Happy holidays.

I will be unavailable due to the holiday season Sunday, Dec. 21st, until Saturday, Dec. 27th. In the mean time, please visit my newly launched website for more about me and pictures.

Launched.

MadamValentine.com

I'm dreaming of a kinky Christmas.

I love the holiday season. Once Thanksgiving is approaching, I know a great deal of pleasure is in store for me for at least a month. I have many opportunities to enjoy a good meal with good friends, topped off with an excellent bottle of wine. I've traditionally favored Australian reds, but I've recently discovered that South American reds are quite good. A few months ago, I was introduced to New Zealand whites, and I have never looked at white wine again the same.

There are few pleasures higher to me than food and wine. The textures and smells, paired with the sensual roll of wine across my tongue. Perhaps you could savor the afterglow of my enjoyment. Only the finest bottle of wine, naturally, which I glide across my tongue for a minute or two, before I part my lips and let it slip off my tongue into your mouth.

If a more traditional holiday fare is what piques your interest, you might bring me a present. It must be perfectly wrapped. I do not accept sloppy work, as I am an orderly person. You would watch me open it from your place on the floor at my feet. What would you bring me? Perhaps a new pair of boots, tall with laces. You would do up the laces exactly, then polish their shiny black material with your tongue and hands, sucking on the the stilleto heel. If I am not pleased with your gift, you know to expect consequences.

I have in my mind a holiday scene. The snow falling outside in fat, lazy flakes, while inside, the space is warm. I put on a holiday CD. None of that contemporary nonsense. I want to hear the classics: Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald. What better use for white Christmas lights but to tie your hands and feet. You must decorate my tree with with your teeth, carefully lifting ornaments onto the branches. If you are naughty, I will spank you with a candy cane. If you are nice, I will dip my toes in egg nog for you to lick off.

Oh, I may have gotten a bit carried away. I just never know where my imagination will go.

Some thoughts.

You, and me, and another dominant woman. She mocks you while I run my fingernails across your hot, just-spanked bottom. Or you and me with a woman who switches. While I watch with amusement and give her orders, she ties you down for your punishment. Once she has you tied and ready for more strict punishments, then what? My imagination fills in the blanks.

Perhaps you must serve us both. With two beautiful dominant women, you must be twice as obedient and precise. Massaging our feet, cleaning our heels with your tongue, eating fresh, oozing fruit from between our toes.

Maybe another woman is not what you truly fantasize about. Maybe you daydream about a dominant man joining us, waiting on my orders for you. Or a submissive man against whom you will have to compete for my approval in your absolute submission.

I ponder these things and feel quick with excitement.

A confession.

The first time I pissed on a man, it was glorious.

I had made him undress completely and wait for me for some time alone in the darkened room as I changed into a corset and stockings, put on my heels. I touched up my make-up while I raised my voice to him, You had better be sitting still waiting for me.

While I was satisfied that he had waited long enough, I returned to the room. I could tell he was embarrassed by his request of me. Valentine, I want you to piss on me . . . Please? And thus, we faced one another in the darkened room. His hands shook slightly, though he tried to hide them between his knees, and he would not meet my eyes directly.

I bent at the waist, took his face in my hands, and forced him to look directly into my blue eyes. "Why are you so shy?" I asked.

He said nothing, so I continued.

"Is it because you've asked me, who you hardly know, to piss on you? That's got to be it. Now, get up, go to the bathroom."

He rose and lumbered sheepishly in front of me as I followed him to the bathroom. We were both aware of only the sound of the click-click-click of my heels on his hardwood floor. Once in the bathroom, he flailed about before settling like a flustered bird on his heels in the bathtub.

"Not like that!" I said. "Don't you know anything? Lie down."

He complied. I grasped the rail along the tiled wall and placed first one heeled foot, then the other, into the bathtub. I took him by the hair on the back of his head and positioned myself over him, his face between my soft thighs.

"Tell me again, what do you want?"

"I want you to piss on me," he said in a hush.

"Good boy. Open your mouth."

I guided his mouth into place by the hair of his head and slowly relaxed my muscles. At first nothing happened, then came a great gush of piss from me, filling his mouth. He swallowed, consuming me. The golden liquid spilled down his chin, down his naked torso, until it ran down the drain. I pissed a beautiful arch of piss onto him, and when I had finished, I got out of the bathtub.

I looked at him again, covered in my shower. He licked his lips.

*A fantasy based on actual events.

Alice

I am tutoring the lovely Alice Hatchet, a dominant with a mischievous spirit to match mine. While she is learning the in and outs of this profession, though she is not new to this kind of play or BDSM, she is available to join us in session.

Photos.

I have been asked and have received comments about why I do not show my face in my pictures. This is not because I am not attractive, I assure you, but for other reasons. All professional dominants have their own styles, but mine is built more on this sense of mystery. I do not wish to be easily identifiable by my photos on the internet. I also prefer that my appearance and expressions be reserved for deserving submissives. And finally, if I were easily viewable online, how could I take you out in public and enjoy a nice dinner? All the while you and I knowing some secret, like you are wearing a thong and stockings, or are sipping wine mixed with my effusion?

