Merry Christmas!

Grinch Jewell Marceau tried to steal Christmas but I did not let her.


Merry Christmas!



- XXOO Tanya












***

** Free Christmas gift for all members! **

I am offering a free download from DeviantDownloads.com - Tanya the Spy - to all members of TanyaDanielle.com. Join by December 26 to get your free download!


Happy Holidays!



- XO Tanya












***

"You have an incoming call."

The other day I stepped into an elevator and someone's phone started ringing. A bell-like tone emanated from it and then a computerized voice said:

"You have an incoming call."

The ringtone and the accompanying canned voice sounded three times before the owner of the phone dug the device out of his pocket. It reminded me of a conversation I had heard on a porn set years ago. Someone there had the exact same ringtone/computerized voice alert programmed into his phone. He received a lot of calls. Finally one of the crewmembers had asked him:

"Isn't the fact that your phone is ringing enough to inform you that someone is calling you? Do you need to have the pre-recorded voice message too?"

Everyone in the room had laughed. A few days later I mentioned the episode to cameraman Mike Raffone. He did not think it was very funny.

"A lot of people have that ring option on their phones. Most people don't use it." he said. "It's a good one because it's distinctive. It's probably an option on your phone. It's probably an option on my phone. It could be an option on anybody's phone. Some people's ringers play the 'Iowa Fight Song'. Some people use 'Take Me out to the Ballgame'. Why do you care if someone else uses a canned voice? What do you use on your phone? You probably just use a normal ringtone. I've never even heard your phone ring. Does anyone ever call you? Your phone never rings. Does your phone ever ring?"

"I.. " I began.

"Where's your phone?" Mike demanded. "Do you even have a phone? Is that why you always send e-mails? Because you don't have a phone?"

"No. I.. " I started again.

"You don't have a phone. I can't believe that you don't have a phone!" Mike cackled. "You really are a hermit!"

"I.. " I tried again.

"Danielle doesn't have a phone." he said with delight. "I knew you didn't have a printer, but I can't believe you don't have a phone!"

I halted his laughter by reaching into my purse and retrieving my cellphone. Dale Earnhardt was still alive when I had bought it, but it worked well enough.

"Oh, so you do have a phone." Mike said as he snatched it from me. "I bet I can program it to use the ringtone that has the computerized voice."

He started fiddling with it. I watched him for a few seconds.

"Hey, " I said. "Jewell is supposed to be calling me soon. Can we get started shooting the video? She and I have plans to go out to lunch when you and I are finished."

Mike's hands froze. I knew I had just said something that had offended him. Mike is like a great artist in that he is very temperamental. He looked up at me.

"Oh, you and JoJo have plans, do you? She's another great one. Always showing up late and then demanding to be done early. You girls make my life Hell. Do you understand how hard it is on me? You girls are nightmares." he said with some real bitterness and some feigned indignation.

He wasn't totally serious, but I knew that he was not finished. JoJo (which is what he called Jewell Marceau) and I often became targets of his ire. According to him we showed up late, we weren't grateful enough for the work, we didn't take direction well, and we behaved like primadonnas. The first point had some validity, but none of the others did. I knew he was about to embark on a lengthy diatribe about our various faults. He would wind himself up if I let him. I held up my hand in a placating gesture.

"Listen, " I said. "I'm sorry I was late. I should not have been late. Jewell should never be late either. We're lame. But I'm hungry and Jewell and I are supposed to get lunch. Can we start shooting? You can treat me to one of your hate-filled soliloquys the next time we shoot."

Mike looked at me with disgust.

"You act like I have nothing better to do than sit here and chat with you. I have plenty of work I could be doing right now." he said.

With that he stomped into the bedroom. I followed him. He tied me up with purple rope and we began shooting the bondage video that we needed to do. At one point he put his camera on the tripod and walked out of the room. He did that fairly often when he got too sick of me. I kept struggling against my restraints and playing to the camera, careful not to wiggle out of frame. Mike strode back in. He was holding my phone and he placed it on the nighttable next to the bed. I wondered about it but I kept struggling. Mike left the room again. Minutes ticked by. The camera kept filming. I continued to strain against the ropes. The video should have been over already. Mike was nowhere in sight and I was gagged. All I could do was moan and make incoherent sounds of anger. I was getting really mad. My bad temper started to morph into full-blown fury. All of a sudden I heard a ringing noise. It was immediately followed by a computerized voice saying:

"You have an incoming call."

