The SMITH Diaries Project

The Kidnapping

Tuesday, May 15th, 2007

By Mistress Y

I arrive at the chic bar in Manhattan’s meatpacking district at midnight. Beautiful fashionistas are mingling with cocktails raised on-guard to their chests, conversing with hyper-expression, laughing on cue. I scan the room and see X standing to the right. He has been watching the door, one hand cupping a short whisky glass, his other shoved into his pocket. He’s trying to look as relaxed as his tall, body builder physique allows, achieving more of a lazy bulldog demeanor. During the normal day, X is a gym trainer to the wealthy, Upper East Side clientele. We joke that we both train CEO’s for a living. He tries to catch my attention, but I walk past him, pushing past a gathering of slinky girls. I don’t know him yet, not by script anyhow. In reality, I’ve known him for over a year. But we are already “in play.” This bar is my dungeon; these party people, my extras.

A month ago, X and I had a meeting at a local café to arrange the details of the abduction scene. Ever since he had met me for our first session, X had conveyed his fantasy of being seduced and taken captive for an extended period of time. X is a bondage enthusiast; he can take my ultimate bondage gear. He is also a well-versed masochist, enjoyable for various kinds of pain, from electrical shock to standard corporal punishment. I have played with him over a dozen times and know his body well—its reactions and limits and desires. I enjoy taking control of his thoughts through his body because, from the effusive emails he sends after our sessions, I know that he appreciates my careful details. He knows when each strap is locked down right. He remembers what shoes I wear when his face is to the ground. He remembers my every rule to the letter and follows them. He only crosses the “secondary rules,” such as not using my full title and name when addressing me, when he yearns for instant punishment. He knows that he is not to cross the primary rules, such as no touching and no sexual advances, for the fear of dismissal. But this time, the rules have changed.

In seduction mode, I expect him to make advances. In captive role, I expect him to fight back and protest. I am ready.

At the café, X gave me a large deposit on the session. He trusts me completely, but I don’t like to take the full tribute until the session has been executed. We set up a different set of primary rules, still maintaining physical respect and hard limits.

We set up four dates during which he was instructed to arrive at the predetermined bar at 11pm and have three drinks until 1am. If I didn’t arrive, he could leave (that way he would never really be sure which date he would be abducted). It could have been the first date night. But I arrive on the third. He has already come to this same bar and drank a lonely two nights, waiting for his seductress to carry him away. If I hadn’t arrived, it would have been a sure bet that I’d arrive on the fourth night. I don’t like to give that confidence. I saw from the look in his face, though, that he knows me better than I think he does. He knows I don’t like to be a sure bet and so expected me tonight. Damnit.

I have to get even.

I order a drink and see X out of the corner of my eye begin his approach–not an easy task through the obstacle course of people. The beginning of our script is set that he should offer me a drink. He comes close and I slide through the crowd to the women’s restroom. Let him wait. Hunt. Chase.

After a few minutes of fixing my hair and renewing a decision, I come out of the bathroom, walk with determination past X, brush my arm against him, and walk out. I’ll see him the fourth night. Let this be a tease.

The fourth date night is set another week away. There is supposed to be no contact between us during this period, but he sends me an email of only two words: “You’re evil.” I can’t help but laugh and clap my hands with giddiness.

Fourth night. Same time. Same place. Same people, it would seem. This time, X makes his way to me right away. Determined. We pretend to meet for the first time, exchanging names. “I think that I saw you here a few nights ago,” X says. I smile at him coyly and brush a piece of my hair back from my face as if I were about to turn away.

He asks me if he can buy me a drink.

“No,” I say. “But I’ll buy you one.” I look at his glass full of whiskey. It’s probably something smooth and expensive. I buy him a Jack Daniels and take his drink as my own. He raises his eyebrow in mock surprise at my bold move.

“You’re a very intriguing woman,” X says. I almost laugh. His acting reminds me of a TV detective. Dialogue in role play can be so silly. But, come to think of it, bar dialogue is usually pretty silly. “I’d like to find out more about you.” I’m biting my tongue to keep from spitting whisky.

We banter through a few minutes more of Oscar-winning acting, and then we’re in a taxi, heading back to my studio. The lights of the West Side highway are racing by the windows as I am sitting close, then closer to X. He reaches to put his hand on my neck, to lean over to kiss me, but it’s slow and hesitant. I grab his wrist with my small hand and grip my sharpened fingernails in. “Not here, but later, I promise.” I look into his eyes and smile the promise. He’s mine from midnight to midnight. There’s plenty of time left.

I take on about three overnight sessions per month and extended days (two to three) about once every three months. For an overnight session that starts at 6-7 pm and ends the next morning by 10 am, the fee is $1500- 2000. The client (and I) get about six hours of sleep. For X’s sort of kidnapping scene, the fee goes up due to the involvement and preparation. During the 24 hours of session, I will get a minimum of four hours sleep. He will get none.

I build one torture scene into another. From suspending him upside down and dunking his head in cold water, to having him crawl from one end of my studio to the other with weights attached to his nipples and genitals, to immobilizing him into a kneeling position on a sheet of gravel. While I take my two hours of sleep, he is hooked up to an electrical shock program that pulses into his rectum. There is more, but a Domina must keep some secrets.

Personal play with abduction can be similar, but not at all set up. I actually enjoy the thrill of abducting a total stranger/potential lover for a whole evening. One of my full 24-hour “kidnap” scenes happened a few years ago in Amsterdam (of course). It was a crisp, spring night and I was visiting the Netherlands with my friend, Marie, a busty, blonde Dominatrix from London. We each had slaves traveling with us, but we left them on their own for the night to prowl a city disco. (Well, on their own with explicit commands. I demanded that my slave visit a local Dominatrix for a caning session. I wanted to see marks as evidence the next morning).

