I met Sherry many years ago through a mutual friend in the BDSM scene who knew what I did for a living. On several occasions I’d mentioned to her my need for a submissive girl and asked her to pass on my number to anyone who might be interested in working with me. The result was a meeting with Sherry, then a petite young student with whom I immediately struck up a firm friendship that has lasted till this day. We found we had a lot in common: she was at university and seeking work in the ‘adult’ world to fund her studies and was thinking of taking a job in a brothel. Sherry enjoys sex, enjoys meeting new men and has the most delightful, calm and pleasing manner imaginable. She hadn’t found the escort work she wanted but was clearly keen to get started. She was highly intelligent but, although she was studying for a law degree, I immediately thought that the description ‘ditzy’ would fit her to perfection. Sherry made it clear that she would be only too happy to audition for a new role as a slavegirl in my fast-growing business. Even as we spoke I had the ideal client in mind to introduce her to my world. He was a regular visitor who loved the idea of being sexually teased and repeatedly denied. As I have never allowed any sexual contact between the clients and myself, I needed a willing girl to drive him crazy with her body before I introduced an element of discipline and denial into the proceedings. On his next visit, I made his dreams come true and took him to visit Sherry in a hotel room nearby.
Ideally from my point of view, both the client and Sherry were happy to be filmed at play, and so the room got a little more crowded as my cameraman was added into the mix. I don’t think either the guy or Sherry even noticed the camera as she threw herself into the role of sexy siren to drive his frustration levels through the roof. She touched him, let him touch her breasts and pussy, and even decided she should sit on his face to give him a taste of her feminine charms. Every time I thought he was having a little bit too much fun and that he might lose control and prematurely bring proceedings to a halt, I was on hand to ensure that a little pain brought him back down to earth with a bump. I could see immediately that Sherry was a natural and the perfect submissive bundle to add into my operation. She was friendly, fun and sexy; she was most definitely not into receiving serious pain herself, but was totally happy to sit on a client’s face without her knickers on – a regular request from many of my customers who know they’ll never get that service from me.
Sherry was, in fact, everything I could have desired. Most importantly, she had not been doing this kind of work for long and was not in the slightest bit jaded. She was a real bundle of laughs, and really got into the role play. She and I hit it off straightaway and agreed then and there to make another film or two together in my chambers. A week or so later, Sherry turned up at my door, ready to become a star of the silver screen as I introduced her to all of the wonders of room after room of bondage and domination equipment. Sherry admitted that she was kinky in the extreme and enjoyed the whole idea of bondage, so seeing my equipment was a mega eye-opener for her. She just went around saying, ‘Wow, I can’t believe this, look at this stuff, oh my God.’ She was just completely overwhelmed and interested and excited and titillated and with a genuine desire to know more.
Sherry came in for a session with the same client she’d already met and we produced a film entitled Sherry Trifle. Okay, perhaps not the most imaginative title in the film lexicon, but it made me laugh. I laid her down naked, strapped her to the bondage bench and let him cover her with fruit, cream and other messy foodstuffs. In retrospect I should perhaps have taken the jug of custard out of the fridge before we poured it onto her body, but at least it woke her up. The deal was that he then got to eat all the food from this unique human plate – and he did find plenty of places to put soft fruit and a banana. I can’t imagine why he found that enjoyable… Personally I would just have scoffed down the food without bothering with the sexual arousal – but then I am always hungry and even the lovely Sherry can’t turn me on to personal play with women.
Watching the film back recently on my archive site, I was struck by just how much Sherry enjoyed its production. Despite being covered in cold custard, chocolate buttons and cherries – or more likely because she was covered in cold custard, chocolate buttons and cherries – she giggled her way through the entire event, and still managed to look, sound and feel sexy. The film reached a climax, literally, when the client got so excited that I decided a little cooling off was required. I positioned myself strategically over his face and poured out a flood of my highly-personal house champagne over him and my slavegirl. As he reached his damp, warm watersport climax I glanced down at Sherry to find her touching her vagina and still stroking his cock to expertly milk out his pleasure. Sherry was still smiling; I knew that a star was born. This girl was a natural.
Soon after that I introduced my new slavegirl to the delights of her own bondage session. This time I tested out the limits of Sherry’s own submission. I discovered that she, like many of my male slaves, gets her own sexual kick from doing all that she can to please me. She was not really into severe pain but loved me putting her in bondage and being masterful to make her accept whatever suffering I wanted to impose. I was relatively kind but still clamped her nipples tightly enough to make her squeal, applied some stinging electrics and spanked her pert little behind to a satisfying, rosy glow.
Ever since then, Sherry has proved to be a firm favourite with my clients, despite her cheeky habit of trying to get her fellow slaves into trouble whenever I’m not paying attention. Many a client has found himself being punished by me because Sherry has been naughty behind my back and playfully blamed it on him. Caveat Emptor: clients who purchase her services will find their nipples will be fair game to be squeezed as soon as I’m out of the room and they will find themselves accused of naughtiness they knew nothing about. Not, of course, that pleas of innocence of any crime will cut any ice with me if Sherry complains. They’ll still be punished. I don’t allow my clients to give orders to Sherry, she is only submissive to me; but there’s little she won’t do if I order her obedience.