My phone was ringing and Jewell was calling me! In a fit of pique Mike had reprogrammed my phone and evidently he was going to make me struggle endlessly and suffer. By now I was writhing around in agony on Mike's bed. The ropes were chafing and I was sweating bullets. Vitriolic hatred invaded my soul. It felt as if the burning rage was enough to make my temples explode. The phone kept ringing and then the voice would chime in and say:

"You have an incoming call."

I raged against the ropes in frustration. My whole being wanted to scream, but the infernal gag was preventing me from making any sounds other than feeble moans and bleats. Another voice broke into the morass of my torment:

"Uh, miss.. isn't this your floor? Weren't you the one who pushed the button for this floor?"

Suddenly I remembered that I was standing in an elevator full of people in a hotel in Miami. That blasted ringtone had forced yet another long-dormant Mike Raffone memory to surface. I shuffled forward and exited the elevator as the other passengers regarded me with odd expressions on their faces.

Mke Raffone, the evil Geppetto, was still pulling my puppet strings from across the continent.

Join my site to see the "Tied in Black Hose" gallery in its entirety. And about 600 other photosets and videos that Mike has shot of me over the years.



- XXOO Tanya
















***

Another weekend adventure..

The conversation started on a congenial enough note. Ann Parker and I had arrived for a shoot at cameraman Mike Raffone's studio and we were discussing what we had done over the weekend.

"You know," I told her. "I think someone put something in my drink on Saturday afternoon. I was at The Siren in Hermosa Beach and I started feeling kind of woozy. The room began spinning and then some mild nausea kept hitting me in waves.. "

Ann raised an eyebrow at me.

"It wasn't normal. In fact, it was really strange." I continued. "They pour really generous drinks there, but I'd only had three of them. I've been drinking for a lot of years and I know what my limits are. I never get sloppy drunk or start feeling sick like that."

Ann listened and regarded me with some type of emotion in her eyes. Was it concern? Was it disapproval? Was it sympathy? I couldn't read her face and I decided to infuse the moment with some levity.

"Believe me, I'm an old drunk - I know exactly how much I can consume without ever going too far overboard." I said with a chuckle.

Ann still did not respond. It was time to change the subject.

"Anyways," I said in finishing. "nothing bad happened. My friend drove me home and I passed out. The next morning I was positive that someone had put something in my drink. I felt like crap for the rest of the weekend, but things coulda been worse - at least I made it back to my apartment safely."

Ann continued looking at me and seemed to be digesting my words. I shrugged my shoulders and made a palms-up gesture with my hands to convey a casual, dismissive "so there you have it/make of it what you will" attitude. Ann eyed me a little longer and then she finally spoke.

"Yeah, I'm sure someone did put something in your drink." she agreed in a nasty, condescending tone of voice. "It's called liquor, you dumbass!! Why do you always have to try and make excuses for not knowing when to stop yourself?"

I stared at her. An insidious silence invaded the room. The tension mounted. I grimaced. Ann squared her shoulders. Mike Raffone grabbed his camera and it was ON!!!!

You can see this disturbing fracas in the "Tanya vs. Ann Parker" update at my website now!



- XXOO Tanya










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10 Minutes FREE at Catfight VOD!

- XXOO Tanya











***

Fair Megababe vs. the evil Satana!

Mike shot Francesca Le and me in the 45-minute superheroine extravaganza pictured above. Here he describes the film from the director's standpoint:

"It's Francesca Le as Satana and Tanya as the Superheroine Megababe. Tanya (in her civilian incarnation)takes a phone call for Megababe from the mayor. It seems Satana is back and Megababe is called on to save the town from her. She dresses in the Megababe Superheroine outfit as she talks about what Satana is up to and how she will deal with the situation to save the city from her evil clutches. She puts on a pair of pantyhose before the uniform and cape, plotting how she will subdue and capture Satana. When Megababe gets to Satana's place, they struggle and Satana gets Megababe xposed to and has her out. Satana leaves and Mega babe wakes up, but Satana come back in just as she is getting up, and the struggle continues. With more chlorororm, Satana has Mega babe knocked out again. Slowly, Megababe goes down for the count, and Satana taunts her as she goes. Megababe is resilient and gets a burst of strength and battles Satana getting her in a headlock, thus getting back in control. They continue battling and Megababe seems to be getting Satana down but only a bit, Satana gets back on control and they continue battling with Megebabe vowing she will be victorious on the side of rightousness. Satana gets her down again with the chlorofrom and gets away. Megababe tries to get up, but the chlorpform was too much, and Satana comes back to taunt her and finish her off with more of the . Satana is wicked as she taunts Megababe as she lies on the floor barely concious, trying to revive. When Satana gets close in, Megababe gets a burst of strength and whacks her in the head, knocking her out with her superpowers. She need more of her power back so she puts on her super gloves and Super boots renewing her strength to persue Satana again. She gets surprised by Satana, who sneaks up her her from behind and grabs her into a hold and gets her down again and crunches her tits with her own brand of magic. Again, Megababe is out cold again, but Satana has better plans for her than to finish her off...When Megababe wakes back up, they are in Satana's hideout, with Megababes superheroine costume completely off and Megababe naked except for the boots. Satana knows if she gives Megababe 3 orgasms she will become aroused and lose conciousness and all her powers. Satana is so wicked, she ties Megababe up and continues to arouse Megababe as with a toy to her pussy and some titty stimulation. Satana taunts Megababe as she keeps up the stimulation to Megababes vagina. With no control and tied up, Megababe tries to resist the toy on her pussy and megababes fondlilng of her boobs, but it is difficult, to say the least, and has a second orgasm. The battle is on as Megababe is weaker now and Satana gets cocky knowing that Megababe is really no match for her. When Satana smothers Megababes, tits Megababe bites down on her nipple and finds out that if she bites Satan's tits, she will lose her power, and give Megababe more power as well, so Megababe gets back in the game, and becomes an increasing threat to Satana as her strength gets renewed... buy the clip to find out whether evil or virtue triumphs in this twisted saga!"


Click here to download Fair Megababe vs. the evil Satana! at my Custom Video Theatre now!


- XXOO Tanya









***

It all seems like a blur..

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Boston Nightmare

I arrived at the Bali Hai bar yesterday to meet my friend Tim. One week earlier we had bet each other $50 on the outcome of the De La Hoya/Mayweather fight. I had felt so certain that De La Hoya would triumph on that Cinco de Mayo holiday. My hopes had not dimmed when Mayweather had entered the ring sporting a giant sombrero and trunks bearing the colors of the Mexican flag. Now I needed to pay for my misguided thinking and I flung three twenties on the bar in front of Tim as soon as I sat down. He handed me $10 in change.

"Why didn't you want to get together in El Segundo?" he asked.

I had mentioned that I was driving through El Segundo when we were speaking on the phone and deciding where to meet.

"El Segundo is a miserable little town." I responded. "There's not a single bar there that is relaxing, fun, or compelling in any regard whatsoever."

Tim swallowed some of his beer and did not bother to disagree. El Segundo is kind of like the town of Springfield on The Simpsons. Isn't there a nuclear reactor in Springfield or something? El Segundo has both a Chevron refinery and a sewage treatment plant within its confines and Los Angeles International Airport borders one side of it. You cannot escape the pollution or the sickening, strange smells in El Segundo. I think those factors have made half the inhabitants of the town crazy and left the other half very mean-spirited. Some people do like it there. They are the ones who populate the local bar scene in that blighted community.

"Yeah, I never really go to any of those places." Tim commented mildly. "Some of the people who work there seem to take pride in being rude."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It's just part of their persona. Or their shtick. Or something." he said. "Personally, I can live without it."

"I'm right there with you." I concurred as I hoisted my gigantic Stoli on the rocks to my lips.

The Bali Hai offers great service and exceptionally strong drinks to regular customers. It's only 10 minutes from El Segundo, but it may as well be on a different planet - a nice, friendly one.

"That Irish pub I go to in Culver City has a few bartenders who behave in that same grating manner." Tim continued. "I just avoid the place when they are working. They even give me free drinks.. and I still don't go there if I know they are going to be tending bar."

