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Wednesday 14 May 4am? Do dominant women really have to wake up at 4am? Slightly sleep dazed, my personal servant Gina and I sit at the gate at Oakland Airport, ready to embark on a seven-day adventure to New York for the annual International Fetish Marathon. While Gina hunts for coffee, I get caught checking out the hot chick with waist length, glossy black hair and a fur-trimmed coat. She waives, and I realize it's the Vinyl Queen, looking particularly good for this hour of the morning. I wonder how many dominatrices are on this flight, how many whips and nipple clamps are lovingly tucked way in well-locked suitcases in the cargo hold of our plane, and when we board I'm not at all surprised to see that VQ is seated one row behind us. I decide this is a very kinky plane. I freely admit I'm past the age of being a party girl, and while my itinerary is filled with lots of late night events and public appearances, I have a hard time thinking my travel journal will feature many tales of all-night escapades into the steamy, latex-clad NYC underworld. I'm a sensible sort of Mistress, I like a nice supper at a reasonable hour, and I'll choose the refined cocktail gathering before the all-night rave. I'm June Cleaver with a whip, heading out to celebrate the International Fetish Marathon in the city that never sleeps.  We arrive in New York City with just enough time for dinner at Angelica's Kitchen, my favorite vegetarian restaurant tucked away in the East Village, before heading out the Gomorrah Kick-Off party with our bellies full of tempeh and our feet squeezed into sensible heels. This is really a family affair: we just this year discovered that Madame Cole de Sade, one of Gomorrah's co-coordinators, is my servant-girl's cousin. I spend my evening in delightful conversation with Mistress Alana and Editrix Abby, while Madame and Gina catch up on family gossip run around like a big advertisement for genetic predisposition for kink.We stop off for a slice of pizza at midnight before slinking back to our hotel in Chelsea, where Gina massages my feet until I drift off into sleep. We've got a big week ahead of us. Thursday the 15th When I'm in NYC, I'm a slave to my own desire to shop. Poor little Gina take three steps to each of my one long strides, and I drag her all over the city in search of the perfect pair of Prada pumps and cheap accessories at H&M. Buried in bags, she waits patiently by the dressing room doors and follows me from shop to shop. In the end, I make out with a slick pair of red and black Sigerson Morrison princess heels, several pairs of new panties and a leopard print tube dress. Hmmm… practical.  I begin to question the intelligence of being on our feet all day when we'll be on our feet all night at the Black and Blue Ball. We get back to the hotel and I tuck Gina into bed for a disco nap while I take a corporal discipline session in the front room. After an hour of spanking and scolding, my client leaves and I peek into the bedroom to find Gina squirming around in her undies. "You expect me to sleep during that!" she squeals, and bounces out of bed to shower and start the dress-up process.The Black and Blue Ball is New York's premiere annual fetish event, drawing thousands of kinksters from all over the world for ten years running. Gina and I are theatrical, and we wanted to play around with this year's theme, The Alchemist's Glass, by putting together an ensemble that signified metamorphosis. My first thoughts went naturally to ponies: I'm a human pony fetishist, and I had a fine vision of Gina all trussed up in dressage braids and harnesses, prancing at my heels like a well trained Lipizzaner. Of course, big nightclubs aren't really the place for costumes that involve lots of props and moving components, so I ended up with a circus theme. I would be the Ring Mistress, in smart vinyl jodhpurs, a patent leather corset, a black and white pinstriped tuxedo coat and top hat; and Gina would be my little fetish-kitty, in a custom-made latex leopard print dress and cute little furry leopard ears.  