The Return- A Work in Progress

It has been a year and a half since I mostly stepped away from pro-domination. A major loss in my life prompted the need for immense amounts of space for healing, change, and growth. For a long time, I did not know what life would be like when the dust of chaotic upheaval settled. I think we’ve all been through things that have made us relate to our lives, the things we love, the relationships we have, in these ways and in situations entirely unique. When the rug is pulled out from under us, what else can we do but freefall for a bit?

I have often related to kink, s&m, and power exchange as tools for personal growth. Potentially so, anyway. Having hot fun is a perfectly valid and satisfactory reason for engaging in these things, but I can have hot fun and also learn about myself, build upon trust and connection, or move through and release deeply seated emotions at the same time. These are the parts of kink I am especially passionate about. Through the last year and a half, I have often thought of my ability to get through such upheaval has been in part due to skills developed through years of s&m play. A nod to the power of pain to act as wildfire, clearing out the mesh of underbrush and stimulating growth that cannot occur without heat.

I have seen a few loyal and well-connected clients in this time, and playing with them has been instrumental in reminding me of my passions for working with others and providing a safe space where they can explore and express their own sexualities. It has reminded me of how honored I feel anytime someone trusts me with their body and psyche and how beautiful the shared experience of exploration is. It has reminded me of the delight of expressing my own fantasies and desires, and having another say, “take me there with you.”

Finally, a new space to play in. A backyard shack, all the right levels of creepy and comforting, discreet and safe, well-equipped for endless torture and servitude fantasies. Run by Lady Dane and I, you can expect a high degree of professionalism, perversion, and care. Although we have many fun toys of all sorts to play with, we are always expanding our dungeon and will happily take donations towards new equipment. Have a particular item in mind that you’d love to include in our scene together but that we are not in possession of? How about a gift card to your favorite online retailer so we can ensure its delivery in time for our play? Perhaps a wishlist is in order.

But this return is a work in progress for myself. Over the coming months, look for an overhaul in website design, new photo shoots, and of course, new erotica entries to keep our imaginations churning.

I look forward to torturing you in the backyard shack.


Put Him On The Rack

There he was on the dungeon floor, blindfolded, shaking, hands tied behind his back, still wearing his pajamas from when he was taken from his bed.

“Where am I?”

I quietly circled him kneeling on the floor.

“Who’s there? What is this place?”

I put my hand on his shoulder, he jumped.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

I leaned down and held him harder, squeezing into his shoulders, running my hands through his hair.

I purred in his ear, soft and warm. “I want you to suffer.” He could hear the smile in my words. This terrified him.

“No. NO! What is this place? Who are you? Just let me go, please, please! I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t hurt me!” I smiled even more. My hands continued to wander his body, taking palmfuls of flesh and muscle as I pleased, pushing and pulling at him. He fell to the floor, squirming away from my touch, writhing like a dying earthworm on the hot pavement that doesn’t know it’s only getting further away from cool, dark soil. “No! NO! Please stop, please.”

“No one’s going to hear you, you know. And certainly no one is going to save you. You’re a long way from anything out here, so you might as well save your breath. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” I savored the sight of sweat building on his brow and could see his heart pounding into his neck. I purred and pushed my hands harder into his chest. He was underneath me now, the weight of my hips keeping him from inching away. He bucked and kept trying to curl himself underneath me, crossing his arms over his chest. I could feel his knees hitting my back while he tried to pull himself into fetal position.

“Please, please don’t hurt me. If you let me go, I won’t call the cops or anything. I’ve got money, lots of money, you can have it all! Just please don’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want your money!” I giggled, pulling his arms off his chest so I could dig my hands in further. “I want your suffering!” I groped and pushed some more, shoving my hands under his shirt and pulling at his skin. “I want this body. I want to make you mine.”

“NO, please don’t. Please don’t touch me there!” He pulled away, trying to cover his chest and cross his legs. I shoved my hands between his thighs and could feel his cock bulging through his pants.

