Gordon stared stoically ahead.

His lovely eyes and his expression were lost behind the smeared lens of his glasses. I gave him a quick and dry summary of "The Hotel Event" as we later referred to it, while we walked toward his car.

"So...you DIDN'T take the money? Is that what you are saying?" As I am eternally grateful to those who know how to speak concisely, I answered in kind.

"No. I did not."

We sat in silence as he mulled this over.

"Why"? He asked calmly.

"Well...I didn't actually do anything to him except, well, actually HURT him. Not in the way he wanted. His face was BLEEDING Gordon. He was pissed. It just didn't seem sportsman like."

"Ava, you should have taken the money. Or at least half of it. This is all about the money. It took time for both of us to drive here and back. If he decided not to go through with the session that is his problem.'

'It just didn't feel right. Besides, you said the SM community in Boston is small and people talk. I don't want potential clients to think I am a two bit gypsy hustler, right?"

"Time is money. That is one of the major rules of commerce. You are a commodity that is marketing itself. Don't ever forget that. Your every action should be aimed at making a profit. Your every thought should be focused on how to advance your opportunity to make money. You could be a very successful entrepreneur, but you don't have a lot of time to fuck around."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you are beautiful and sexy but you are no longer young. There are always newer and younger talent coming up. If you are serious about this, you better get cracking. You have the advantage of being smart and Dommes have a longer shelf life than escorts, if they are intelligent. As you know, most of this is psychological."

"Jesus." I muttered, feeling thoroughly chastised yet insulted.

"Well, it's true." He shrugged and started the car.

"I understand what you are saying and I'll make a note of it" I answered finally. `

We drove back to my apartment, more or less in silence.

As we pulled up & I was getting out of the car, Gordon said "Hey don't feel that bad about it. Stick with it. You'll see, you are a natural at this."

I shot him a look of disbelief & slammed the door shut, feeling like a failure. Apparently a rapidly aging failure.

I immediately got into my pajamas and applied an anti aging face mask. While it dried, I rolled a big fattie and sat on the couch, contemplating my dwindling options.

TAKE THE MONEY & RUN?

"Stand up sweetmeat" I commanded.

He scrambled to get to his feet, eyes down cast with his hands clasped behind his back in the classic posture of subservience.

"Turn around & let me see what I'm working with."

He turned around in a little circle of coyness, his face bright red with embarrassment. I nodded thoughtfully as I sipped from my glass of high end whiskey. What the FUCK am I going to do with him? I thought. I slowly extended one leg toward his cock & lazily prodded his bobbing penis with my high heeled foot. He moaned. So I did it again with the same result.

"Kneel & keep your hands behind your back. Move it!" I barked. He awkwardly went to his knees again, as I opened up my bag of tricks. Inside I had lube, gloves, condoms, a GIANT dildo that I had chosen deliberately for it's intimidating size. I was hoping that it would scare my clients so I would never have to use it. I also had a braided whip, clothes pins, needles & 4 sets of handcuffs. I dumped my treasure trove onto the bed, spread everything out & told him to take a good look. His eyes widened in fear & he actually whimpered. This emboldened me so I swaggered around the room like a James Bond villainous, cuffs in one hand & my red whip in the other. I stood behind him & put the hand cuffs on. I ran my nails up & down his back, leaving long, light red scratches behind. He shivered. I bent down & slowly nibbled at his neck, pressing my breasts against his back.

"Oh Mistress" he murmured. Oh brother, I thought.

"Shh. Don't speak unless you are spoken to".

I bit him lightly on his shoulder & he shuddered. I shifted position & in that moment & to my great horror, he pitched forward directly onto his face. All pretense of submission dropped instantly as he writhed on the floor, face down, his hands still locked behind his back.

"What the fuck'! He roared

"Get these fucking things off me!"

His erection had disappeared & now his banker's face was red with outrage & not desire. I then did the worst thing possible. I laughed. I tried to stuff down the impulse. I felt my lips twitch involuntarily, a smile snaking all over my face. He then flipped over onto his back, caught sight of my expression & indignantly screeched

"What the fuck are you laughing at you stupid bitch"! That was all I needed. I threw my hands over my face, shook my head helplessly & gave into it. I desperatly tried to get control of myself. I was making little, half gestures intent on helping him, but every time I reached down to undo the cuffs, he wiggled & swore some more. WHERE is Gordon? I kept thinking over & over. Finally I calmed down & undid his hands. He shot me a disgusted look & bolted to the bathroom to inspect the damage in the mirror. His lip was bleeding profusely & I hovered helplessly in the doorway, extending him a white towel. His blood looked very red against it. He kept saying "Oh my god. I have a business dinner in two hours. How the fuck am I going to explain this?"

