So, I’m slowly reading my way through Bitchy Jones’ Diary, which is fucking brilliant and so goddamn smart and — thank you, Lord — incredibly well-written. I’m totally digging her blog, because, while she’s a dom and I’m a switch, my switchiness means that some of the time, I get off on doing wicked things to T.

There’s a lot out on the Internet from a female sub’s point of view, and I’ve found some really valuable resources. But until now, I hadn’t found anything *worthwhile* written from a female dom’s point of view. Yeah, I found the standard “Grovel before me, worm, and don’t even think about going near my pussy!” femdom sites, but….that’s not my type of dominance.

My type of dominance is more of the “Gosh, you’re pretty when you’re suffering, and when you’re done suffering, you can get me off, gorgeous.” And that’s why I am loving Bitchy’s blog — because that’s more or less *her* type of dominance, too.

Granted, I don’t agree with every single idea/thought/what-have-you that she expresses. But then, it would be creepy if I did. Welcome to the world of independent thought!

And one area where I differ is the hypothetical Femdom Tea Party. Bitchy thinks it’s a ludicrous idea, while I think it’s pretty fucking hot. Although, to be fair, my vision of a femdom tea party is different than what she describes in her post. Here’s Bitchy’s version: “Okay, I want you to guess how many times I have had a tea party with all my femdom “friends”, with all of us dressed up in fetish clothing and uncomfortable shoes and we’ve all had a good old laugh about the hilarious (not *sexy* – hilarious) things we’ve made our subs do. Perhaps with a few lucky male subs on hand serving as footstools or dressed as maids. (Not *butlers*, not *naked*, *dressed* *as* *maids* – ’cause all women love that.”

And, yeah, that doesn’t quite hit the mark for me. My ideal tea party is me, my boy T., and maybe one other femdom. Dress code for the femdoms is whatever we feel like wearing. Me? I doubt I’d be wearing a corset. Probably just a comfy dress, or maybe a sweater and skirt. No shoes (I’m a hippie at heart).

And the boy? This is the best part: the boy is naked, on all fours, acting as our table. Relatively easy for him — just get down on the ground and stay there. And keep staying there. The view is entirely my pleasure, as is knowing that he’s there simply to please me.

It’s not the same kind of thrill as doing wicked hurty things to T., but, for me, it’s a powerful thrill nonetheless.

Oh, yes.