A picture's worth a thousand words, and moving pic

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leggymastress

Trans Dominant, 91, Poughkeepsie, New York

A picture's worth a thousand words, and moving pictures are worth millions. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RU2fpkYde4E&feature=channel_page I delight in tormenting those weaker, less brilliant, or less gorgeous than myself, which, at least in the latter two instances, is to say just about everyone. Yes, I am indeed a horrid, haughty bitch, but isn't that my prerogative? And don't pretend you don't love it, little one. Oh, I should mention that I'm a professional. Deeply fulfilling though it may be to get subliterate messages (usually consisting entirely of the single word "hi," here remarkably spelled properly!) from drooling morons with hairy backs and knuckles, I strictly maintain this policy: No pay, no play. I will ask at the outset how you intend to compensate Madame for the attention you crave. "Doing whatever You want," is not an adequate response.

12/7/2008 4:47:22 AM: This just in: "dominate" is a verb, rather than an adjective. Those who don't know the difference, or who pluralize nouns by adding an s with an apostrophe before it, will be exploited with even greater ruthlessness than I bring to other interactions. _______________________________ 10/6/2008 4:13:32 PM: Dining in fine restaurants has become ever more problematic lately. As I enter a crowded dining room, all conversations invariably stop. The gentlemen gape at me, most of them lustfully (my allure seems to transcend traditional gender considerations), while their dates give them looks that, if looks could kill, would kill them, and kick their ankles to hamburger beneath the table. Sometimes, as the other evening at a chic new French place on E. 45th Street, I am unable to control myself, and say to this woman or that one, "You know, bitch, he probably wouldn't be so interested in me if you were a tenth as hot," while spilling her cocktail down the front of her dress. A real brouhaha commonly ensues, during which the maitre d' tries to hustle me out while half a dozen gentlemen diners try to bribe him not to. Bon appetit! In other news, I have been hearing from a lot of MIddle Easterners lately. I don't know what their political or even erotic intentions are, but I do know that their grammar and syntax are generally so bad (even worse than native English speakers!) as to render them unintelligible. I was able to divine that one wanted me to ridicule his religion, which I inferred was Islam. I said to him, "The Koran eats kitty litter," but I'm not sure he "got" it. I would like to do John McCain. I would like to lead him around on a leash and spit on him and call him awful names and spit on him and kick him between the legs and spit on him make him imitate various barnyard animals like a kindergartener and stand naked in the corner repeating, "I will not stir up the racism and homophobia of mobs of redneck cretins," 250,000 times -- that is, until well after the election. The 2012 election. I'm sorry if I've gotten way off the subject of my own incomparable beauty and hauteur, but this happens sometimes. Deal with it. I loathe people who say, "Deal with it." _______________________________ 6/24/2008 7:01:34 PM: I seem to be getting a lot of attention this week from putatively dominant men, who suddenly get in touch with their feminine side at the mere sight of me. I'd say LOL, but I loathe people who are forever loading their communications with LOLs and emoticons. I'm also not big on those who don't know the difference between your and you're, which is to say around 99 percent of those on collarme. Aren't I just the dreadfulest bitch on two (spectacularly gorgeous) legs? _______________________________ 4/7/2008 5:35:50 PM: My favourite new worshipper described himself as longing to be bankrupted by a cruel, gorgeous TV dominatrix. He works in a warehouse or something, and doesn’t earn much, but insisted that Goddess demand every extra cent. I was only too delighted to do so. He whimpered that he wouldn’t be able even to feed himself, or to put gas in his car. I advised him he would have to learn somehow to derive sustenance from the thought of Goddess rubbing caviar bought with his hard-earned money into the faces of other slaves while he starved, and that if Goddess ever saw him waiting forlornly in the rain for a bus, she would direct her chauffeur to pull over so she could roll down her window and spit on him.