Halloween.

Fall is arriving in Chicago. I adore fall, the slightly chill air, the changing trees. One of my favorite activities is walking around the city in either the fall, wrapped up in sweaters, or on a winter night with snow falling.

What I love most about fall is Halloween. What other time of year can you dress up as anything you want to be? As much as I am in support of women dressing brazenly, I think the creativity has gone for most. I believe that a stocking-clad leg is always sexier than a bare leg. This is true for Halloween costumes. A well-thought Halloween costume can be far sexier than much of what I've seen.

Sounds

As I was in session the other day, in heels, I took special notice of the exquisite sound of my high heels on the hardwood floor. I contemplate these days a submissive who would be utterly bound and blind-folded, only able to hear and feel, and I think about the kinds of sounds that I absolutely adore.

Of course, the sound of my heels. There is nothing more indicative of that mix of feminine power and pain. What I could do with my heels! That is what this sound reminds me of. I love the sound of the crop on skin. The perfect, well-placed crack. I love the sound of my hand on a bare ass.

I especially love the sound of whimpering. I am not so much a sadist. I do not so much enjoy the kind of whimpering that sounds like please-no-more-mistress whimpering. I love the sound of whimpering that comes from a place of surrender and pleasure, that comes from a place of should I stop, it would be the most cruel thing I could do.

Escape.

I am escaping the city for the weekend. Off to see old friends, and an old submissive playmate. I am excited to see this one again, to see how far he has progressed in his obedience to me. I want to put on my highest heels and walk on him.

In the meantime, I like this photograph of me.

Masculinity and Desire

Lately, I have found myself attracted to certain movies and television shows with incredibly heroic, masculine characters. I have never been the kind of woman wooed by brawn. I find intelligence to be a much more powerful measure of a person. When I was much younger, other girls I knew fantasized about these kind of men looking after them, bringing them presents and taking them on fantastic trips. I would look at their walls in their bedrooms covered in posters of these kinds of men.

I am not that kind of woman. If I want something, I can get it for myself. If I want to go someplace far away or go on an adventure, I take myself there.

I explain this certain turn of events to a shift in my dominant obsessions. Before, I had only men to play with, boys really. I fantasized about beautiful women at my control, filling their eyes with want and desire. Now, I fantasize about having these kind of men under my feet. Quite literally. I want to walk on their muscled backs. I want to piss in their mouths. I want to cane them. I want to dress them in my panties and make them lick my high heels.

First Taste

I am hard at work on my new website. I'm a bit of a creative control freak (reflecting my larger tendency toward control), so I am doing the work myself. Hence, the slow-going, as I am very busy. To reward your patience, a taste of the luxurious photo set:

Marks & Bruising

I am always careful when I play not to mark my submissive. I respect that while I may be free to go as I please, my sluts have others to whom explaining a bruise or cut would be difficult if not extremely jeopardizing.

Yet there's something about a mark that I find exhilarating. Where others shy from the idea of tattoos because of the chance you might change your mind, regret it, I love that idea. It's a permanent reminder of who you were at that moment in time.

I have no desire to permanently scar my sluts. But the red trails down their backs from my fingernails, for that, there is no substitution. I cannot explain why I am this way. Perhaps I have come to believe that our skin is our calling card to the world. What we experience literally lives on us. For this reason, I will be proud of my first wrinkle when it happens.

When I first discovered this world of power play and pain, I was a switch. The first time I played hard enough with my lover at that time for my tastes, I was left with a deep purple bruise on my ass in the shape of the belt that was used on me. I admired it in the mirror every chance I got and part of me mourned when it faded.

Frustration

My ad has been up on Eros for less than one week and I am using this blog until my website is built and running. The amount of email I have been inundated with this week reaffirms my desire to never provide my phone number to anyone I have not met face to face.

It seems that there are those who assume I sit in front of my computer all day, happily writing masturbation fantasies for them by email. Perhaps you should consider this website, if you are one of those.

I am an incredibly busy woman. If you have not read my instructions on how to contact me, you are wasting my time. Perhaps your boss doesn't care that you waste her valuable time trolling websites and emailing dominants before you rub one out in the office bathroom. I do.

That said, I have exchanged emails with a few delightful sluts and I can hardly wait to see how deeply submissive and obedient they will become under my voice and hand. That also said, I horribly bruised the palm of my hand putting together a bookshelf from Ikea last night. But don't worry (or feel relieved), my other hand is in perfect spanking order.

Who is Valentine?

You have always yearned to give up control, to be guided and sculpted by a beautiful, poised woman. You crave submissive, perhaps punishment and pain. You yearn to be transformed into a person who pleases the whims of a refined dominant.

You have found the dominant to whom you must submit. Read this information very carefully if you wish the pleasure of serving me. While I enjoy discussing my interests, I so hate to repeat myself and often will not.