“Oh, darling. Your mouth says no, but your cock… it wants this.”

“NO! No, no, it doesn’t, it can’t help it, it doesn’t want anything to do with you, leave it alone!”

“Oh, but it does want this. What a sick and twisted fuck you are. The more terrified you get, the harder your cock gets. This is great for me, really, because before I fuck you, I’m going to do terrible, terrible things to you, and when I’m done, I’m going to take your cock any way I like it.”

“Leave me alone, please, please leave me alone. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.” He was starting to cry now, his eyes wincing as tears welled up, his face thrashing around still unable to see.

“Ohh, but we’re just getting started! We can’t stop now!” The glee in my voice was unmistakable. I was going to hurt him and I was going to love every second of it.

In a sudden burst of fight, he began to buck harder against me, trying to knock me off. He was continuously saying “No” and other words of protest that began to meld together in redundancy. I purred some more and laughed joyfully. “The more you struggle, the more turned on I get, you know. I’ve got a puddle growing that I’ll have to spread all over you.” He continued to fight, and I sighed deep breaths of excitement. I shoved my hands between his legs again. “I think you really like the struggle too. You’re even harder than you were before!”


“Ssshhh,” I cooed into his ear, “Don’t you want to hear about all the fun we’re going to have?” I covered his mouth and held tight onto his chin to stop the movements of his head. “I have this wonderful device waiting just for you. It’s quite simple really,” I ran my hands along the ties at his wrists, “I lock your wrists and ankles into place…” I could hear him stuttering things like, “Why would you do that? What for?” “And then, I turn a large wheel that’s connected by a rope to your ankles, and it slowly stretches you wide open. Then I can do whatever I want to your body, and you can’t stop me.”

“WHAT? You don’t have such a thing, I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t do that to another person.”

“You surely don’t have to take my word for it. Get up.”

“No, no I won’t.”

“Hm. That’s not following directions very well. GET UP.” I pulled him by his hair and he staggered to his feet.

“Please, please, what are you going to do to me?”

Holding one hand onto his hair, I bent him over and walked him across the room. Without his sight, he stumbled and moved like a terrified chicken in the mouth of a fox. I pushed him against the table where the rack was stationed. I took his hands and ran them along its bars until they touched the wheel. I brought his fingers to the ropes and whispered, “These will pull you by your ankles until your limbs are fighting to stay in their sockets. Your body is mine.”


Unleashing the Beast Within

The human beast pet is my strong willed and loyal companion. His spirit is wild- he does not want to be tamed, but his desires for me are magnetic and he knows if he does not please me, he will not win my affection, and there’s nothing that he wants more than my affection. He needs a strong handler who can invite it out to play and hunt, and to train it for my service.

He needs to shut out the sight of his human world for a while to touch the animal within and make him forget his human language. He is stripped of his sight and his human identity with a leather hood, where he only has his smell, taste, touch, and hearing to learn about the state of his world. And it is me he is smelling for, tasting and touching as I invite, and listening for my movements around him and my proximity to his body.

He is collared to mark his subhuman status and his subservience to me. I will not bring out his wildness only to suppress it in favor of obedience. Instead I will use his wildness to create obedience. He will learn that I am the satiation of his urges and desires and it is in his best interests to follow my direction. He will learn that his compliance is rewarded with my soft touch on his face, my lips against his ear, my nails against his skin- feelings of pleasure and care. But I am wild too and I cannot help but bite him where the blood flows to feel his pulse under my teeth.

I love to watch my beast struggle in pain as his wildness is brought to the surface. Bound to a cross, harnessed in rope, or tied to a bench, I love to watch his strong body heave against intense sensation. His balls weighted or squeezed in my hands. His chest collecting lash marks from a whip. His thighs colored in stripes from a cane. I want to hear him growl like the beast that he is. I want to watch him struggle against his bondage, and when he laughs through the pain, I’ll take that as sign that he’s ready for more. I love that laughter, like the howls after a euphoric dance beckoning for the moon. I could take him any way I want to here. And I do.