In fact, it has become obvious over the years that Sherry enjoys the sessions almost as much as do my clients. Her orgasms are never faked; sometimes a bit noisy and with a tad too much squealing for my own tastes, but never faked. And she shows a delightful acceptance of any situation in which I might put her. I remember on one occasion stripping both her and one of my male slaves butt-naked and forcing them together into an all-enveloping, rubber body bag. I zipped up the bag so that they were immovably pressed against each other within the tight and dark confines of the heavy latex covering. It was a situation that many would have found claustrophobic and distressing but when I felt they had suffered enough and unzipped the rubber package I found that Sherry had simply drifted off to sleep. She had experienced and shared the ‘floaty’ pleasure that so many of my men get from tight rubber bondage.
There has been just one area of my bondage Mistress activities where Sherry has so far failed to shine. In recent times I’ve encouraged her try being a dominant herself, letting her act as my assistant in some scenes. It’s not been an easy task to draw out the dominant side of her personality. On one occasion I dressed her in a rubber catsuit and instructed her to ‘look mean’. She instantly took on the appearance of a lost little lamb: ‘I just don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do,’ she pleaded. The photographer whom I had hired especially was laughing so much that the shoot was a disaster. Perhaps one is either born to be a bondage Mistress, or not.
Our friendship has spread beyond the workplace into our personal lives, although the age gap between us means that out shared love of fine food is one of our few common interests outside of the dungeon. We have, however, grown closer from taking several filming trips abroad together and from being booked by one regular client to stay together with him in a luxury hotel on the continent. The overnight trip always follows a similar pattern: he enjoys both Sherry and I accompanying him for dinner and then loves watching as I abuse her body i
n his hotel room afterwards. I should confess that I can, on occasions, be mean to poor Sherry. There have been times when she’s had a cock-gag strapped into her mouth and been tied too close for comfort to a man’s body, and other occasions when the electrics may have been turned up a little higher than she deserved – all totally accidentally on my part, of course. I would never just pick up a cane and give her the sort of treatment that I might give a man but perhaps a flogging might take her to her limits or the nipple clamps will be a little harsher than usual.
Sherry is but one of a group of several slavegirls, some of them professional submissives and some of them keen amateur masochists, who work with me on a regular basis. More frequently, however, you are likely to find me playing host to a visiting dominatrix from elsewhere in the UK, from Europe or even over on a tour from the USA. Playing with two Mistresses and one hapless slave can be the greatest fun and I’m always delighted to both learn from other girls and give them the benefit of my own particular techniques to keep my slaves in their place. I find that a whole range of games including boot-worship, strap-on training and just generally trying to confuse the easily-confused male slave brain, all work well with one of my desirable female friends coming along to help me. There is something particularly demeaning and degrading for a slave when he is forced into some humiliating ritual, such as cleaning his Mistress’s boots with his tongue, when that activity is demanded in front of two domes together. It also opens up all sorts of other games, such as ‘spit-roasting’ a man with strap-on cocks thrusting simultaneously into his rear and deep down his throat. I pride myself on training my few, very lucky, owned slaves to do whatever I may require of them. These are men who have devoted themselves to my service and who have amused me enough to become my property to hurt and abuse whenever and however I wish. ‘However humiliating, however degrading’ is their much-practised mantra and sometimes it is fun to be able to show off the depths of their training to an appreciative female colleague.
Many of my double-domme sessions provide an added dose of public humiliation for the most fortunate of my slaves. They are filmed for far wider exposure, both on my own websites and on various international clip-sales sites that spread my images around the world. I take a lot of care in writing and planning my film scripts to create a realistic, sexy and entertaining scenario that best shows off my own domination skills, and those of the other dommes.
The first filming session I did with another Mistress, many years ago now, was a memorable day. I had taken my film crew to the London dungeon of ‘Mistress Strap-on’ who, as her name would suggest, specialised in some of the most extreme forms of anal play for her enthusiastic submissives. Waiting for us both in the dungeon, already naked and in bondage, was one of her most loyal slaves. The behind-the-scenes atmosphere on a film set is always friendly and I introduced myself to the tightly bound slave and briefly discussed the scenes we were about to produce. He was a charming man, urbane, cultured and very much looking forward to the experience. I leaned over him, chatting amicably for some minutes, as the crew busied themselves arranging camera-angles and lights; then we all switched instantly from friendly to professional. Within moments my chatty demeanour had vanished, to be replaced by my sternest voice and the filthiest insults I could muster as I castigated the wretch for some imagined misdemeanour and left him in no doubt as to what his punishment would be.