I continued to apologize which he ignored.

"Listen" I said, "Suspicion haunts the guilty mind."

"Yeah? What the hell is THAT supposed to mean? You sound like a fucking fortune cookie".

"Actually it's Shakespeare, but I mean only YOU know what has just transpired. Another words, no one will ever leap to the conclusion that you had a Dominatrix up in your room, that you had your hands cuffed behind your back or that you fell flat on your face. Just calm down. Face wounds always bleed crazily at first.I'm sure that it is not as bad as it looks. Let me look."

I moved toward him & he cringed fearfully.

"No! I think you should leave. I'm sorry. I know it was an accident & you are new, but the mood has been blown."

I nodded in agreement & backed away. As "Jim" cleaned himself up, swearing & muttering to himself all the while, I went into the suite & swept all my toys off the bed, back into my bag. I pulled my outer clothing back on, tided my hair & glanced down at the envelope, stuffed w/ money at the bottom of my bag. I bit my lower lip & took it back out & laid it on the nightstand.

" Um mm. Jim? I'm going to leave the money here on the nightstand."

He had come out of the bathroom, still naked & pressing the towel to his thin, angry lips.

"I don't think that is fair that I take it. I have only been here for about 15 minutes & well...things haven't gone as planned. I really am very sorry. Once I get a little more practice under my belt, I hope you reconsider contacting me in the future."

His eyes softened a bit & he nodded.

"Well then, I'm off. Good luck." I turned & walked out the door & down the long, anonymous hallway toward the elevator. At that moment, the doors slid open & Gordon stepped out.

"Hold the door. It's not going to happen. Let's go. I'll tell you what happened when we get to the car." Gordon looked at me questioningly but did as I asked. We stepped in & the doors shut as we went from the penthouse to street level. The two of us stared straight ahead, silent as strangers until we stepped out into the lobby.

"What happened"? Gordon asked once we were outside & heading toward his car.

"Oh Gordon".

I shook my head miserably.

"I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

Practice makes perfect...


My first session was a disaster. A true embarrassment. I laugh now & I laughed then & that was part of the problem.

A gentleman responded to my practice dummies post. We exchanged many e-mails, some akin to a novella in length. I grew impatient figuring he was just another jerk off at the key board. Finally, we arrived at a time & place for our session. Initially I felt pleased about the fact that I would be meeting him at the Park Plaza in the Garden Suite. Promising, I thought. Gordon drove me to meet "Jim" ( Kevin,Jim & Dave seems to have replaced John re: anonymous encounters)at the plaza. I was nervous, but not as much as I had expected to be. I wore a purple velvet riding jacket & a long, black skirt with a thigh high slit & black strappy heels. My dark red hair was pulled up into a careless top knot. Jim requested that I wear expensive, french looking lingerie. I complied. I had on sheer black thigh highs & black lace boy shorts w/ a push up bra. I glittered with a kind of low key expensiveness that I thought he would approve of.

It was agreed that Gordon would watch & mentor our session & Jim was cooperative, even eager regarding being watched.Gordon dropped me off and he went to find parking. I walked through the lobby & was terribly self conscious. I carried a bag of tricks & a cultivated, haughty attitude. No one looked twice-at least not with suspicion. I took the elevator up. I had instructed Jim to leave the door ajar & to be naked & kneeling in the middle of the room. I wanted my envelope in plain site. I nudged the door open w/ my foot & there he was in all his naked splendor. I a nodded at him and then I searched the room. I was in a heightened state of paranoia & checked behind the shower curtain & in the closets in the unlikely event that this was a costly sting. Once I was reassured, I put my bag down & put away the envelope & studied Jim a little more closely. He was about 55, a thin white man with a receding hairline. The room reeked of his fear. Literally. Later I would become accustomed to this scent but at that point it was unnerving & his unease was infecting my sense of self confidence. Being the narcissist that I am, I turned to what gave me comfort. My own reflection in the long & elegant mirror. I told him to watch me as I slowly removed my clothing. He was still kneeling with his hands behind his back. I wandered around the suite in my seductive ensemble & was gratified to see his cock was swelling. I pretended to ignore it while I helped myself to a drink, one ear cocked toward the door for Gordon's arrival. Ten minutes had already passed & I had no idea what to do with this skinny, petrified and naked man at my feet.

