Sin City Re-cap

The house always wins. Bend over.

I am back from Las Vegas. It was a 5-day blur of sessions, slot machines and sleaze. I went with Mistress Justine and Siren Savannah.

The Snake Man never came to see me. It turns out he didn't actually own the snake; he was hoping to borrow one from a friend. But when Snake Man told his friend he planned on taking the snake on a kinky field trip, the snake's owner objected. So Snake Man cancelled our session altogether.

The girls and I had a great time, acting like average tourists during the day - shopping, swimming, stuffing our purses with cookies and muffins from the buffet. And at night, we met all kinds of Vegas submissives. Some were locals, and some were tourists who wanted to do their part in putting the 'sin' in Sin City.

We stayed on the 28th floor of a fabulous hotel smack in the middle of the strip. The last night of our trip, the 3 of us were laughing and chatting and heard a knock on the wall. It came from the room next door.


"Hey ladies, I got hella alcohol in my room! Can I come over and make you a drink?"

The voice was of a California native in the next room. He'd heard us talking and wanted in on the fun. We shouted at him to knock on our hotel door if he wanted to come hang. I did a quick survey of the room and took every errant clothespin, piece of rope or other torture device and threw it in the closet. The dude came in and sat and we chatted. He was a 20-something guy from Northern California who had just checked into his room and didn't know anyone in Vegas. He wanted to take us out partying but we had to leave for LA early the next morning so we declined. The Nor-Cal Boy said goodnight and walked toward the door, but something stopped him in his tracks. He looked over at the bed and saw a piece of equipment I had overlooked when I de-kinked the room. It was Mistress Justine's giant wooden paddle.

"Oh shit! I see what's going on in here!" Nor-Cal Boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Don't touch that," I said. "We're getting up early tomorrow. You need to go."

He didn't hear me. He started swinging Mistress Justine's paddle around and talked about how he'd always wondered what it would feel like to get a good paddling.

"If you don't put that down, we're gonna use it on you!" With that, Mistress Justine finally got his attention and yanked the paddle out of his hand. But Nor-Cal Boy didn't walk out the door, he sat back down on the bed.

"You asked for it!" That was his final warning from Mistress Justine.

Savannah crept up behind him on the bed and pinned his arms above his head. I unbuttoned his cargo pants and pulled 'em down. That dirty boy wasn't even wearing any underwear! We flipped him over and while he was face down on the bed, we each gave him 10 hard smacks! He tried not to cry out at first, but by the time it was my turn, his wails were guttural. Nor-Cal Boy was breathing heavily as his pulled his pants back up, but managed to thank us while limping out the door.

The 3 of us finally got to sleep, and by 9am, we were on the road to Los Angeles, feeling like we had successfully made Vegas our bitch.