After hours of mad dancing and several flutes of champagne, I turned around to see a beautiful man standing a little too close to me from behind. He smiled and his blue eyes opened my desires. He moved even closer and danced his hips close to mine. He danced with a smooth, sexy rhythm. He touched me lightly on my waist with his fingertips. My face, close to his chest, I could discern large-gauged, nipple rings under his linen shirt. Piercings. Yum.

He spoke little English and I speak absolutely no Dutch. In the midst of loud, electronic music, it took multiple attempts of charades and articulate screaming to express our names to one another, never mind trying suave dialogue. Finally, I pulled him to the bar and retrieved a pen from the bartender to scrawl my name down. He nodded and wrote, “Arjen.” Yeah, I could have guessed that, right. The truth is that my full name is not any more common than his. Relieved that the name ordeal was over, we then stared at each other with frustration because there was no way we could communicate in the flashing lights and pumping music. It would have been sensible to move back into the non-verbal language of dance. But I wanted to play. I wanted to pull on those nipple rings.

“Come with me,” I shouted, pointing to him and then to me and then to the exit.

“Okay,” Arjen said. That was the extent of the seduction.

I retrieved Marie. Arjen consulted his friends, who patted him on his back as he pulled on his leather coat with a grin to follow me out. I smiled the bigger smile, though, being so glad for the ample amount of rope and duct tape that I had stowed in my luggage.

Hunt and capture. Both of these cases were consensual. The former session, though, comprised of planned details, a stun gun, and a sturdy sense of humor. I had prepped the studio with equipment ready at the door to lock X into heavy metal. I kept X in chains or in the cage for the entire time. I bound Arjen in rope and duct tape after we had shed our clothes. Even while I whipped his chest with a short rubber cat, I seduced with my body language and eyes. I still kept him safe. I kept him captive by simply telling him that he was not allowed to leave the room. In the morning, I stepped out to retrieve coffee and have breakfast with my friends. Arjen was hogtied by the bed, the “Do Not Disturb” sign was on the door handle. If he had asked to leave, given an excuse of a job or fear, I would have let him go. X could have broken into tears, screamed, shouted bloody murder and I wouldn’t have him go unless I heard the word, “Mercy.” I knew him too well.

I love kidnapping. As a break from my daily routine and duties as a Domina, it’s a great scene to plan, as well as a great spontaneous night adventure. In my own seduction scenarios, my sadistic sensual-sexual needs are satiated. In my professional sessions, I make sure the captive feels they are completely used. At the same time, my sadistic psychosexual needs are satiated. For X’s case, he gets his money’s worth because it is a fantasy he wants to happen, a fantasy unlikely to happen if he leaves it to chance. After all, odds are unlikely you’ll visit a bar and have a capable, trustworthy Domina choose you to kidnap for the eve.

Arjen still calls me once in while. But there is really not much else to say that we didn’t cover at the club.

“Hello. My name is Y. I am taking you.”


p.s. Once in a blue moon, a lover comes along who is a match for both the sadistic-sexual and the psycho-sadistic needs. I am excitedly planning a very personal, three-day abduction scene. I may write about it or I may not…stay tuned.

Up Next: The dominatrix power lunch.

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9 responses

  1. Ahu says:

    dear Y,

    i enjoyed this one very much.
    thank you for posting again.
    I am looking forward to the next….
    Best Ahu

  2. Michael says:

    Wow…I love your writing. So refined, so controlled, so expressive, so perverse. I speak as someone who has suffered at the sweet hands and feet of Mistress Y.

  3. carly says:

    love your writing its personal without giving away too much. yet there is a touch of wanting to let people in without letting them have what they want and it is very addicting

  4. Tom says:

    … blue moon today…

  5. cha says:

    please write more often, i love your entries.

  6. Louie Monkey-Pest says:

    I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  7. Another Pro Domme says:

    You CANNOT be serious. This is not a real domme’s diary. There are so many problems with this entry alone, I don’t know where to start. However, I will say that no responsible, professional domme (and I know a lot of them) would ever leave someone tied up alone. This entire “diary” is obviously just a fantasy. It bothers me that people will read this and think this is how it works, when some of the things described here are far too dangerous. For the uninformed, consent doesn’t mean you should do whatever the submissive wants or whatever strikes your fancy. And for f*#k’s sake, DON’T PLAY AFTER DRINKING. “Several flutes of champagne”? What the hell? Like I said, so many serious problems here. This is NOT a real pro domina’s diary.

  8. Miss Y says:

    Thank you for bringing up an emphatic: Don’t play after drinking. Safe, sane, and consensual means also staying sober and aware. However, I do admit that I have played in the past while drinking, especially during personal adventures. I do not condone or excuse it; but I was being honest about my past experiences.
    re. bondage overnight- yes, with a cage and bodybags and chains, it can be done. Also, my loft space is directly over the Dojo so that clients are never unmonitored.

  9. wayne o. says:

    Just like a TV movie, this series should probably contain the blurb ” based on a true story.” My guess is that there is a grain of truth to most of what she writes, but it is puffed up. In the March 2nd entry, she goes to New Jersey for two (or possibly three days) and leaves someone in New York City, locked in a cage, hooded and gagged. I find that hard to believe. Completely true or not, it is some well written erotica.

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