I wore pink defiantly.

My sleeveless pink sweater, grey pencil skirt & open toed sandals drew more stares than the nearly naked woman on ( no lie) 6 foot stacked platform shoes. The slave men slunk by, covertly & hungrily eying me as their Mistress tugged them irritably along on their leashes. So typical of men. People in general I suppose. The closet subs desire a life of unrestricted depravity ( not realizing that living with a Mistress is still living with a woman. Except shes a bigger bitch than most)& being bullied in public. The submissives who have actually caught the brass ring, look longingly back at the vanilla women wearing the skirts( the pants are hidden underneath)-go figure.

It was hot. So hot. The air conditioner was broken. Leather and sweat made for a heady and stomach churning cocktail. I had a headache that felt like an enemy had shoved a live baby mouse up my nostril. I was lethargic. I was joyless & Gordon was irritated by my lack of enthusiasm. I kept trying to work up an interest for the giant glass dildos, the hand made whips & latex corsets.But it was just so fucking hot. I saw another couple go by. The woman had a grizzled salt & pepper crew cut. I knew it was a female because she had no shirt on. Only her nipples were covered by small crosses of black electrical tape(which you could barely see unless you were lying, like a mechanic, in front of her)& her breast looked as though she had nursed nations. She had on stretch pants. She had drawn an angry red gash over her suggestion of a mouth. Her lips looked like a mail slot. Her partner was a short, fat & TOTALLY shaved man ( No eyebrows. It was horrifying) who was sporting a pink, ruffled, adult diaper. He was attached to his cruel Mistress by his balls & his nipples. She was leading him by a series of three chains, which were attached to three hoops that had been pierced thru his nethers. He had so much cellulite he looked like a squat dripping candle. Now you may not believe me, but I am not one to look at my fellow humans with a critical eye. I am quite capable of both seeing & appreciating inner beauty. But come on.

Oh no. I thought, oh no oh no. This will be my first & last visit to the freak fair. I felt..superior. I mention this because later in this strange career I have often felt humbled. I have met some fascinating & talented individuals through the SM arena. But that was then & this is now.


I wanted to leave, call it an evening, but I knew it would be rude. Gordon had taken me to the fair & had bought me my first set ( 4 in total) of hand made leather cuffs, a red braided whip & some floggers. I guess I felt I owed him. And I still do, but I digress. We had made plans for Gordon to introduce me to some players in the scene (I actually SAY things like that now) at Dicks Last Resort. Barbecues & deviants. Yum Yum. As soon as we stepped outside & I could breath through my nose again, I felt instantly revived. I decided to just go with it and went to dinner. The ribs were great & the company was better. A silver haired WASP who just screamed country club, had been watching me all evening. He didn't fit my idea of a submissive & certainly did not resemble the crowd that we had left behind. He looked poised & distinctly British. His name was Peter & he had a proposition for me. Sounded a bit like the start of a dirty joke. In a way, I guess it was. He had a fetish of his own. He liked to be the first submissive with a new Domme. Peter knew that Gordon was taking me under his wing. He told me if he could see me alone, without Gordon being a witness or knowing, he would give me $800.00 for two hours. I could keep the whole amount. I hesitated. I finally told him that although I was flattered, I didn't feel right cutting Gordon out. He had been very good to me, I explained earnestly. Peter seemed a little disappointed but said he understood.

Gordon drove me home. I had been a success and there had already been requests to session with me. Before Gordon dropped me off he handed me a check for a thousand. He told me that my interaction with dapper Peter had been a set up. He told me that before he invested anymore time & money in me he had to know that I was trustworthy. He only confirmed what I had already suspected. I deposited the check the next morning.

I was in.

-A

SM Finishing School

So I found myself seated amongst brick a brack & forgotten treasures. Gordon was eyeing me up & down like a horse trainer. I dressed in my interpretation of what a Domme would wear. Kind of, since I owned no leather,being a cashmere sort of girl. I had on tight black pants, a turtleneck & boots. He said I had the look (um mm.thanks?) and confidence. The role could be cultivated & he would show me how. He claimed to have launched a few well known Dommes (later I found this to be true.) and would be willing to do the same for a cut of the action. Gordon had been in the scene as a Dom for over 20 years and was VERY well connected. I believe he also enjoys the cache that it brings when he is associated with a successful protege. I found out later how lucky I was really was regarding his tutelage & influence. Through him, I was able to move in some very rarefied circles of society. These people are moneyed, privileged , highly educated and fiercely private. They have allot to lose, as do I if I am not discreet. They are not my only clients of course, but the high rollers are my bread and butter. The rich don't mind paying well for their pleasures.

The first step was to set me up with a cell phone. Before he exposed me to his associates he thought it would be a good idea for me to get some live experience. Back to Craig's List. We posted an ad looking for "Practice Dummies" at a reduced rate. A surprising amount of people answered. I was to learn how tedious it could be weeding out the sincere VS the time wasters. This is half the challenge. The other half is in attracting the right sort of clientele. Chiefly the sane, professional, educated & lets be frank. Those with disposable income to indulge their dark perversity's. I carefully crafted an ad & a protocol e-mail with a few rules. One which is, I NEVER give out my work cell number unless I get theirs first. If they are not willing to pony up, then it's onto the next prospect. I created a simple page on geocities with a photo. My face was averted of course. All this helped, but a few rabid women haters, wackos & insincere always manage to slip through. More on that later.

Next would be outfitting me with the appropriate ensemble & toys. Kind of like a Barbie Domme. Gordon escorted me to my first fetish fair. I was not impressed. I seemed to be surrounded by a horde of unwashed & pasty people, squeezed into ill fitting & unflattering leather, latex & vinyl outfits. Couples were promenading the expo center. The most common sight being grim faced, grossly over weight and preternaturally pale females in ludicrous outfits, leading dejected & painfully thin mates around by a leash. Surely you jest, I said to Gordon. I was repulsed. It seemed silly & they stunk. He assured me that these people would not be my clients. The clients that I would be going after were a whole other breed & would never show their faces here.

I was skeptical.