I am a disciplined, college-educated young woman who believes that sexuality is inherent to the human condition. As such, I believe sexuality demands to be explored and enjoyed. When I discovered the pain and pleasure of bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism three years ago, I knew had found an arena in which to put my carnal and intellectual interest in sexuality and my creative mind to work.

My long locks are naturally blond, and years of dance training have sculpted my lithe yet voluptuous physique. I am very tall, but that does not damper my love of heels. I have classically beautiful features. Though I care about the well-being of my submissives, in sessions, I am playful and curious. I am the proverbial cat with a mouse. Though I exude femininity in my appearance and actions, I am also strict and assertive. I am sweetly sadistic. Though I may not always raise my voice or employ harsh language, my sweet demeanor can be doubly cruel.

I enjoy performing discipline and punishment, watersports, and feminization and genderplay. I have an affinity for smoking and foot/shoe fetishes. CBT and ballbusting is one of my absolute pleasures. Needle play and electrical play are also interests of mine. If a double (or more?) session is what you desire, I can invite a talented dominant or submissive woman or man to join our play. When contacting me, please use an appropriate, respectful tone. Any language that is demeaning, misogynistic, arrogant, or sarcastic will not be tolerated. I do not perform sex, brown showers, Roman showers, or ageplay, although I have skilled dominants who I may invite if you are interested in incorporating the latter three into our session.

Prior to an initial session, I suggest that we meet. I have flexibility of schedule, but I never make appointments on Sundays. Generally, I am available Monday and Wednesday, weekday evenings, and on Saturdays. I answer emails within twenty-four hours, and require a minimum of twenty-four hours advanced notice. I have a strict confirmation policy. I make initial appointments by email only (MadamValentine@gmail.com), after which, established clients will receive my personal phone number. All lessons begin at $250 per hour.

A fantasy.

You enter and I am polite, perhaps smiling, sweet like your high school secret crush. I ask about your day. You answer. I tell you curtly to shut up now and kneel. You kneel, obediently, and kiss the toe of my black stiletto. This pleases me, thus I allow you to take the heel in your mouth and suck on it briefly. I demand that you tell me what it is you want most from me, and you reply, meekly, "For you to make me the sissy bitch I am, Madam Valentine."

On my command, you take off all of your clothes and fold them neatly for me. If I do not think you have shown great enough care, I throw your clothes on the floor and you try again until the folds are perfect. While I sit with my crop resting on my thigh, you parade naked for me as I laugh at what a sissy you are.

After I am thoroughly amused by your humiliating display, I point to the pile of clothes you will wear for me. First, the stockings. Though they itch, I make you put the thigh-high black stockings on your hairy legs. When you hesitate or puncture the material with your clumsiness, I punish you with my crop across your bare ass. Next, you put on the lacy black thong. Show me your pathetic ass in that, I order, and when you do not twirl quickly enough, my crop finds your calves. The blow stings, but you know it is only a reminder of how pathetic you are.

You put on the bra, and as you fumble to clasp it in the back, I bark, "You must really be a impotent sissy if you can't do that!"

Once you get the bra on, you put on the frilly dress and slide your clumsy feet into the heels. I point you to the mirror and demand you put on pearls and lipstick. "Just like you put on Mommy's lipstick as a sissy little boy!" I shout. Whack goes the crop when you smudge your makeup.

Now that I am satisfied that you have dressed like the sissy bitch you are, I put a song on and command you to dance. You are clumsy in your borrowed heels, and when you trip, I punish your ass with the crop again. I point out your reflection in the mirror as you dance about clumsily and order, "Say, 'Thank you, Valentine, for showing me what as sissy little bitch I am!'" You repeat what I've told you, grateful that I have made you into my sissy bitch.


As you catch your breath, I begin to stroke the length of my silicone cock. On your knees, I say, suck me like a good bitch. You get onto your knees and begin to suck my silicone cock the best you can. Faster, I demand, don't you know how to suck cock? You take as much of my silicone cock in my mouth as you can before you gag on it, and I laugh. Only an unworthy bitch would choke on my cock!

"Get up and bend over this bench," I order. "Now!"

You scramble to your feet and comply, bending over the bench I have waiting for you, your sad ass poking up in the air. You feel exposed, vulnerable. You know what is coming next and as much as you are humiliated, you crave the feel of my silicone cock deep inside you, that feeling of submission before me.

"Pull up your dress and move your thong aside, bitch," I command, hitting your ass again with my crop.

You comply. I grab your ass firmly between my hands, plant one of my heels beside your face to remind you who I am, and begin teasing your embarrassingly tight ass with my silicone cock. At first, the tip of my silicone cock hurts you, but as you adjust to me, the intrusion becomes more pleasant.

"A good bitch could take me right away," I chide.

Once your ass is warmed up, I begin to plunge my silicone cock into you over and over. You are vulnerable, exposed, humiliated in my presence. I make you suck the heel of my stiletto again like a cock and laugh. I continue to plunge into your ass, over and over, and mock you. What a stupid sissy bitch you are for liking this!

After I am satisfied that you have come closer to actualizing your true place as my sissy bitch, I show you to the shower.

"You have pleased me today," I say with a smile. "You may see me again."