My Tootsies

i was just thinking.. my feet are real cute. but they could use a rub and new polish. what color, and by whom?

worshipers, send your ideas, oaths of service, etc.: email me at or call at 312-637-9391 x7.


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oh sissy geeks and sub nerds out there (i KNOW you are reading),

why are all my photos suddenly doubles on my new website? i mean, i rather like the effect, but still ..

i would like to announce here the RETURN OF THE FLIRT. there has been a long lag, but i plan to flip my niteflirt switch on for the first time in many moons tomorrow and the next day. THURSDAY and FRIDAY daytime. note it in your personal geek device. here is my button:

press it.

we had a lovely play party at The Mountain last friday, spanks to all who attended. i think we all showed my dear colleague Miss Panic, whose birthday we celebrated, just how much she is loved and admired. i honed my flogging skills with Ms. Desirée, an exciting new addition to our circle of celestial women. i got to practice the tips she generously shared with some quite willing bottoms and really got into the rhythm of it. i just can’t wait to further perfect my skills on supple flesh .. and this is career training!! whadda life.

that’s all for now, bunny rabbits. get some sunshine, spank yourself in my honor, and daydream about me when your boss is not looking!


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hi baby birds, it is true. after a brief summer hiatus and some time well spent in the country, i am back. back and bad. backer and badder than ever. how much did you miss me?

i am very excited about working more with my dear friend, mistress vashti.

do inquire about discounted double sessions. more words to come. some new, some same contact info.. update your rolodex: (*new*)
312.637.9391 x7


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na na na na na na

my muffintops,

sorry if you missed me at the HM play party last saturday. sick and busy was i … stressed and sapped. now i have the hangover of excitement and excessive phlegm and overstimulation, in the best possible way. and i feel my life juices replenish as i type this very blog post! sigh.

exciting things are brewing at the mountain. NEW VIDEO CONTENT. WEBSITE ADDITIONS. KINKY ARTS. shooting, kinky drawing, play- play- playing, all of this and more will be happening in our west loop wonderland bigtime in the coming weeks. i for one am AMPED THE FUCK UP.

i would like to write a series of essays at some point in the manner of nietzsche’s crazy-as-shit late work, ecce homo. don’t get me wrong: i am not an adolescent boy. i am not a nazi. i am not a retarded pseudo-intellectual. but hot damn f.n. is my man, always and forever. in case you are not familiar, ecce homo has chapter titles like the following: “why i Am so wise”, “why i am so clever”, “why i write such good books” and “why i am a destiny.”

my seedlings are SO big! almost time to plant outside, if only chicago would give me some sign it will not freeze our asses anymore. i thinned the baby sprouts a few days ago, and anonda and i had a ritual where we gave thanks and ate them with truffle oil: baby beets, baby carrots, baby lettuce … mmmm nothin like eating babies to put me in a good mood.

and i am in a good fuckin mood, despite the wan and impotent sun. the only thing that would put me over the edge, into ecstatic happyland, is if i heard more of your submissive voices in my telephone this afternoon. that means you. and you. naw not you, sorry. but YOU, definitely.

(312) 637-9391, ext.7

much love,

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sneezy weezy

your mistress has caught some wind from a dark place, which has lodged firmly in her respiratory system. fuck! being sick is sad. but drinking raw ginger tea with freshly squeezed lemon juice and honey, staring out my window, listening to music and radio shows, and reading philip roth and edna st. vincent millay is downright enjoyable, phlegmatic eruptions and all.

i know what would make me feel even better: MORE PHONE CALLS

or try the booking line to talk sessions: (312) 637-9391 x7

here is a photo by Mistress Kit from our Holy Mountain spring party. just me and a few of my friends …

in other new, i had my first bbq of the season and plan to do that about 7,000 more times. in a bit i will take a steamy bath, use a netty pot for the first time, and play the cello — perhaps naked — in order to generate and absorb its vibrations. i think they will be good for whatever is going on inside.