We arrive at the venue at 1.30am, after two hours of eyelash and sequin application, to find a line of pervie people stretched down the block. I'm not adverse to standing in a line, but a quick glance over the waiting crowd reveals a sea of black jeans, Victoria's Secret lingerie and (gasp!) khaki trousers, and Gina and I look far too polished to stand on the sidewalk with this for 40 minutes. Besides, Madame Cole de Sade and Mistress Alana have cozy seats waiting for us in the VIP room, and I use my best Jedi mind trick to convince the doorman to let us into the club without even looking at our tickets.The club is on three stories, with narrow staircases and very little in the way of handrails, and a throng of humanity packed into every conceivable hallway and corner. It's a dreadful venue for this sort of event: women and men in outrageously high fetish heels and boots teeter precariously on the uneven floors, and space-consuming latex fetish gowns are crushed in the crowd. After a thorough search, it becomes obvious that the VIP lounge has not happened, leaving me scanning the crowd for familiar faces. I run into Chiara Scura, who trained with me years ago when she was first getting her start and now runs her own dungeon in Hell's Kitchen. We try to exchange happy hellos, but it's obvious we're both unpleased with the crowd, in particular a leering young man in a white t-shirt and sweatpants with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Chiara points to him and snarls, "They should have charged him $500 just to walk into this place dressed like that, because that's how much my fucking boots cost." Gina and I both believe she's summed it up nicely, and after 30 minutes of being packed like sardines, anonymously groped and leered at, we decide to bail on the ball in favor of a late night carriage ride around Central Park. Friday the 16th I've read reviews that have dubbed me the "Martha Stewart of SM," perhaps because of my love of cheap and easy household bondage tricks, or perhaps because of my "It's a Good Thing" affect when trying to bring SM to the masses. What many people don't know about me is that the only woman I could truly imagine submitting to is Martha: I could dutifully tell her the difference between toile and tulle while worshipping at her sensible-shoe clad feet. Gina knows and loves this about me, and we have a delightful time transforming hotel dinner plates into beautiful displays of crudités and fine cheese. Tonight we are hosting a few New York Dominas at an in-suite cocktail party. The soiree is scheduled from 6-9pm, designed to fit in-between other Fetish Week events, just early enough to meet and greet before heading out to SMack! where San Francisco's own FetishDiva Midori is scheduled to perform.  As my Sisters in Bossiness trickle in, it becomes clear that the first portion of our time together will be a Black and Blue Debriefing. Mistress Sierra arrives first, soon followed by Mistress Yin, an old pal of mine from San Francisco recently relocated to the Right Coast. Lady Lilly Gardner and Bumble, Mistress Gael, Mistress Lissette and Mistress Senchu all arrive within moments of each other. We trade stories of the glory of Balls past, and I take a moment of pride in describing the recent Mr. S Fetish Ball in San Francisco: all pervs and kinsters as far as the eye can see, fantastic fetish wear, brilliant performances. We agree that SMack will be a great event, and that Midori's performances are always worth attending.It's a stunning room: casually dressed, clean and beautiful (if slightly wary from the previous evening's debauchery). This is a room full of self-confident, bright women who have practiced professional domination for years and love it. You might suspect that such a group would spiral into cat-fighting and dissing on the men who see us, but nothing of the sort occurs. We exchange stories of our favorite clients and our goofiest role-play scenarios, and lavish each other with giddy compliments. Everyone has such a marvelous time curled up on the sofa and in wing chairs, nibbling on brie and strawberries, that long after the party was scheduled to end (and even after I leave for a prior engagement with a New York friend) Gina and our guests go for dinner and opt to spend the evening in casual conversation instead of fetish wear. Saturday the 17th  9am. Gina wakes me up with a knock on the door and then begins bouncing on my bed like a girl on Christmas morning. On November 17th, 2002 we signed an exclusive contract of service and ownership, sealed with a permanent labial piercing, and today that original contract expires and we sign onto a new, rotating contract with no expiration date. Gina is an intelligent, well-rounded adult. She's a scientist by profession, and while I find her submission to be deeply authentic and unmistakable, she operates in the world from a position of strength and, frankly, bossiness. Which is part of why I love having her under collar: she's strong, she knows how to take control, she's driven, she serves me beautifully and she truly appreciates what it means to give it all