With all that in mind, my own flirtation with paid-for fun and games simply made me think that it was about time that I sorted out my own, unimpressive, love-life once and for all. As you’ll have realised by now, my track record with men wasn’t great. I was into my thirties with two disastrous and lengthy relationships behind me; both of them with total losers. Although I’d have been too modest to say it at the time, it was clear that neither man had been remotely as intelligent as me and neither had been worldly-wise or sophisticated enough to open my eyes to all the cultural and intellectual treats that London had to offer. Even more worrying, neither of them had ever been great shakes between the sheets and each had soon lost all desire to keep me sexually satisfied. I’d devoted myself to building up my business with barely an evening off in years and both of my partners had been perfect couch potatoes. I had always wanted to live life more fully. I wanted to go into town for fun nights-out, I wanted to go out for meals and I wanted to travel. My former partners hadn’t been interested in that at all. My last boyfriend had particularly firm views on the subject: ‘If the telly’s on and there’s beer in the fridge, why would I want to go out?’ He was fat and lazy and rejected any suggestion that London might be interesting: ‘Why do I need to go into London? I don’t want to go into London.’
Although I criticise the guys, I am aware that I’m not entirely blameless here. People have asked me why I didn’t go out and do things with girlfriends. Why didn’t I go out on my own to experience all that our capital city has to offer? The answer is that sometimes it was hard to give up the money. When the choice is a night out in town on your own, or earning £1000 with a client, I too often came down on the side of the cash. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. The truth is that I had nobody but myself to blame. I’d been content to lazily slip into each train-wreck of a relationship simply because that was easier than finding a suitable man. What on earth had I been thinking of? I determined that the next guy would be different. If I could recruit the perfect escort with a little effort and internet research, then surely I could find my perfect, long-term partner in just the same way?
Several weeks went by before I put my dating plan into action. Then one day I thought, ‘Right, now is the time for me to find someone new.’ But I was facing the problem that faces a lot of single women every day. Where the hell do you go looking for a man? I hardly drank at the time and the only place you would ever find me, if I wasn’t at work, was in training in the gym. Even then, although I was always trying to keep my body in shape for work, that would only be for an hour each evening. It’s also not the best meeting place. So where do you meet people? I honestly don’t know. So I thought, ‘Bugger it; I’m going to start looking on the internet.’ That, of course, created a new dilemma. If I logged-on to straight internet dating sites, and was in any way honest about myself, then ‘normal’ men were going to think I was some kind of nutter. If on the other hand I used fetish sites and mentioned what my job was, then I’d be inundated with wanna-be slaves. I didn’t quite know what to do.
The other worry was that my former boyfriend was still sleeping downstairs in my house. I think he had a vague hope that if he stuck around for long enough then we might get back together again. Now I told him in the clearest possible terms: ‘I’m looking for another man, we’re finished, it’s all over, this is an ex-relationship. You have to go, right now. It’s my house and you have to leave.’ At long last he finally took my subtle hints and left. The way was clear for finding the perfect replacement. I joined a website called Alt.com which described itself as being for the BDSM alternative community and which had a dating section allowing you to put up messages seeking new friendships. I didn’t mention that I was a professional dominatrix, but I did make it clear that I was very much a dominant woman, hoping to meet a submissive man.
After a few false starts, one man started writing regularly. Tony’s emails were flirty and fun and he seemed to be an intelligent guy. When I saw his picture I realised he was also good-looking and had a great body. Although I was being ultra-cautious, I did slowly grow more and more interested. I began to look forward to his messages each day. We wrote to each other a lot, discussing the fetishes which had drawn us to this alternative website in the first place. I was careful to play it cool, really cool, and so after my original contact I let him do all of the chasing. He would email or text a message and I would reply – but I was never the one who instigated the next call. Soon we were sending emails backwards and forwards: he was discussing what he liked and we were creating various fantasy scenes and writing stories to titillate each other. I remember once I sent him a text message describing how I was sitting at my desk and wishing that he was kneeling on the floor in front of me. I went on to tell him precisely how I was going to bury his head between my legs and use his tongue for my pleasure. Tony’s heartfelt reply made me giggle: ‘I am standing in Waterstones with a hard-on. NOT good.’ Actually, after months of living like a nun, that sounded pretty good to me.
This was an experience I had never had before. It may have been courtship by emails and texts, rather than face-to-face contact, but for the first time in my life I was actually being wooed by a man. Previously, I’d always jumped into relationships as a matter of convenience. I’d never made men work hard to catch me; I’d fallen into their laps with little effort on their part. Now, I had a man trying hard to impress me; a man who really wanted to be with me. I can’t even remember at what stage of our internet friendship I told Tony I was a professional dominatrix but I do remember that it didn’t worry him at all. My new friend was open and honest with me and told me that he didn’t have much experience. He said that he’d dabbled in BDSM games with a former lover but hadn’t explored it as deeply as he wished. There were a lot of specific things he wanted to try. Between us we would craft elaborate scenarios and fantasies which I knew were exciting him. I was enjoying myself immensely as the emails flew back and forth, with each of us teasing the other about what would one day happen between us. By now I was sure that I wanted to meet him in person but there was to be yet a further delay. I’d recently had surgery on my knee and I thought, ‘I can’t arrange a meeting with this really fit guy, and then turn up hobbling around on a bad knee. I’ve got to be patient and wait.’
