On Wednesday the 29th I'll be attending the Chicago Sexpo! It should be a fun evening of performances, mingling, and networking for adult industry people. At first I thought it would be primarily vanilla porn industry people, but there will be performances by the Pain Kurst Girls and Miss Maya Sinstress will have a booth. We'll see what happens...I'm going to wear a latex gown from Vex.

Hopefully I'll see some of you there! Here's the flier and more information so you can get your tickets.

It's always wonderful to introduce a new activity to someone who's open to it. This report is from a new slave named stoi. (pronounced "sto eee"). I've copied and pasted his email-without his personal information of course-and put it in italics below.


Anyone who's life is that of a submissive, knows that their relationship with their Dom, is based upon trust and honesty. More so than those in a "normal" relationship. So having this relationship end, and seeking out a new Dom, can be very tedious, and intense. As was the case for me.

After many hours searching Fem Dom directories, and reading countless profiles, reviews, and blogs; I made the decision to contact Mistress Natalya Sadici. Who I now refer to as the sorceress.

Much time was spent corresponding back and forth via email. We shared many thoughts, feelings, and ideas. It was after this that a lunch meeting was set up.

This was not your typical lunch. Along with sharing some of her personal insights, she made it clear that she was a sadist, and enjoyed being one. It ended up being two people sharing thoughts, feelings, and past experiences. Along with many kink related topics. Our last topic for discussion was about our 1st session together. Any questions or concerns were answered, limits and boundaries were established.

It was her sincerity, and openness that stood out most. I left our meeting feeling that she had a good grasp as to me the person, as well as me the sub. The end result of our 1st session was the necessary proof.

The nervousness I was feeling, while knocking on the door of her dungeon, was soon replaced with excitement. Because standing in front of me was this women impeccably dressed in black latex, with a smile on her face.

After a brief tour of the dungeon, and some final thoughts, I was instructed to go into the washroom, and prepare myself. After disrobing, and a few deep breaths, I signaled my readiness. She summoned me in, and commanded me to knee before her. Without any hesitation I was on my knees.

While I was on my knees, she was walking around me, giving me a thorough examination. In a nonsense voice, she told me that today she was in a particularly sadistic mood, and that I was to be her canvass. She followed this statement with the 1st of what I will call her evil snicker. I was going to hear that snicker often during the course of our session. Even now I am able to hear that snicker ring in my head.

Finishing her inspection, she produced a rubber gas mask, with a breathing tube attached to it. While she was fitting it on my head, she shared how much enjoyment she gets out of breath play. Then in a very deliberate way she put her hand over the end of the hose,cutting off any air. It wasn't till I nodded my head completely out of air, that she allowed me air. This was repeated frequently, with increased duration, during the 1st part of the session.

After commanding me to stand, I was led to a steel chair,my legs, arms, and hands were bound. Each and every wrap of the rope was perfectly placed. After finishing tieing me, she took a step back to admire her work. It was then that I took my 1st real look into her eyes. I saw the sadist standing before me.

Reaching into her bag of goodies, she produced a set of nipple clamps. My nipples were clamped, and then the clamps were tied to the chair. Any movement would intensify the pull on my nipples. Letting out with her evil snicker, she proceeded to whip every exposed part of my body, with special attention given to my genitals. At some point she decided that my genitals should be tied, much the same as my nipples; making any movement somewhat painful. Then the sadist began her work, whipping and breath play, back and forth in a unrelenting rhythm, which I thought would have no end. As expected it did not.

She stopped long enough to remove the clamps, and rope, and exchanged the clamps for a forceps type. With each and every click of the clamp tightening, a snicker followed. It was back to the whippings, breath play, and a occasional yank on the nipple clips. It was impossible to control any of my thoughts, I found myself drifting in and out.

After what seemed like a eternity she stopped, removed the gas mask, undid the ropes, and slowly released the clamps to increase the intensity of the blood rushing back to my nipples.

What I did not mention earlier, that during our lunch the subject of needle play was brought up, and I expressed a willingness to tryout this avenue of play.

Commanding me to stand, I was taken over to the medical table. My arms were bound over my head, and my legs tied to the table. Hanging next to me was a vast assortment of implements used in medical play. I starting to feel a rush of emotions come over me.

With her sadistic tone, she asked me if I had any idea of what she had in store for me next. Looking down at my already deformed and tender nipples, all I could do was shake my head yes, but the voice inside was saying oh no. Without any warning I was blindfolded. Hearing all the movement and preparations in the background, feeling her apply a cold liquid to my nipples, made for a intense head rush. A feeling that I haven't had in quite awhile.


She removed the blindfold, and all my attention was focused on her. I knew in my heart once I saw her standing in front of me with the sadistic look, and a needle in one hand, that she was the mistress I had been looking for.

With one hand she pinched and pulled my nipple, and in a very deliberate manner, inserted the 1st of what was to be 6 needles into my nipples. Each of the needles were perfectly placed, with all of them running in different directions. Needle play for me was awesome, I was able to experience new and exciting sensations. Actually I really did not what it to end.

Once she removed the last needle, her attention turned to carefully attending my wounds. Which much to my surprise were barely visible. She untied me, and gave me a minute to gather myself, I think she could sense my buzz.

I was then taken to her whipping bench, my arms and legs were tightly bound. There I was face down, with my bum positioned for her pleasure. After some paddling and whipping, and with that evil snicker I was told that this is just a warm up. With her sadistic tone she said that after this little warm up, that she planned to whale on my bum. Which is exactly what she did. Methodically she whipped me, with every change of her whip, came a increase in the whips sting. My struggles were useless against this relentless attack.

Soon any background noise disappeared, it was replaced with the sound of the whip striking my skin, and then it was just me, and the sting of the whip. I was in a unbelievable head space.