I smiled.

"They act like miserable people from the East Coast and they just never give it a rest." he said.

"You mean like folks from New York or New Jersey?" I chuckled.

Tim favored me with a scornful glance.

"No." he said in a corrective tone. "I mean like people from Boston or Philadelphia."

I looked back at him and realized he was being serious. My eyes wandered to the TV screen where Phil Mickelson was playing golf. I sipped my vodka and began doing a mental inventory of the people I've known from Boston and Philadelphia. One dancer/porn actress named Liz jumped to the forefront of my brain. Generally Liz used to behave in a sarcastic, rude, hostile manner, but not always. I don't even know if she's still in the business. Others in the industry who knew her had thought she was "tough" and savvy. She had lost custody of her children and I thought she was weak and delusional, unable to prioritize the various issues in her life. For some reason Liz and I often got booked on shoots together. She was uncommonly smart and funny, but she seemed to squander her energy fighting unimportant battles and behaving in an abrasive manner towards the wrong people. At one shoot she started a verbal fight with a young model who had accidentally stepped on Liz's lingerie bag. Liz tore mercilessly into the pretty girl and tried to humiliate her. Her cruel, misplaced rage came from somewhere deep. Yet Liz also showed up to another shoot with a half-healed black eye given to her by her boyfriend. Liz had not bothered to break up with him after the incident. I had found myself vaguely wondering if she had even fought back while he was beating her up.

One afternoon at a bondage shoot I overheard Liz describing various experiences she had had while dancing in Boston. She had been telling another model how the strippers there would go up on stage and yell to the customers:

"I'm fucking taking my clothes off up here! You better fucking tip me, you cheap assholes!"

I could easily picture pallid, angry Liz up there doing exactly that. She seemed to believe that inflicting her hateful personality on strangers was more important than making money or doing the job at hand. Presumably Liz viewed her manifestations of wounded pride as exhibitions of her own strength. Overall she was just too churlish for me to have much sympathy for her.

Memories of Liz ran through my mind as I sat in the Bali Hai. Tim watched golf. My vodka-tainted thoughts then drifted to a shoot I had done in 2005. I had shown up to the location and the photographer was just a dick. Just an unmitigated prick. Why are male appendages often used as descriptions for obnoxious men? I'm not sure. I like dick. But I did not like this guy and he was a dick. He tied me up in various contorted, uncomfortable poses while he snapped away with his camera and made repeated references to how all women in California were stupid and how all of them lacked backbones, education, and couth. Lacked couth? Wow, was he ever one to talk. As it happens I am not good at placing accents, even obvious ones.

"Where are you from?" I had finally asked him.

"Boston. I'm from Bos-ton." he informed me with boastful pride.

The shoot progressed and I had already worked the allotted number of hours. He told me we were finished. I watched him begin packing up his camera, the lights, etc.

"Um.. you need to untie me.." I said.

He ignored me. Later he responded with laughter to my growing discomfort and mounting fear. I knew he was going to wait until my stress level turned into terror. He began crafting something out of the sweaty ropes he had used for bondage. It was a gag. I missed my last chance to scream. I opened my mouth to try and force the sound out and he jammed that huge mass of rope nearly down my throat. My rational mind started to fail me and the last thing I remember thinking was:

What is this maniac going to do to me?!



See the full "Chair Tied" gallery at www.TanyaDanielle.com now!



- XXOO Tanya









***

TaylorSt. Claire vs. Tanya Danielle

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Tanya Danielle as seen by Mike Raffone

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Another Mike Raffone Production..

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A Cleaner Lifestyle

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Apartment Brawl

It had been awhile since Carolyn Monroe and I had hung out together. Still, she'd been over to my place at least a thousand times before and it seemed unnecessary for her to ask why I have silver tinsel decorating my table lamp. Not only did it seem unnecessary, it actually appeared that the question might have been intended as a pointed insult. Here I'd been expecting Carolyn to relax and swill a few beers with me, and instead I found myself fielding queries about my furniture. I'm not a decorator. I didn't even put that tinsel there for effect. Somehow it ended up on the lamp after a drunken night of debauchery when I was dancing around with the shade on my head. Carolyn knew that already. Was she trying to make me feel self-conscious about my excessive drinking? Why would she attempt the impossible? Who cared anyways? I was already one sixpack into my evening and a little liquid courage always helps when you have the inclination to bash someone's head into your industrial carpet. Know what I mean?


