Ask & You Shall Receive


Sometimes, although rarely, I feel like the open eye of God is upon me. Which is curious because I have been called an atheist many times. If I were more energetic, I would refute this vehemently. I am a deeply, deeply spiritual person.

Just because I like to spend my money ( or other people's money) on ephemeral pleasures like a fine meal, fresh flowers & perfume does not make me shallow. Maybe just the opposite. I am all too aware of the transitory nature of life.

Through the course of my third session, I came to meet & befriend Boris, a Russian physicist who lived in Cambridge. By his own admission, he was a bit of an elitist regarding his own self indulgences. He was an erotic aesthetic & civilized atheist. As so many of them are. Soft spoken and a connoisseur of fine furniture,food and art, Boris taught me many things. He was the one who stressed the importance between real silk stockings & mere nylons. Because of him I own a modest but careful array of rare silk hosiery & vintage fripperies. He was a godsend. You can't imagine how costly these things can be.

He also had a passionate desire for a woman's foot. What can I say? It's a niche. He had stressed to me however, that he was NOT a submissive but simply a man with a sexual focus on the foot. This would call for a different energy altogether. This particular scene seemed more sexual to me, than the others had and I wasn't sure why yet. I figured that I would just play it by ear.

I met him at his ivy covered brownstone. There were slabs of stone steps leading up to a glass & wood vestibule. His apartment contained very little but what he had was superb. There was a very large, 200 year old Italian desk that he worked off of & well worn Persian rugs. His coffee table was an ancient marble door laid across the top of an old trunk. On it he had laid out with great precision a bottle of Taylor's 30 year old tawny Port, room temperature Stilton cheese & pepper crackers. The glasses were squat & gleamed dully in the low over head lights. He even had some & sexy house music playing in the background.

He nodded toward the sofa. I took a seat carefully as I was wearing one of the most elegant, erotic, unusual & uncomfortable things that I owned. While I was at the fair I had selected a hand made corset. It had been created out of old textile fabric & the print was of geisha's bathing. Under it I had on a sheer black long sleeved jersey. The corset cupped my breast from underneath. I wore a black wrap skirt(bare legged upon request)& sexy suede boots. On our first meeting, he knew that I was wearing the scent Joy. After speaking with him on the phone several times, it was evident he was a man who would appreciate such things. No point casting pearls before swine.

Boris handed me a cracker slathered with cheese & a tumbler full of port. He told me it would taste of butterscotch & it did. He had a gift for me. They were a pair of Falke thigh highs of the twenties series. Boris told me this breathlessly as he leaned forward. He was intently watching as I unwrapped the stockings. They were really fine fishnets. They were filmy as spider webs & sooty black. Beautiful. Boris asked if he could unzip my boots. I nodded silently as I sipped my port. He did so reverently & kissed the inside of my ankles. He then with great skill & delicacy pulled the stockings up & over my leg. They went as high as my thigh, where he lingered as he fastidiously straightened them.

We both stared admiringly at my leg. It was encased in the finest of silk & it just looked so....right. Boris sighed in pleasure, lost in some private & sensual reverie of his own. My own heart quickened when I glanced over at the side table. On it were three more luxurious packages. I could tell they were also Falke stockings. I had quickly acquired a taste for both the silk pretties & the port.

Still, I was nothing if not a quick study. I arched my foot in sheer delight & ran my toes softly across his lips.

He looked up & smiled.

"I'm going to burn you now".



I announced this smoothly as I lit a cigarette. I inhaled & sauntered loose hipped toward Nazz, who was still bound & laced liberally with white wax. I blew a Bettie Davis stream of smoke upwards. God, I thought, this really tastes like shit. Why do people do this?

"Are you ready"? He mumbled something incoherent & edged in fear. I grabbed his chin & jerked it up so he was looking into my eyes. Wow, he really looked scared.

"What did you say you sniveling hall monitor?" He shook his head & loudly said no.