When the whipping finally ended, I was untied, left with my body quivering, completely drained, and unable to move. After a few minutes, she helped me up, and instructed me to get dressed.

After dressing, I returned to the dungeon, we shared some final thoughts, and then I left. I left with my head in the clouds, in the ultimate sub space, already thinking of our next meeting.

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...there's a circular imprint of a lube bottle on your model releases.

...you nearly slip, fall, and crack your head open on the bathtub(due to repeated
washing of rubber/latex and the lube film that develops)

...your living room, dining area, kitchen, and bathroom all smell like rubber because
of all the garments hanging to dry.

...no matter how much you wash everything you'll always find glitter and fake blood
from performances and shows you've attended.

...all the doorknobs are slippery.

...your phone starts making new noises due to all the lube that's on it all the time.

...it's amazing how soft your skin is!

...your still camera and video camera are slippery.

...trips to the Container Store are made to have extra storage for garments...and you
realize your car now smells like rubber.

...you seriously consider buying stock in Eros Lube. (Do they even have stock
options?)


Feel free to add your own in a comment!

Yes, Chicago slaves and pervs! Miss Maya and I will be shooting video this Tuesday, the 31st. We have slots available starting at 4pm and going into the late evening. Email me at MistressNatalya@gmail.com.

We require you to sign a model release, bring two forms of id and a small gift for the dungeon. It is not necessary to be unhooded to shoot with us. All boundaries are discussed and respected.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tonight I will be tormenting victims at Exit's weekly Bondage A Go Go! This evening Miss Maya, Mistress Cleo, and I will be a ferocious triad.

Come out to say hello and get your masochistic itch scratched. For more information, go to www.exitchicago.com

Last night a lady friend and I were having a discussion. Since we both are HEAVILY into rubber, we got to talking about rubber bedding. Given my current excursions to parties wearing rubber this season, I decided that rubber bedding isn't the most sleep friendly material in Chicago...it gets really cold in the winter, and, if you don't have central air, extremely hot in the summer. These extremes are quite harsh on rubber.

My lady friend said, "well that shouldn't stop the fun of the bedding!" I agreed...and we brainstormed on a specific slave position. I'm imagining a plush queen size bed outfitted with rubber sheets, inflatable pillows, and a slippery pinstripe duvet. The bedding's purpose is specifically for playing and sexual escapades with lovers. Once the encounter is over, I imagine sliding off the bed and collapsing onto the floor in POB(post orgasmic bliss).

A slave enters to strip and wash the rubber bedding. Said slave would be able to read me extremely well and determine what kind of fresh linens I'd want on the bed. Would I want a satin set? Perhaps the extremely soft bamboo set would be just right...

Either way the slave is completely unobtrusive-not making eye contact, knows just what to do, and has a keen sense of detail.

Valentine's/Valencrime's Day is fast approaching. As a treat, I've decided to lower the rates on my phone domination lines. I AM NOT, however, lowering my rates for real time sessions. There is already a discount in place for those who enjoy longer sessions.

Today I'll be available to chat about fetishes and play on the phone from 3pm to 6pm CST.

MNTP sent this lovely gem to my email. The following has been cut and paste from an email. Nothing has been changed or altered. I've only removed my play thing's real name for discretion purposes.

Enjoy...

(For background, the reader should know that the following moments ensued after Mistress Natalya devised a particularly trying predicament to utilize a new toy, a 1" wide split steel stretcher, that Natalya helped me to acquire. I was bound on my hands and knees atop a bondage bench, chest pressed onto bench and very vulnerable) . . .

Nearly in tears from the sensory overload, my head was spinning even while my body was firmly secured upon the kneeling bench. While I was tightly bound at my knees and elbows, keeping me in a vulnerable position, Natalya allowed me enough movement to squirm forward as she relentlessly probed and stimulated me. Deviously ingenious, she used the stretcher that had become a new favorite toy as a tool in this devilish predicament. My arousal from her handling of me would build to what I felt had to be the point of bursting as she would continue to probe and manipulate, and my natural response was to escape . . . get away from the stimulation that would casue me to transgress the forbidden boundry of losing control. Each attempt to escape, to squirm away, was ultimately restricted by the stretcher. Before I could even comprehend my own movements, I would find myself drawn taut beyond what I thought I could bear. I was sweating profusely as I clutched new depressions into the hard wood of the bench. My chest slid slickly across the leather of the bench, my whole body thrust forward, away from Natalya and her probing hands -- my whole body, except for my balls, that is. Only as I was stretched (ironically, under my own power) to the point of breaking would I realize that Natalya's relentless probing had, if fact, relented, and that I was receeeding (if only barelly) away from the brink of orgasm. As I would almost catch my breath and sigh as relief washed over me, I would hear her laugh and feel her hands on my hips, slowly but firmly pulling me back, the relief from the stretching receding only to be replaced with a new feeling of trepidation as she started in anew. I felt an entirely new wave of stimulation and pleasure building, one that I would have to resist to heed my instructions from Natalya. Her laughter was in my ears as I began to squirm away, stretching myself again, pulling myself to the point where the steel cuff bolted around me and my own tolerance for pain would permit no further escape, desparately hoping that Natalya would relent in her delivery of pleasure and spare me the shame of losing control. How did I get here, to a place where I was so single-mindedly driven to escape pleasure, that I would physically stretch myself to the limit of my endurance to avoid it? How did I fall into a mindset where the discomfort was a relief and I sought refuge from pleasure at the boundaries of my pain tolerance? While it was a mystery, slowly unlocking itself to me, someone in the room knew exactly the path to clear to lead me there, and I heard her laugh again as she pulled me back for a yet another revolution of this wicked cycle.