Mistress Strap-on set about living up to her name by penetrating the business end of his body with a massive rubber dildo attached to a leather harness around her waist. In the meantime I was pinching, pulling and stretching his nipples to make him moan for the camera. It was slightly surreal, tormenting this man with whom, just a minute or two earlier, I’d been passing the time of day, but that’s entertainment for you. He couldn’t speak to me any longer anyway because of the gag pumped up tightly between his lips. We all quickly forgot that the camera was there and had a session which we all enjoyed. Well, actually, I’m not quite so sure about our victim. In the middle of the session, Mistress Strap-on told me that her slave had a particular kink which she loved to indulge. ‘He likes me to slowly insert a large dildo deep into his rear,’ she said, ‘and then wants me to pull it out again – as quickly as I can – like this.’ Since she was demonstrating her technique whilst she was explaining it, her last few words were almost drowned out by an agonising scream bursting out from underneath her tied-up slave’s gag. ‘Oh, oops,’ she announced, with a shocked look on her face. ‘I’ve got the wrong slave; this one doesn’t like that at all.’
Another Mistress and I did slightly less harm to our slaves on another recent double-domme shoot in Birmingham. I was working with one of my favourite people, the delightful Mistress Rouge, and we filmed for a whole afternoon on a purpose-designed film set which included an entire schoolroom, complete with desks, blackboards and even a separate headmaster’s office to deal with the most unruly pupils. Having been at the receiving end of a few telling-offs from teachers in my time, it was a delight to turn the tables and dish out the punishments to a select group of submissive pupils. We’d dressed up a couple of the ‘boys’ as schoolgirls, complete with pigtail wigs and it was good to see how everybody went along with the filmed role-play, competing to be the naughtiest and therefore the first to be sent the headmistress’s office for a severe caning. At the front of the class, perched slightly inelegantly on a desk, sat Mistress Rouge and I. I thought we looked the part with our long schoolteacher’s gowns and tight black skirts; although perhaps we shouldn’t have shown the boys and girls quite so much of our sheer-stocking-clad legs. It was almost as though we meant to tease them!
CHAPTER 26
TRUE LOVE… AT LAST
My experience of hiring a male escort and the fun of sublime sex with him, made me realise how much I was missing real passion in my life.
I’ve no doubt that I excited my paid-for handsome young partner that night in the hotel bedroom – and the naughtiness of the situation and his hunky body certainly excited me. Despite my earlier doubts, I didn’t have the slightest regret about what I’d chosen to do in order to relieve my sexual frustration. In fact, I had to give myself a serious talking-to in order to resist the temptation to do it all over again a few days later. I can be a greedy girl when the mood takes me.
Nevertheless, there’s a world of difference between the forced passion of commercial sex and the heart-warming satisfaction that comes from making love to a much-desired, real-life partner. It is a difference I’m aware of in my day-to-day working life, fulfilling the BDSM fantasies of men, women and couples who are all seeking a form of sexual excitement that they cannot easily find elsewhere. Men profess to love me all of the time. In the throes of sexual excitement, when I have stretched and tormented and bullied their bodies into climactic submission, their emotions can run away with their minds and they’ll gasp out their adoration for me. ‘I love you Mistress; thank you Mistress; thank you… please hurt me again’ are phrases I hear all the time. The trick is for neither them, nor me, to take it too seriously. I call it ‘mind-fucking’ my clients, leading them by the hand into what some term ‘sub-space’, a slightly altered consciousness where nothing matters for that moment other than the pleasure and excitement flooding their system. That’s when they will love me… for a while. Once their lust has been satiated and their minds recover then they want to get off home to normal life and to their much-loved wives and families.
There are a few rare exceptions to the rule: the one or two men who do fall genuinely, head-over-heels in love with me and become addicted to my company, however much I hurt or mis-treat them. To be fair, I do always try to warn them when I recognise the early symptoms of Miranda-addiction.
‘Be careful slave, you’re going to get hurt,’ I tell them. ‘Keep on seeing me and I’ll fuck your mind to the point where you won’t be able to stop. Are you sure you want to do this?’
On the rarest of occasions I will have to nip the addiction in the bud and tell a parti
cularly obsessed fan that my door is no longer open to his visits but, if they’re not too much of a nuisance about it, then I don’t mind men loving me. They’re the only ones in danger: loving me can seriously damage your bank balance.
One client who I’ve known for well over a decade once asked me: ‘What’s it like to be loved by everybody you meet?’
He saw the look of surprise on my face and explained: ‘Don’t you understand, you are our ultimate fantasy woman because we all want to be the one who is under your guidance 24/7; in our fantasy world we all want to be the one you are with.’
I had never really thought about that to be honest. I suppose not many people spend their working day being an adored goddess, which is exactly the term he uses for me; a slightly strange thought, but not at all unpleasant. This particular slave delights in telling people that I’m his religion. In that box on government census form that demands to know your religious affiliations he writes ‘Mirandite’. He is the founder, and one of very few members, of the Mirandite cult; he worships at my feet and it’s no exaggeration to say that his entire life revolves around me. Despite that, I am grounded in reality; I truly am! I know that I’m just like everybody else but that I do attract men who are seeking a woman to put on a pedestal and worship. There is a fetish-magazine publisher I know who complains that some of the Mistresses he deals with get false ideas about their own status in life.
‘Honestly, Miranda, some of them think their shit doesn’t stink,’ he jokes. ‘At least you never fall for your own hype.’
Fifty Shades of Domination - My True Story Page 20