My beast begins to soften, worn and tired from the dance, sticky with sweat, radiating heat. I free him from his bondage and bring him to the floor where he sits at my feet, his head in my lap. I can feel his breathing against my legs, like a purring tiger drifting into sleep. My fingers run through his hair, lightly pulling at the base of his neck. He takes me in and lets himself go. But soon it is his lips I want on my feet, running up my legs and tasting my crevices. It is his strong hands I want, rubbing my arches, my calves and thighs. My own wildness growls back at him and he is proud to be able to please me.

He is a stunning creature- a playful rambunctious pup at times and a skilled and strong hunter, always. He is eager to service me and in return, I care for him well. I adore my beast pet.


The Power of Negotiation

Often I receive session requests of very simple composition. A handful of listed interests, time and date requested for play, a statement of health or experience level or something of the sorts. Sometimes when a client arrives and I ask some more questions before play, I don’t always get the most thorough or open answers. Working with such basics can be done and I’ve had many a successful session come of it.

However, I absolutely LOVE receiving a detailed session request. I love reading the sentiment behind specific fetishes and desired play, reading about the aspects one finds fulfilling or even simply compelling if they have not had prior experiences. I love knowing how a person ultimately desires to FEEL in play, even if there is expectation that new enjoyable things might even be discovered. Ask a handful of people what they like about one specific kind of play, and you’ll get at least a handful of different responses.

Negotiation, to me, is not simply a pre-play obligation and technicality. It is an opportunity to build connection, to develop insight into my partner and begin to unfold particular aspects of my own psyche towards self-expression. It can help begin to the set the headspace itself, acting as an extension of play, even as foreplay and dirty talk. It can be an expression of enthusiastic consent, if even the enthusiasm for being “forced” into particular acts or made to feel pain you don’t “like” but want. Negotiation does not always have to be sexual, however, as not all desires for scenes are sexual.

There are also many aspects of play that I will not engage in without explicit negotiation that I feel are too often unfortunately expected of pro-dommes. Humiliation and degradation, for instance, and the idea of a dominant woman as a constant cold hearted “bitch” ready to taunt, force, and castrate upon eye contact. Those spaces can be fun for me in play, but unless negotiated, my dominance does not express itself through being mean, pushy, and condescending, and as someone who strives to practice healthy models of consent I feel it would be irresponsible and inappropriate of me to assert any of that without explicit negotiation of the fantasy.

I once had a client after a session express his disappointment that our play had been lacking in that attitude, and I pointed out that in his emails and our pre-play talk, he had not communicated a desire for that space at all. He had given me a few bulletpoints, and was fairly unresponsive to pre-play questions I had for him, simply complaining about other dommes that had been unfilling for him. The session went on to have little buzz and I couldn’t seem to change the fizzle and quickly lost steam myself. Negotiation does not always make for a highly connected experience, of course, sometimes mutual chemistry is just lacking, timing or headspace just isn’t right, but it is mostly rare that I have had those disconnected experiences. It sounded like he hadn’t communicated something that was integral to his experience and was unrealistically expecting me to just know. I have since learned to ask better questions, especially when I receive a session request with a simple list of interests. There is not always time to exchange several emails before a session, but there is always opportunity to talk before play begins, and I aim to do my best with either and both options and read my partner intensely as we play. But again, chemistry makes a difference. Unrealistic expectations of pro-dommes and dominant women could be a separate post all on its own.

