A list of things I enjoy doing in session, by no means exhaustive. Do not see your kink? Ask me about it. Perhaps I simply have not hard a chance to compose my feelings of it yet.
At some point I will want to restrain you because it amuses me to see my slave-meat bound snugly in my custom entrapment. I can restrain a thing in many ways of course, and have been known to use neck ties, panties, and shoe laces in a pinch, but my favorites are man-made goodies, such as:
For a woman not satiated by casual convenience, only rope can deliver the deep complex satisfaction of total conformation to whim. I want to weave a custom trap for my objects, encapsulating them perfectly into the image of discomfort I dream to create. Each thrilling movement embodies the connection between Mistress and slave, producing a knot that tells fairy tales of servitude. Naturally, the victim is contorted, restrained, and exposed. Bound in a state which most lends itself to being read, understood, and exploited.
There are no situations unable to be improved by plastic wrap. It looks and feels wonderful, it can be stretched about the subject to contain them within a more shapely shell, it can then be rolled and spun into a mean little plastic cord and transformed into a leash for easily collared body parts. All slave meats must be stored appropriately.
Your muffled cries of uncertainty behind the thick piece of rubber clogging up your blowjob hole are hot; super hot. I love to gag my slaves with anything and everything, because a slave with a good gag-face delights me intensely. I want to watch you struggle to collect your drool. I love a little gagged bitch-maid catering to me and my girl-friends, mouth agape, exposed to my fickle whim.
It is a true privilege to have the luxury of my exhale. This is why sometimes you will not be granted permission for air. That is right, I also control your air. Proper breathing technique can do wonders for an ill mind like yours. I know the correct method and I can teach you with my the aid of my cutting edge kink instruments: a manicured hand, fatty deposits from around the chest or hip area, and of course, plastic...
The human mind is an incredible miracle, and I want to own it. Through personal vested interest in topics involving the psyche and neurology I have compiled some interesting personal hypothesis about the human male. Those who lend themselves to my amateur research can experience the exaltation of complete ego reconstruction and personality augmentation. Ditch the boring old you and enter an exciting new chapter of your life as the mindless drone of a cruel rubber queen.
BDSM protocol training
One of my absolute favorite chapters of BDSM is protocol. Weather you are training as a hopeful for the Order of Indomitus or just want to become a better slave, learning and mastering slavery protocol is an absolute must for every slave. Become ultimately useful though the beautifully simple language of slave positions and etiquette. Take one step deeper into your 24/7 owned slave fantasy. I have a simple method for total male reform into perfect slave, and it is my professional opinion that you are a perfect subject for the program
Who needs boring old wood and metal furniture when multipurpose slave-furniture is a thing? Weather you are frail or brawny, you can lavish in serene servitude as my stool, holding up my royal feet. Will they be bare? My naked toes wiggling sensually atop your immobilized body? Perhaps I wish for you to be a rack for me to hang objects from as I prepare for a scene or change my costume. The possibilities are endless when the body is willing, and I know the body IS willing.
Photo Credit: Order of Indomitus
There are so many reasons why I would want to tear down your whole world and paint you into the ridiculous primate that you are; an evil force welling up inside me which needs an outlet, general frustration, a lethal concoction of boredom and creativity... Whatever the case may be, it is clear that some are good for one thing and one thing only, and that thing happens to be filling in as a personal jester for the Princess. It is a simple position really, you just have to follow all the orders, precisely as they are dictated, without screwing up at all.
Not only will I sing a sweet song of unscrupulous verbal sadism to you, I will also relish in the twisted expression of your face as you struggle to be the shoe rack, a humbled butler, a dirty dildo-swallowing whore, or whatever else strikes my fancy at that moment. As I have previously philosophized, we are not equally endowed. Should I decide you have enjoyed unjust comfort, I will take it for you, and rehabilitate your jaded spirit with some good, old fashioned degradation.
There is a certain dystopian urge in me to instill fear and uncertainty in things weaker then myself. There are things I may profess, because eliciting laughter from my peers delights me, but not as much as black mail. I take joy in allowing you to dig your own grave, I take pleasure in extorting you for it; truly taking control of you by virtue of your dirty secrets.
Does the thought of exposure wash an icy sweat over you? Does it trickle down to your crotch? The thought of exposing you for the bottomfeeder you are excites me more than any attribute you could tribute. However, a woman of principle does not go back on her word. Certainly, an exemplar submissive would be, obedient, and generous enough to keep my urges for sadistic gratification at bay.
From mild to violent; I am not afraid to bruise my hand in order to administer the spanking you deserve, or break my cane to teach you a lesson. Of course, not all implements are prone to failure, some will last through the very last stroke I have assigned.
One does not simply request a hard spanking from Princess Isobel Devi if they are not prepared for a lasting impression. Certainly, a properly administered warm-up will shield your tender buns, and a subdued experience may be requested for the novice or weenie. Once deemed ready, you will be introduced to the blind spanking rage that is my love for bare hand discipline over my royal knee.
humans simply cannot get enough.