I've ever bought lol retails for $70 I know redic - but oh so lovely and secure - elastic band at the back keeps it in place then tie the two ends for sexy flair
Satin French style balconnete bra - think sexy nip slip size 34C
You know what this is - haha size medium #schoolgirlskirt
Hand dyed size 34C full figure retro lingerie
Rago size medium one full skirt one half skirt 6 garters each full figure retro lingerie
Full slip retro full figure lingerie 4 garters size small
Scarves for #bondage my absolute fav style of bondage #sensualdomination
Boots!!! thigh high 3 pairs all size 8.5 one plain one with metal laces in the front the other with metal laces in the back so fun to wear!
#leather #bondage #hood this fucker is no joke total #blackout multiple straps #sensorydeprivation
bedazzle yer bewbies both size 36B
This looks sooo good on, always so many compliments 3/4 sleeve size medium
Anjou anal plug medium stainless steel boil ten minutes to sanitize put in the freezer for thermal play fabulous toy high quality brand love this piece but got a new one
Random bondage gear (tape) and some knives and nipple clamps and oh - some zip ties too
Violet wand (you knew that right?) works perfectly, missing one attachement - the other 3 are there (as you can see)