I have had several incredible sessions this past week that were molded in part through good communication. One client had written a beautiful email where he described some of the mental aspects he got out of particular forms of play which I had read just hours before our session. His writing was polite, flirtatious, and so wonderfully expressive, I was unsurprised to meet a man so warm and friendly upon his arrival to the dungeon. Our pre-play conversation was brief but I felt he had communicated so thoroughly that I was confident about where I could take our play. There was so much great chemistry and I felt the highlights were in that energy and inspired eroticism. Another client was someone I had played with before and exchanged many emails with after our first session together, which I wrote about in Busted Balls. After that scene, he had written extensively about the things he loved and couldn’t get out of his mind, all of which I had felt the same deep thrills for, and there was so much heated anticipation from both of us in playing again. To say our play was fucking hot would be an understatement, but I loved especially having such open lines of communication to build the scene as we wanted and even felt like there wasn’t enough time to get to everything I had intended.

I’ll have to do a write-up on both of those sessions sometime in the future. For now, onto more kinky ponderings, striving to have and keep learning about thorough negotiations, and play!

Human Punching Bag

Recently, I was delighted to participate in a session with a wonderful bottom eager to explore long-time fantasies. “A” was an open book when it came to sharing his interests in his inquiry and was responsive to all of my questions concerning particular head spaces and sensations. He communicated feeling fueled by the objectification of being someone’s toy or play thing, someone’s body to do as they please with. He spelled out some main interests- body-punching and kicking, bondage, and possibly some needles, as well as his all time favorite fetish for spanking.

Upon his arrival, A and I discussed the scene some more, calming some of his nerves and beginning to set some headspace as he named some other interests to be included into play. We took a tour of the space and A got to see the variety of tools and play stations at our disposal, being reminded of some other interests in the process and also being reminded of his fear towards needles. Some kinds of fear draw a lot of us into aspects of our play and I’m always impressed by those who invite a face-off and desire to sit in that space with it.

I put “A” in a hood and began to tie a chest harness on him. At first, I had his hands behind his back so I could bend him over a bench for a spanking. Venturing towards some physically grueling play, I wanted to make his body to warm and his endorphins high. I watched him melt into the bench with every smack and when I lifted him up by the harness, he was noodley and soft in my grip. I didn’t have to see his face to sense the growing euphoria.

I released his hands from the harness and wrapped a pair of cuffs around his wrists. I attached the cuffs through a rope into a hard point overhead that we use for suspensions. This gave him something to grip as the blows from my fists were on their way. As I set up the ties, I caught him shuffling his hips to the beat of the music and I giggled to myself, the sight of a bound, hooded boy doing a dance, unaware he was being watched and plotted against.

Then I started to push him around, shoving him away and then pulling his harness to bring him in towards me before pushing him away again. I giggled watching him to try predict where I was coming from, moving his head around trying to listen in for my movements or catch a glimpse of me through the nose holes of the hood. Push, pull, PUNCH, push. Slowly I started increasing the punches. I’d punch into his thigh and when he went to pull that leg into himself from the pain, I’d catch him on the other side and hit his other thigh. I’d pull him in, let him breath, and then start a rhythmic pattern on his back in the beds of his shoulder blades, punching harder and harder with each hit. Then I’d shove again, pull, kick into the leg, destroy the rhythm.

Soon, I took his hands out of the tie and tied into his chest harness instead. I kept his wrists tied in front of him so that he could reach for the rope for extra support but was still unable to easily block me. Now I could shove him off his feet hard and make him fall back into the rope . Now he was my punching bag.

Bare knuckle hits slapping into skin, his outer hips hardening from deep muscles swelling, his breath becoming heavy and labored. He had been beaten into exhaustion. I slowly brought him out, undoing the ties and his hood, leaving some time in our play to touch upon some fears he was interested in. Taking a seat in the clinic, I picked out a handful of needles.

Placing a couple in his thighs, he was calm and steady. I gently showed him how we can use needles as a target for punching and slapping and twisting around, and he enjoyed the throbbing that came with that. And then one of the needles began to bleed a bit. As he’s talking aloud about this observation, the color drains from his face and he says, “I’m gonna lose it.” I ease him back into the clinic chair, pushing the chair back to lay him down, calmly assuring him he’s okay and we have everything he needs. I tell him he’s having a super normal response to stirring up fears, especially after putting his body through the trauma of my fists. He’s calmed and reassured by this, color coming back into his cheeks, his pupils relaxing.