up.Gina was raised in a traditional Italian Catholic family, and like so many from this background, fetishizes the Church and all its ritual. I've drawn up two copies of our new contract and enclosed them in pretty leopard-print folders and brought them with us to New York, and as a special treat for Gina, I take her to St. Patrick's Cathedral to read and sign them. We sit in our pew, Gina on her knees just a few inches lower than me, and in hushed deep tones I read her the new contract and give her a pretty purple fountain pen to sign her name next to mine. After we sign, we buy each other rosaries and holy water in the gift store (sure to come in handy the next time we play). We spend the rest of our afternoon playing in the mammoth Disney Store on 5th Avenue, and riding the carousel in Central Park. That evening, we dress to the nines and take in delicious Cuban fare at Victor's Café, then settle into our seat to see La Boheme on Broadway. It's a beautiful evening and we walk down 8th Avenue from Times Square to our hotel, little Gina on her Mistress' arm where she belongs. Gina gives me my goodnight foot massage while I wear a vintage black slip and my new ebony rosary. We're both delighted with our day. Sunday the 18th  It's hard to believe that anyone can think of spanking at 11am on a Sunday morning after a weekend like this, but my classroom at TES Fest is filled with bright, shining faces all dying for a look at Gina's bright, shining bare bottom. Through some stroke of lucky planning, our hotel is one block away from the Hotel Pennsylvania, where the conference is taking place, and we savor every step of our walk: I am in one of my vintage 1950s dresses, perfectly nipped in at my tiny waist, with seemed stockings and stiletto pumps, and my hair fastened ala Audrey in a neat chignon. Gina dutifully wears her Catholic schoolgirl's uniform, which she ordered to be an exact replica of the one she wore as a teenager, right down to her black and white saddle shoes.I love to teach, and today's class is especially fun because my attendees are all experienced players who know exactly what a safeword is and how to use it, and don't need a long lecture on negotiation techniques. We have an hour and a half, and it is entirely dedicated to the myriad ways to slap, stroke, spank, paddle, strap, and cane the derriere, with side-trips to the lower and inner thighs. Despite the early hour, our audience is wonderfully tuned-in, and Gina is a superb demonstration model: she quickly goes into sub-space, and oooohs and coooos (and occasionally eeeeeeks!), illustrating what feels good about being on the receiving end of spanking with her body and her breath. An hour and a half (and some significantly raised blood pressures) later, we believe we have successfully explained the mechanics of giving, and receiving, an erotic spanking, and we dismiss our class to go put what they've learned into action. Monday the 19th A free afternoon! Gina and I are both taking sessions this evening: her session will take her into the wilds of New Jersey to play as her cousin's assistant. My session will be a more subdued affair, some sensual cross-dressing and a nice footbath. We decide to spend our afternoon at the movies, and after calling up my two best New York friends, all four of us walk up 34th Street to the giant Loews Megaplex and plop down with a huge bucket of popcorn to watch The Matrix Reloaded. After the movie (and a fair amount of costume-lust), we head back down 8th Avenue to my favorite Cuban sandwich shop in Chelsea, and talk film criticism and fetish fashion over shrimp omelets and plantanos. That evening, after my cross-dresser has served me dutifully and after we have successfully removed all of his lip-gloss, I settle down for a little quality alone time. My Girlie is off at her session, and I lounge on the sofa with a snack from Whole Foods to watch the Martha Stewart biopic on television. It feels delightfully lazy and self-indulgent, and while the program is designed to make Martha out as a control-crazy bitch, it only makes me love her more. Tuesday the 20th I've got a Meet and Greet at Toys in Babeland this evening and all I can think is that I'm missing the series finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and that this makes me a supremely dorky Mistress. I distract myself from this fact by tying up a very nice man from Holland for three hours, utilizing the ottoman in our hotel suite in ways I am sure would make the hotel management frown. I love playing in hotel rooms. The longer I play in state-of-the-art dungeons, the more I find vanilla spaces like bedrooms and kitchens outrageously kinky. I love the challenge of creating inescapable bondage apparatus with rope, leather cuffs, a wingchair and some well-placed padlocks. I love using hotel bathtubs for watersports, I love the unending supply of towels that I don't have to wash, and I love transforming closets into cages and coffee tables into stretching racks.  