I was nonplussed. Was he testing me? Should I go ahead with our original plan? My gut was telling me Nazz was not ready for this level of pain. Or maybe I wasn't. That decided me.

"I'm sorry pet but you said you wanted this. I'm going to do it. you might even thank me later. No use invoking the safe word ( I went with the traditional RED as the word) it has no power here". I noticed when I was "Ava" I slipped into a formal, almost prophetic tone of voice. Like a I was a cast member from Lord Of The Rings. This was never planned on my part, it just naturally happened.

He began silently thrashing about in his seat, his biceps tight & veined. I watched him thoughtfully for a moment & then made a sudden darting movement toward his face with the glowing end of the nasty cancer stick. He literally started yelling or praying in another language. He was not making this easy for me.

"Please Mistress, no I'm begging you! Red! Red! Red!" he howled. In answer, I reached down between his thighs where despite all the ruckus, he was still admirably aloft, & crushed the cigarette on the metal seat. He yelled in a strange bird like shriek until I slapped him on the side of the head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I didn't even burn you! Shut up before I shove my boot in your mouth." I demanded. I was disgusted by this absurd display of theatrics. I started undoing his hands & feet as he fell silent. He kept his head hung down so I clenched him by the back of his neck like a kitten. I hissed in his ear to get down on all fours & keep his eyes on the floor. He complied, but to slowly for my taste so I nudged him encouragingly in his ass. I sat on the sleek & modern couch & spread my arms along the back of it.

"Take off my shoes. Do it with respect & admiration." Nazz nodded enthusiastically & did as I asked. This was more his speed & what he really wanted all along. I told him to get me some oil & a clean towel. I wanted a foot massage. I commanded that he crawl & was no longer amazed when he did so. Already I was becoming jaded.

"If you do a good job, I'll let you touch yourself as you rub my feet."

I sighed in pleasure as he began expertly kneading & rubbing my feet. With the view & the brown boy kneeling in front of me, I felt like I was in some decadent third world salon.

A girl could get used to this.

He was hung like a merry pony.

He was so enormous, I thought at first he was wearing some sort of prosthesis. Not unlike one of the scary toys that I now owned. Initially, I was speechless. He was wearing white silk boxers, but nothing could disguise the fact that he was a freak of nature. I approached him with a mixture of fascination, detached excitement & curiosity. I felt like a scientist who had stumbled across a new species of man.

"Is it real?" I whispered almost inaudibly. Nazz nodded shyly, glancing at me quickly & then away.

"Take off your shorts. I want to inspect this a little more closely." He hesitated then slowly pulled down his underwear until they were puddled around his feet. I crooked my finger at him & he shuffled toward me. His penis seemed as long as the arm of some pagan god. He had to be at least thirteen inches. I tore my eyes away & gave him an order. When in doubt, play the bitch.

"Where is my tribute? I want it." He turned & went to a glass coffee table where my envelope was waiting.

"Put it between your teeth & crawl back to me." Nazz kept his eyes down & did as I commanded. I was displeased with his awkward scrambling so I gave him more direction. He had the ass of a prince.

"No. Start over. I want you to move with more grace than that. Think of yourself as a magnificent jungle beast. Keep your eyes on my feet & follow them. Right now, my feet should be your whole world. Just think about finally getting them between your lips & fingers."

I began casually strolling around his apartment, not sparing a glance behind me. I was confident he was crawling after me because I could see our images reflected in the glass walls. He was gamely stretching & prowling, the envelope still between his teeth. I smirked & turned around, taking the envelope out of his mouth. I checked & the money was all there. I put it in my bag & withdrew a package of cigarettes, a lighter, a set of hand cuffs & a length of black silk rope. Hey. It was his fantasy.

"Sit". I pointed at a metal chair that was perfect for what I had in mind. Nazz had told me during our phone conversation that he wanted to play with my feet, but he also wanted to see how it would feel to be burned with a cigarette. I suspected I already knew the answer, but some people just have to find out the hard way.