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lazarus phone

my phone was completely DEAD for a day! after appeasing some cellular gods, burning incense, hanging a sachet with rue and lithium-ion, and reciting the proper incantations from my verizon magic handbook, it has ARISEN. so mote it be.


(312) 637-9391 x7


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fuck lady gaga

hi butterbutts, better brace yourselves for some real time. i know i am supposed to come on here, show some skin, toss in an erotic anecdote, stir it up with a list of things i would like you to purchase me, and get out. and i will do all that, i swear.

i would like a complete collection of the published journals of anais nin, a spice rack, some real truffle oil, undies (size s), party dresses (size 4), and oh yeah, duh BOOTS (size 8.5) , etc. etc. gifts should be sent to Deliya c/o Holy Mountain; 917 W Washington, Suite 143; Chicago, IL 60607. spanking people rules so hard, and i did a bunch of it at the spring party on saturday. nothing tops bare skin on bare skin, the resonant smack of palm on ass cheek, etc. etc. alrighty, have a great day! xoxoMD

and now i am gonna jump back in. because i never could resist a politics-at-the-dinner-table moment. and because i grow distinctly excited at the notion of ya’ll as my captive audience. i imagine you all roped up, intricately tied by the invisible threads of electronics and desire. and i feel like it’s playtime, that moment when i realize i have you and might not know completely what to do with you, but it doesn’t matter because you’ll take and love whatever i have to give you, if-it-pleases-me-mistress.

and because, as i have reiterated numerous times at this point, i just don’t give a fuck.

so i have been thinking a lot about, oh, what should we call it … the THEORY end of this kind of work. gender stuff. connections between the sex industry and that freakish outside world in which we all still must put some time. what is influencing me is a combination of things i read and conversations with friends. and what is congealing in this conceptual quagmire is a stewy conglomeration of chunks like issues of masculinity, and psychological motives for doing and seeking sex work.

so i read this article in slate. it made a lot of observations i have made: that there is a lot of sex-negativity in my generation, that there is a conservative backlash against baby-boomers, the ’60’s and ’70’s, sexual liberation, feminism, etc. and that these reactionary turds lurk like shit-smelling explosives in a minefield that is ostensibly ‘liberal.’

here is an illustrative quote from lady gaga, who i must say i do not give two shits about: “It’s not really cool any more to have sex all the time. It’s cooler to be strong and independent.” um riiiight, whatever the fuck that means. like i say, no two shits. but anyway …

the article does not point out anything new because i observe these trends in my everyday life. i live in the world and probably do not come across many people in my urban milieu or what have you who are not ‘down’, ostensibly. yet dig a milimeter deep beneath this culture — and even the loose web of counter-culture, where i spend much of my social time — and the same old shit explodes in your face. duh.

so mainstream culture is pretty clearly the steaming pile of repressive poop it tends to be. and youth culture, even the freakier nooks, doesn’t always smell so great. so what are we pro-joy/pleasure folk to do? and what motives might we — ‘decent’ dudes and self-respecting, smart women alike — for seeking out the sexual underbelly of our society?

i found some worthwhile and insightful nuggets in this collection of essays about stripping: Flesh for fantasy: Producing and Consuming Exotic Dance. it’s edited by three lady academics, r. danielle egan, katherine frank, and merri lisa johnson, who have all spent some time as dancers. one interesting thing is they include essays both by sex work providers and sex work clients. we all know that 99.999% of these clients are men. and of course the outlook is largely hetero. let’s start with one of these nuggets. katherine frank interviewed a bunch of strip club customers; here’s what one had to say about why he kept coming back:

“Many of the men that I spoke with discussed their confusion as to what was expected of them as “men” in relationships with women. … “Other men complained that they were expected to be strong and assertive, both at home and in their workplaces, but their female partners were at the same time interested in greater communication and emotional expression. Joe summed this up very succinctly:

My wife expects me to be strong emotionally, physically, and I expect spiritually, too … But emotionally, she wants me to be strong but she doesn’t want me to be overbearing. She wants me to cry and be sensitive, to be the leader and the rock … I’m confused as hell. I wouldn’t say that openly in public but I’m definitely confused about what it is to be a man.”

boo fucking hoo, why don’t you dial 911 and call the waaaambulance, right?  it is so hard to be a man in this world, why don’t you cry me a goddam river.  no, seriously folks.  this is a pretty typical example, but i see this crisis of contemporary masculinity play out in the troubled psyches of even atypical men i know.  and i do not envy it, and i have SHITTONS of sympathy.  although we women often get this shit end of this shit stick of confusion, i have a fair amount of compassion for men honestly navigating the morass.

which leads me to my next nugget.  it is a patent fallacy that women who do sex work, especially professional domination, suffer or delight in the agonies and ecstasies of man-hatred.  quite the opposite.  plenty of them seek a place, like men, where the ‘confusion’ of real-world gender relations can be tabled.  or at least troubled. women can unabashedly be sexy and powerful, and (hetero) men can be unabashedly men.  sexual appeal and erotic desire can be openly celebrated, without all the landmines that we have grown to associate with such things. here is what one lady, merri lisa johnson, said about why she became a stripper:

“ In the context of an American culture defined by its intensely contradictory responses to sex – the lasciviousness and puritanism – as well as in the context of my own personal life which was, when I first entered the profession at age twenty-one, defined by an unexpected divorce that had thrown my moral framework painfully into question, this stripper sexuality offered a welcome alternative to marriage and the church teachings that had left me angry and freaked out about sex.  Other options were, I’m sure, available – tantric sex, swinging, etc. – but stripping was the venue through which I realized the possibilities of a freer sense of sexuality.”

you can easily substitute BDSM or what have you in place of stripping here.   let’s dwell on “a freer sense of sexuality.”  huh.  now i know i speak from a privileged position as an independent domme working out of a female-run space.  i come from a middle-class background, have no kids, and could be doing other things.  but Flesh for Fantasy also makes some good points on this front.  one, that there are plenty of women like me, who seek out sex work reasons other than poverty and desperation.  and two, that the danger associated with the work says more about the larger culture, the stigma and ghettoization, which leaves workers vulnerable to exploitation.

and how about the alternative, the straight professional world. here is johnson again:

“The abusiveness of a sexual script that encourages us to repress what Naomi Wolf calls our ‘inner slut’ cannot be compartmentalized as the product of the sex industry.  It is all around us, perhaps even worse in nonstrip-club spaces.  When I check the neckline of my blouse or blot my red lipstick before going to work, when my hips begin to ache from keeping my legs crossed for eight hours under my desk, I am living out a sexual script that prohibits the erotic in everyday life.  It can be seen in the ‘tight and constricted posture’ of conventional femininity, to borrow the language of Sandra Lee Bartky’s critique of patriarchal bodily disciplines, and unconscious physical ‘expression of [the] need to ward off real or symbolic sexual attack.’  In the strip club, there is no such thing as too much lipstick, and it is worth noting that my joints don’t hurt as much from spreading my legs as they do from crossing them.”

i must say, for a long time in real life i experienced my sexuality as a burden that i felt i was constantly shielding others and myself from.  while an unspoken asset, professionally and socially, i sensed it to be a kind of grotesque wildcard, threatening for everyone involved.  the elephant-with-a-boner quietly lurking in the corner of the room while we discuss work or bands we both like.  the playroom, in contrast, is a space where the elephant, in all his absurdity, is fully acknowledged.  which is to say, the eroticism that pervades much of human interaction is given free reign and not violently and awkwardly repressed.  yeehaw!

alright, i will leave you to chew on those nuggets.  and also to chew on this creepy and delightful gem:

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