I've come to New York prepared, with scented tea lights and my iBook ready to provide the perfect soundtrack to a scene, and, of course, as many of my favorite toys as I can squeeze into a suitcase. Anything I don't have with me, I can easily get at the corner store. I teach a class called Supermarket Sadomasochism, designed to unlock the hidden potential for kinky toys at grocery, drug, and hardware stores, and when I travel I find these techniques particularly useful. For instance, 1/4" diameter rope can be doubled, knotted, and then thrown over the top of a bathroom or bedroom door with the knot on the backside of the door and the loop on the side facing you. Close the door tightly, and the rope is caught in the door, providing a secure hitching point for bondage. Ordinary paraffin safety candles are the only safe candles for use in wax play, and are readily available at supermarkets. Sleep masks and ace bandages, found in drugstores, make great blindfolds. Kitchenware like wooden spoons and spatulas are essential for corporal discipline; other utensils like pastry or wire brushes make excellent sensation play toys. Cling wrap is a marvelous bondage material, and the addition of duct tape can make it quite inescapable. With the right mindset, any convenience market is a palace of kinky playthings.Gina helps me tidy up after my session, and we hit Little India for banana pakora and saag paneer before a short walk to the Lower East Side where Toys in Babeland, my favorite New York location to shop for sex toys, sits on cozy Rivington Street. I sign copies of my instructional video, Whipsmart, while chatting with the patrons, and am joined by Mistress Lissette and Lady Lily, along with my two best New York friends who inform me that Buffy is being taped on Tivo and is waiting for me in Brooklyn after the event. After two hours I've successfully given the staff a flogging lesson and played with every dildo in the store, and I purchase a gorgeous black patent leather strap-on harness before hopping the F train to my friend's trendy Park Slope restaurant, where I settle into the sofa and get my Buffy fix. Gina proceeds to get a little tipsy on the complimentary Flirtinis (made with raspberry vodka and fresh raspberry puree), and gives a slightly sloppier than usual, but oh-so-humorous foot massage before I drift off to sleep. Wednesday the 21st We spend the better part of the morning trying to negotiate the packing process. There's just enough time for hot and sour soup at Vegetarian Paradise in the Village before we hop in our car and muddle through 2 hours of rush hour traffic to JFK. Gina is glowing with all the fun she's had on the trip, and my suitcase is significantly heavier with new high heels and a lifetime supply of leopard print panties. It's been a wonderful journey, most notably for the quality time I got to spend with colleagues and the sense of camaraderie and networking that we all felt. As we wait for our plane to carry us back to San Francisco, I can't help but feel extraordinarily privileged. Many kinky people live subdued lives and only get to flaunt their fetish at events; for such folks, Fetish Marathon is like Christmas, a special opportunity to let it all hang out and indulge in kinky fantasies with openness, surrounded by people with similar passions and supported by great organizations like TES who aim to facilitate kinky communities. As a San Franciscan and a professional dominant, I live my fantasies and flaunt my passions with pride every day of the year, in a community that is open and supportive, and among peers who are as fiercely committed to good kink as they are to our right to pursue it. It's a beautiful life, and it comes with some beautiful shoes. Below is a list of links for more information about Mistresses and shops mentioned in Morgana's fetish diary: Mistress Lissette: www.mistresslissette.com Lady Sierra: www.ladysierra.com Mistress Yin: www.mistressyin.com Lady Lily: www.theladylily.com Abby: www.editrixabby.com Domina Gael: www.dominagael.com Mistress Alana: www.domina.ms/AlanaNYC/mistress.html Mistress Senchu: www.eros-ny.com/sections/bdsm.htm Toys in Babeland: babeland.com TES: www.tes.org
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