Visit my Fantasy Image Store to buy the whole gallery and see which busty blonde triumphed in this devastating apartment brawl!



- XXOO Tanya






***

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The Monty Bar

There's a bar called Monty's on West Seventh Street in downtown L.A. It has no windows and you can't see the interior when you are standing on the sidewalk even though the door is always open. The signage outside advertises cocktails, sports TV, and pool. Monty's is in kind of a rough area and it was hard to guess exactly who might be in the place. It could be workers from the numerous construction sites in the vicinity or it could be Mexican gangbangers. Maybe it's an array of people strung out on heroin they purchased across the street or it's a bunch of cops who get together after work. It could also be Crips, Bloods, or grandmothers knitting. The only way to find out is by walking in there.

The place was calling me. Why does that always happen? Little dingy bars with wood-panelling have a way of doing that. There was no way I could know that it had a wood-panelled interior, but yet I was certain that it did. Finally I proved myself right by going in there last Friday afternoon. About eight people were inside the wood-panelled room which happened to be bigger than I would have expected. There was a jukebox against one wall and five pool tables lined up on the concrete floor. A few of the patrons were playing pool and the rest were seated at the bar. Most of the conversation in the room was in Spanish. The bartender sized me up from a distance and maneuvered towards me in a somewhat laborious manner. At first I thought she was pregnant, but then it appeared that her gait was the result of some type of injury. I asked for a Stoli on the rocks and she asked me for my ID.

My Stoli cost $4.50. I sipped it and stared at the TV while the other customers tried to figure out what I was doing there. Something about their manner indicated that they were not accustomed to seeing many strangers in the place. Or maybe they just weren't accustomed to seeing many unescorted white women in the place. A large Hispanic woman in tight clothes came near me to retrieve her bottle of beer. She looked me squarely in the face and gave me a disdainful smirk before returning to her pool game. Her apparent assessment of me reminded me of one made by a similar large Hispanic woman a number of years ago. I had been leaving a bachelor party at which I'd been dancing when a woman had arrived at the residence. She kept looking me up and down and saying, "Oh, there's the little ho you had for the party" in a loud, derisive manner. I had been wearing a skintight, hot pink dress with 5" spiked heels. Today at Monty's I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and workout pants..

How did this episode end up with me squaring off in a boxing ring with Francesca to keep my dignity?? Join www.TanyaDanielle.com now to read the story and see the full gallery!



- XXOO Tanya







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Strippers Have Their Day in Court

Holly Body and I had a court date on the same day. Turns out we both had some issues with reckless driving. We'd never met before, but we got to chatting in the courtroom when the judge took a brief recess. Holly's conservative apparel could not conceal her firm, full 38DDDs. I wondered aloud why she had not been able to sweet-talk her way out of the 115 MPH ticket she'd received on Interstate 10. Holly rolled her eyes and said she could not even stomach the idea of flirting with some nimrod cop. Wow! It was like we were sisters separated at birth! I invited Holly back to my apartment after we had both paid $1000 fines and been sentenced to hundreds of hours of Caltrans highway work. Upon arrival at my place I was very much looking forward to openning up a bottle of cheap wine and kicking back. The moment was shattered when my new friend Holly started becoming rude and sarcastic. Among other things she even asked me if I always dressed like a dowdy schoolteacher! There was no way that I was going to take that kind of shit in my own home so I ripped off my suit jacket, squared my shoulders and prepared to do battle with my 36DDs. Holly and I agreed to a no-holds-barred sexual test of wills in which the first woman to make the other one cum would be the WINNER..


Join my archive site www.JackOffLand.com now to find out which of us emerged victorious!


- XXOO Tanya








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Black Dahlia

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Snobby Stacy

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The Defiling of Jake

There had been a long line of transgressions in Jake's recent past: his failure to complete simple tasks in exchange for free room and board, the fist he had smashed into my windshield during a night of drunken revelry, his hanging out with crack-smoking degenerates at the Traveller's Inn in Inglewood, etc. Finally I had had enough and subjected him to a brutal attack featuring blows to the head, rear naked chokes, triangle chokes, mounted lion chokes, the dreaded leg scissors, and a multiplicity of other tortures..