When he’s ready, I take the needles out. He stands up, takes a few steps, his face starts to go pale and his eyes haze out and he announces, “I’m gonna lose it again!” I grab a hold of him, ease him down to the floor and soothingly talk him through the waves of anxiety. A steady hand to his back, I remind him that his body’s just gone through a physiological roller coaster and his responses are all completely normal. I help him steady his breathing and the blood returns to his face. I grab some snacks from the kitchen and we decompress together in a heap on the floor, talking about our play, about his interest in the local kink scene, about life and how we got to where we both were in that moment.

I made a beautiful connection that day and had an amazing time bringing someone to a place they didn’t know they could make it to. I helped instill confidence into a kinkster eager to explore himself and connect with others. I got to play in ways that I absolutely love and leave deliciously satisfying marks of brutality.

These are some of the reasons why I do this work.

He tells me he spent several days opting to use his legs less. Taking the elevator instead of the stairs at work, hiding his stiffness and discomfort from colleagues. And playtime carries on!

On Goddess Play

You light candles, burn a favorite incense, and invite me to the throne. You want to appease my temperament- a happy Goddess will consider your pleasure and bring you delight. A disappointed Goddess will show you her wrath. You bring me gifts to lay at my feet- wildflowers, invigorating oils to massage my legs with, bowls of berries and ripe peaches, and you offer to serve me. But I don’t think you’re strong enough, you are certainly not pure enough, and I won’t be tainted by being touched with your filth. I tell you that you do not deserve to look me in the eye and you will not unless I say. Looking down at my feet, you beg me to cleanse you. I tell you you’re too weak to take it and I believe you will crumble. I am testing your commitment to serve me, daring you to show me your will. You assure me you will do whatever it takes to push out all of your impurities.

A worthy servant will only allow his cock to harden when I’ve permitted it. If it gets hard before I have allowed, there will be punishment. You will have to resist the excitement that comes from my touch- my fingertips along your nipples, the soft of your ribs, your hairline, my push and pull against your body. You will have to resist my voice in your ear, my breath along your neck, tempting you with filthy words and ideas. I will tell you to look at my body, to worship it with your eyes. I will shame you for being so filthy minded. And if you cannot keep your cock soft, I might have to tightly bind it to your body so that when it swells, it aches against the ropes. If it remains hard, perhaps I might have to take a cane to it. Of course, if these are hard limits, there can be other punishments for engaging in impurities against my wishes.

I lay out the cleansing tools before you and require that you prostrate yourself to them. You will do this before the cleansing as well as after. Floggers, whips, canes, whatever we might choose as appropriate for this cleansing. Perhaps you will be tightly bound,  blindfolded and gagged. Perhaps you will be forced to watch your pain in a mirror.

The cleansing feels like an eternity, but you surrender yourself to it and allow me to bring you into your depths. There, pain hums like the ringing in your ears during an empty silence. When you are there, you know you have been purified. I can sense it within you, the light that suddenly beams when you’ve been broken open.

You are back at my feet and eager to continue the ritual of worship. Our shared interests shape these steps. Perhaps you are to drink my piss out of a bowl to unite yourself with my essence and take in my purity. Perhaps you are to worship at my ass or feet, or to rub my strong legs with the oils you brought me. Maybe then I allow you to serve me that bowl of fruit, and a happy Goddess could even share. Perhaps you curl up at my feet and bathe in the light that my graces have brought out of you. And if you’ve proven your purity, maybe I demand your cock to harden and make you beg to release yourself… Maybe.