I cuffed his hands behind the back of the chair & bound his feet to the legs of the chair. He was trembling & I felt a pang of empathy which I quickly squelched. I was trembling as well, which I also ignored. However, I was intrigued with my own reaction. How would I overcome my own natural inclination regarding not inflicting pain on my fellow man? I reached for the lighter & heard his quick intake of breath.

I decided to take it slowly & raise the stakes as the session progressed. More for my benefit, than for his. Instead of lighting a cigarette, I lit a candle & stood over him holding it aloft. We both watched silently as the wax gathered at the lip of the candle. We both watched silently as it spilled over the edge, onto Nazz's smooth, brown chest & hard flat belly.

He threw back his head & screamed like a bitch. I noticed however, his freak flag was still flying at full mast. Whimsically, I decided to see if I could press the advantage. What would AVA do? I asked myself. Ava would throw herself fully into the spirit of things.

He was whimpering & begging me to stop. Instead, I straddled his legs & raised the candle much higher & shushed him. I bent forward & lightly licked his tears & whispered " We are going to do this together Nazz. You are to weak for me to really burn. Look how you are crying now. I am making you stronger. You may cry, but you cannot whimper. It disgusts me." He nodded, his chin dropped to his chest. He looked like a man who had been interrogated for hours. Really, I thought, he is being a bit dramatic.

I tilted the candle & once again the wax spilled against his taunt skin. It looked like vanilla icing on a rich slab of caramel cake. This time he flinched only a little.

"Shall we continue"? I asked with a raised brow. Although it was raised theoretically. It was a facial gesture I wished I was capable of, but had never mastered. He nodded again.

Suddenly I was really feeling it & not pretending at all. What was it? What was I feeling?

It was power.

Silk And Plether


I made a decision to give myself seven sessions. The number seven tilts the balance & I just like it. I would know by then, if I was indeed " a natural" or a smirking poseur.

I sifted through the seemingly endless, out pouring of need, the pleading & groveling requests sent to me via e-mail. It was their slavering greediness, their insular self indulgent fingering of their private & morbid obsessions that I found off putting. Oddly, the nude photos so many of them insisted on sending left me unfazed. Their optimistic, bashful faces & shyly displayed bodies moved me more than the fervid, over heated words.

I chose to meet with a young Muslim named Nazz. He was a wealthy, international student & was living with his brother in a expensive high rise apartment. He sent his photo ( He was simply beautiful. Dark skin, smooth, with long lidded Egyptian eyes. Just a baby really)& we also spoke on the phone. He sounded charming & refreshingly naive. He was a good person to experiment with since he knew even less than I did. He said he was a virgin who was trying to save himself for marriage. How...quaint! I thought. He also had a fierce foot fetish. My feet are exceptional. I really should have them insured.

I called a cab & I arrived a little early so I could get acquainted with the lay out. I then gave Nazz a ring to let him know I had arrived. He had the concierge send me up.

"Very good Mistress. I eagerly await having your beautiful feet beneath my teeth." He enthused.

"Beneath my teeth?" I puzzled in the elevator as I fussed with my outfit. Nazz wanted the whole enchilada, so I looked like I had just stepped out of The Matrix. Except I could not afford the leather stuff. I was in the patent leather stage of my career. I wore a long over coat that cloaked me, at a glance,in respectability.

Nazz answered the door in a white silk robe. Yes, a white silk robe. He looked like a Calvin Klein model. We smiled. I think I even gasped. He stepped backwards while gesturing into the candle lit apartment. I stepped inside, shrugging off my coat. I silently held it out & Nazz stepped up smartly to retrieve it.

I looked out the wall of windows that overlooked the city. I could not believe my good fortune.

I turned toward the glowing Nazz. He actually seemed to shimmer. His robe had "slipped" open. I could not help but look down.

"Oh." I said aloud.

Risk V.S Reward

I was still on the couch, when Sebastian came rolling in, rosy & redolent with some fresh encounter no doubt. I love him like a brother, so the mind rebels. We usually skim over such adventures.