Join www.JackOffLand.com to see the entire brutal gallery now!



- XXOO Tanya










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Russian Mafia

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Rude Awakening

I live in an old building that has lots of deferred maintenance. Recently a plumbing problem in the bathroom of one unit caused the ceiling of the unit below it to cave in. Now I am hampered by thoughts that one day I'll be using the toilet only to go crashing through the floor and land in the apartment beneath me with my underwear around my ankles. My roommates both think my fears are funny. One of them laughed aloud about the subject and said: "Sure takes the fun out of shitting and reading the newspaper, doesn't it?" His girlfriend and I looked at him with disgust as he collapsed in gales of laughter. Eventually she started laughing right along with him. No one seems to understand how this absurd notion is keeping me up at night. It really is costing me sleep. The other day I was so tired that I threw a sheet over Mike Raffone's signature teal couch and fell fast asleep during a shoot. Shannan Leigh was the other model and she attempted to wake me up. I felt someone pulling on my arm and didn't know where I was for a moment. For an instant I thought the plumbing nightmare was really happpening and I was descending through the air into the apartment below mine! Too late I realized that it was Alexis lifting me off the couch with her superhuman strength so I would continue with the shoot. She was imperious, angry and already gaining the upper hand in what would prove to be a really nasty catfight..

Join www.TanyaDanielle.com to see the full "Rude Awakening" gallery now!

- XXOO Tanya

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Savage Cherokee!

Cherokee came over last night on the pretext that she wanted to help me out. She had seen the previous Tuesday's photos of Kim Chambers and myself battling on my site at www.JackOffLand.com . Cherokee told me she wanted to show me a few moves that I could use the next time I got into a fight. I pointed out that a 4'11 doll such as herself really needn't worry about such things as fighting, particularly since someone of her size was only equipped to take on a kindergartener or an age-shrunken Alzheimer's patient, and that I really didn't need to learn any new moves anyways. She pointed out that an aging fatso like me better learn to bust a few new moves, particularly since I looked like I was stuck in a time warp with my bleached hair and overly large breast implants, and that I was a tacky slob who evidently hadn't changed my dress since I fought Kim Chambers. As soon as her words registered I grabbed two handfuls of her hair and prepared to subject her to the worst torment of her life. Suffice it to say that Cherokee was much stronger and more vengeful than previously anticipated, and that neither of us wears underwear..



Join www.JackOffLand.com now to see who triumphed in this dirty battle!


- XXOO Tanya










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The Hokey Pokey: Part 1

"What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about?"

I stared at that message for an hour on the 405 freeway as I slowly made my way into the San Fernando Valley. It was on a bumper sticker affixed to the car in front of me and it was a valid question. Every time I tried to stop thinking about it my mind would find another angle of the issue to examine. Life really could be as much about the hokey-pokey as anything else. I tried fruitlessly to remember all the lyrics of the hokey-pokey song. It was a song, right? What exactly was the hokey-pokey anyways? It was a dance, right? Is it still a dance? Does anyone remember that song besides me? Evidently so, given the fact that someone made a bumper sticker to commemorate it. Or was their hokey-pokey different from my hokey-pokey? I didn't even really remember what my hokey-pokey was. I kinda sorta did, but I wouldn't have wanted to bet money that I was entirely correct.

It was eery how long I was behind the car with the hokey-pokey sticker. For a short while I became nervous that the driver might be going the same place I was. It would have been downright unsettling if the person turned out to be a friend of cameraman Mike Raffone. Fortunately the driver continued going straight as I turned on to Mike's street. I parked and headed into the shoot with my bag full of stripper gear. On this day I'd be shooting a sex scene with sweet, sexy Cherokee.

The scene should have gone well because I love working with Cherokee, but I could not shake off the hokey-pokey conundrum and enjoy the sex. She started getting mad and our scene quickly degenerated into a busty battle for supremacy..


Who won this impromptu catfight? Join my archive site www.JackOffLand.com to find out!


- XXOO Tanya









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