There are so many angles that Goddess Play can be incredible to me. It can invite us to express archetypes that we relate to and touch normally hidden aspects of ourselves. I wrote here about a fantasy that involves a submissive proving their strength and worthiness to serve, but I also have fantasies around taming wild beasts, bringing out the creature desires of a submissive and training their obedience and civility. Goddess Play can also tap into the spirituality that many enjoy when engaging in BDSM, or simply the ability for things like ritual, pain, sensory deprivation, bondage, or mental surrender to take one to a higher place. As mentioned, it can access aspects of behavioral training and discipline, incorporating humiliation or forced acts if those are desired. And it can also be so fetish driven through the worship of the feminine, of particular body parts or articles of clothing or bodily fluids such as piss or blood. Really, there’s potential for SO MANY things to be included into a Goddess Play scene. I have endless ideas and inspirations as a Goddess, but I’d love to hear the fantasies of servants and worshippers. 😉


Busted Balls

Last month, I had a delightful session with a beautiful boy. While we were negotiating the scene and he discussed his desires for ball torture, I loved that he was able to describe the exact sensations he knew that created a positive experience for him. Deep, constant, slowly building pain to the testicles, occasional hard and intense hits, and things such as electricity via the TENS unit. I love negotiation as foreplay- the eye contact was immediately sexual, nervous and anticipatory while we talked about turns ons, enjoyable headspaces, and boundaries. The connection was made.

He also mentioned an interest in trying some of the different equipment we have at the dungeon, like the stock stand that locks a body with balls in place at the neck and genitals. I was excited to learn that this person had gifted us several years back one of our favorite tools at the dungeon, the ball slapper- a long and slim paddle with a lightly padded end perfect for delivering thud to a sensitive sack, or for practicing a ping pong balancing act!

The play was simply hot and electric! Clamping him and his balls in place in our stock stand, I varied use of my squeezing, slapping hand, my fist, the ball slapper, and even experimented with a set of boxing gloves and a set of weighted leather gloves. Meanwhile, our eyes remained locked on one another and I slyly mocked his perversions with a grin on my face. I love to watch a cock harden in response to ball pain. I love to watch the conflict on a person’s face between absolute torture and absolute bliss. I love to straddle that line, gently pushing and retreating, pushing harder and retreating again until my bottom is soaring on endorphines and melting into a puddle at my feet.

The scene had this air of both experimentation and highly sexualized deep headspaced surrender, and I enjoyed immensely that kind of playful space. I ran my hand through his chest hair, pulled tightly at their coils while I ended our scene through a series of deep, hard punches to send him out the door throbbing.

Our aftercare space included talking about some self-care steps he could take if he got hit with an endorphin crash over the next day or two: the epsom salt bath routine, getting good sleep, and allowing some personal space for some possible moodiness and a feeling of having been hit by a truck. We also connected a bit on a mutual love for the outdoors and these Colorado mountains. I love those scenes that conclude with a sense of friendship, like I just played with someone I’ve known for some time and I can’t wait to see them again. It is such a rewarding way to play as a professional and a feeling I strive for.

Later on I received this wonderful letter:

“Miss Tulsi,

“Thank you so much for the amazing session! That was by far the best session that I have ever had, and it was quite possibly the most intensely erotic and sexually charged experience of my entire life. The way you stared into my eyes with that evil grin while you increased the pressure on my balls was totally hypnotic, sexy, and downright hot! The way you read me was perfect. You kept me right at the edge for so long. I was close to saying yellow many times, but you would always instinctively back off just a little.

“You were right about the endorphin crash. About 45 minutes into my drive I realized just how sore I really am. But that was no problem because just thinking about the session put me right back up there. I literally had a hard on the entire way back to Grand Junction!”

And from another note in an email exchange…
“That hard on wasn’t torture. You’re right, I’m a filthy pervert- I was stroking myself the whole time and I had to pull over twice to relieve myself! Torture was the day after, trying to ski moguls with large swollen and sore balls!”

Super fucking RAWR.

Looking forward to more adventures, always.