"Why so sad, fag hag?" He asked dropping onto the leather couch.

"Why so glum chum? What's the plan Stan..."

"All right, all right". I interrupted him irritably.

"Tell me me all your troubles. I'll tell you mine." Said Sebastian, mock earnestly.

"I don't think I'm very good at this Domme thing." I blurted.

"Did Gordon tell you that, or a client? By the way, what happened? That's right! How did the appointment go? Not so good?"

I shook my head miserably.

"Not so good. " I started at the beginning. By the end, I was warming to my story, playing off of Sebastan's reaction which was one of unrestrained hilarity.

"Beware of any endeavor that involves new clothes, or something like that." Answered Seb sagely.

"So, thats it? That is the feedback that you are offering me? I didn't pay for any of my outfits. Gordon set me up in that regard. Anyway that is not the point."

"What is? That you are afraid you are getting older? You are. Embrace it because unless you can afford cosmetic surgery you better make the acquaintance of your inner crone. But you look great!" He finished brightly.

"Actually that was NOT my point you flaming asshole. My point is can I really do this & make money. Do I have it in me to do this? It's just so weird..yet potentially lucrative." I shrugged, grimacing, feeling my mud mask cracking as I did so.

"Do I really look great?" I asked meekly.

"Oh yes. Absolutely. Ava, you are only 36 & you are sexy as hell. Even I know that. You make 36 work for you as you will every age. We were both blessed with good genetics."

"Yeah. Thanks. I noticed you managed to slip yourself into that sentence. But the fact is Seb, if that appointment had gone as planned, I would have had half my rent paid. For an hours worth of play acting in a luxury hotel suite, frolicking around in lace panties & throwing out idle threats & no sex? I mean what's the down side?"

"Beats me. Hey, get it? Beats me!" Seb chuckled wildly as he bent down to slip off his boots. He sat back up, thoughtfully palming an old & shriveled grape that had rolled under the couch. I waited for a remark of disdain, but instead he said "Ava I think you should do it. Balls to the wall. You have a strong corporate & entrepreneurial back ground to bring to this. Study the psychology, the lingo & the process. Approach it as you would any other venture capital opportunity. Market yourself right & with Gordon's help & connections...well oddly enough I see a future here. Make a business plan with goals, get a great web page & build a clientele. Build a dungeon & they will come crawling." I laughed & felt a chunk of clay dislodge itself from my face. It fell onto Seb's lap where he flicked it off absently & continued talking.

"There would be no overhead & you are not even paying for the cell phone. Even if it does not end up being a career, it will certainly see you thru until you land a more conventional job. With benefits." He was rolling the grape gently between his fingers as he spoke. "You have the confidence & if these guys want the psychological engagement & stimulation, you can provide that. AND you are easy on the eyes. Fuck it. I say go for it."

"Really? You think so? You do have some good points. None of which I haven't already considered... Since I can't find a roommate, maybe I can make that back room into a cell."

"Ah yes. Just what every Domme needs. A cell of her own."

"Or a hell of my own making. This could be dangerous. But I have to admit it's all very intriguing. I'll never make any real money working for someone else. I think you might be right. But what about what happened tonight? That was just awful."

"That was a fluke. That will never happen again. Disasters always happen when a person tries something new. That is why people are so afraid of change, right? They don't want an audience to witness their failure. I think you did the right thing by the way, regarding not taking that money. I bet he thought so to. Keep applying common sense & honorable business practices like you have always done & make it happen. Create the myth."

I nodded.

"Create the myth." I repeated

"I'm going to take a shower. I really need one" Seb leered as he unfolded his patrician self from my couch.

"Please." I held up my hand & turned my head away.

"Oh please. Like you are so particular. This grape is so old, we could make wine from it. Disgusting." He flung it at my head as he moved toward the bathroom, where it splattered against the wall. I left it there.

I was thinking.

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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