So I bluffed it.

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.

I had my suspicions regarding Gordon.


On a whim ( An old friend once pointed out that this is how I lived much of my life. Live on a whim, out on a limb. I found this observation disturbing & since then have gone about trying to curb my tendencies regarding poor impulse control. It's jarring when a person you respect challenges your self image. I always thought of myself as rather calculating) I answered an ad that was blunt & concise. An experienced Dom was looking for a potential Dominatrix to train. This Dom was adamant in the ad that there was no actual sex involved. Apparently there was potential for boat loads of money to be made by all.

Since my ship seemed to be sinking & not sailing, I thought that I would investigate. I was egged on by my above mentioned childhood friend. I'll call him Sebastian, who had been staying with me for perhaps to long. Going on four months and getting a bit desperate for entertainment, we found it in the form (or forum) of C.L. Sebastian is what I call a man of the world-he is possibly the most well traveled person I have ever met. He would bristle at the suggestion that he was a kept man, since he has married his long term lover . Let's just say he landed in an enviable position with a lovely husband and they richly deserve one another. They do good even while they sleep. However, Sebastian had a lot of free time as did I since I had been laid off. We were spending that time as we had so often done growing up. Sitting stoned on a sofa & amusing one another.

It was Sebastian who pointed out Gordon's post on Craig's List. It was all his fault Mom! I responded with what I thought was a well crafted, tongue in cheek post. Gordon, although truly brilliant, often misses my attempts at irony & did then as well. Sensing an opportunity to fuck with my fellow man, I drew out our dialog and grew more seriously intrigued w/ the concept. It was true that in a prior & somewhat unorthodox relationship,I had some modest experience in the realm of SM. We still had not met after months of e-mailing & phone conversations (my number always being blocked when I called him. How the world has changed since *69) but Gordon was weaving a seductive web of big bucks & adventure & I'll admit it. I was bored. I had been laid off for months & I saw every thing there was to see on cable. I was tired of reading, which was a rarity for me. Broke & restless, a lethal cocktail. So we agreed to meet.

Sebastian drove me to Gordon's place of business & waited in the car. Gordon sold antiques. More like a collection of eclectic junk in haphazard dusty & grimy groupings that made sense only to Gordon. I found out later that it attracted some serious collectors who indulged in amassing stamps, coins & old erotica. But what did I know? Very little it turned out.

-A

Down the hole, Alice goes....

Actually, my name is Ava. At least here it is. I'm in Boston & it's raining. Again. I don't mind, I've always liked the rain, the cars splashing by. The sound of urban waves and kids outside yelling at each other in Spanish. I definitely recognized the word punta. It's about all of the language I know. For me, the first sign of Spring, is the sound of a basketball being lazily handled outside my window. Lanky brown boys, spitting & whistling. It's a lively neighborhood.

N.P.R is playing in the background. Fresh flowers, simple white tulips are opening, placed in a tall cobalt blue vase. I just finished a warm biscuit drizzled w/ honey & butter & I'm sipping English tea. My client left a little while ago. He was the one who gave me the flowers. I usually expect & get them. I think fresh flowers are the height of luxury, right along with expensive sheets & linen spray. Having free time is one of the reasons why I do what I do and of course, it is insanely lucrative. Sometime I even feel a little guilty about it. But I shake it off real quick, cause the fact is I work hard for the money. Most of the time.

I am an Erotic Domme & Courtesan to the best & brightest. At least that is what my website says. I used to be a Business Betty sitting in a cubicle like a fatted calf. Sales. I believe that says it all? Anyway, I wasn't fat and I was good at what I did. Then 911 came, stock market scandals an a assortment of other troubles. I was laid off & starting going down...no not THAT silly. That activity is reserved for my private life. Besides, a good Domme never goes down. It simply isn't done.

I'll fast forward through some dead end interviews, a dead end job and some meaningless temp "placements".

Then I met Gordon thru the wild, wild west that we call Craig's List. No, this isn't a love story; we have a unique business relationship. Call him my mentor, teacher & guide. He is neither lover nor pimp, but a detached instigator that reaps the benefits of what I do. He ought to-he was the one who launched me into this sub culture in the first place. Pun intended. Brilliant & disheveled he asks for little. He pays for my cell phone and we engage in the occasional session. When I first started as a Domme, I simply could not comprehend that there were men who would pay me NOT to have sex with them. If only I had discovered this earlier...

Ava