Eventually, a few weeks after Christmas, I agreed to a meeting. We both knew by then that this would end up in the bedroom and I’d already picked a local hotel. I hope you’ll excuse me if this is one sexual encounter about which I don’t go into all of the naughty details. This one was just too personally special to share. Suffice it to say that his body was amazing and his mind was even better. We clicked immediately and couldn’t stop talking, even though we were both desperate to get to the room and start exploring those wild sexual fantasies we’d talked about for months. When we did finally end up in bed, the sex was mind-blowingly good for both of us. By the end of the night I knew two things: I wanted this man in my life… and the last thing I was going to do was let him know that.
I was pretty sure that Tony was as smitten with me as I, secretly, was with him. The number of texts and emails he sent me in the days that followed seemed to confirm that. ‘I had such a great time… you’re wonderful… when are we meeting again?’ he asked, over and over again. Being the cruel Mistress that I am, it was easy for me to simply ignore every mention of a future meeting. Instead, I would email him back, chatting away as though nothing had happened and just being sexy and friendly and fun. ‘Yes, but when are we going to meet up again,’ he demanded with ever-increasing urgency. I could tell I was driving him crazy but was determined not to let him think that he’d impressed me in the way that he actually had. I did, after all, have vast experience of teasing men and keeping them strictly in their place. I kept him dangling for weeks. Finally he reached his breaking point. ‘Okay,’ he wrote, ‘I’ll leave it with you. I can see you aren’t keen to meet up again, I’ll leave the ball in your court.’
‘Oh well,’ I replied ‘how abou
t Wednesday next week?’
Even then I was being somewhat cruel to the poor guy. I knew that he worked in central London and that his job meant waking up ridiculously early on weekdays. It would have been so much easier for him to see me at the weekend, but I didn’t want to make this easy. As I’d hoped, he didn’t even argue: ‘No problem, Wednesday it is then, definitely, definitely.’
From then onwards the relationship blossomed. We were meeting a couple of times a week and having fantastic, amazing, mind-blowing sex. I knew that I’d met someone very special. After years of living with losers, Tony was on a par with me and I was overwhelmed with sexual attraction towards him. It was so good to meet a man with a like-mind to me. The great body and the fact that he was very well hung were a bonus – most definitely a bonus. He was still working in town and, for the first time I was being taken out properly on dates and exploring the city in which I’d lived for all of my life. There was a memorable evening a few weeks into our relationship when he took me out to a top-class, Michelin-starred restaurant. It was something my former partners would never have dreamt of doing for me. I felt I was truly in a genuine relationship, being wooed in a way that all girls should be wooed. I realised how much of life I’d been missing up until then. Tony was showing me how a relationship should start, if it means to go on.
In the bedroom too, our new life together was a revelation. For the first time I felt that I was fully exploring my own sexuality, discovering pleasures that I had never experienced before. I know that probably sounds odd to your ears, because I had been sessioning for years and exploring a myriad of wonderfully kinky things in my working life. The truth was that I had been fulfilling everyone else’s fantasies and dreams but never having my own fully explored or fully met. I had always got a sexual kick out of my work but never the sort of sexual excitement and enjoyment that my relationship with Tony was now providing in full. Even more importantly, I felt I had met my soulmate; not only for the support and companion-ship he was giving me but also because he was ticking all the boxes that previously had been missing from my life. Tony made me a whole person and made me very happy. We’ve since been together for more than five years and we now work together as well, building my businesses in a way I could never have done on my own.
Some long while after our friendship had turned into love and our lives had become inextricably intertwined, I mentioned to Tony that I missed the sexy emails and texts that he once used to send me. ‘They were my wildest dreams and fantasies,’ he told me. ‘Why do I need fantasies anymore? I’ve got the real thing.’
A short while ago, Tony and I got engaged. My grandfather always said that his dearest wish was to walk me down the aisle but until I met my current partner I had no intention of doing that. I’d always thought: ‘What a shame that Granddad’s never going to get his wish – but marriage isn’t for me.’ My grandfather is long gone now of course and I miss him every day. But it may not be a bad thing that he won’t be at my wedding because I have some very specific ideas as to how it might be. It will be a ceremony fit for a dominatrix princess. To hell with a virgin-white dress; everyone else can wear white. I’m planning on wearing a kinky, blue latex creation that will blow my husband’s mind. In my head, my idea of marriage is dragging my man, kicking and screaming, into my cells. Then, after the slave auction is over, the half-a-dozen hunky, well-hung, ‘best men’ can have my full attention.
I have many flights of fancy like this – on an hourly basis. Please don’t tell my fiancé!
CHAPTER 27
A STAR OF STAGE AND SCREEN
Finding my soulmate has benefitted not only my social life but also my business career. I’ve long had a presence on the web, but it was a bonus to discover that my partner Tony was an experienced IT consultant and could revolutionise the websites which were becoming more and more important for my company. With his help I’ve expanded both my private members’ club site and have boosted the sales of my films across various internet platforms. Together we’ve opened up a whole new world of international business. Our latest venture has seen us launch a new film-clips site, hosting films that have been produced not just by my production company but by other dominatrices both here and in Europe.
I’m constantly amazed by how comfortable I feel when performing in front of the camera. At school, speaking in front of a crowd would have been anathema to me. I never wanted to be singled-out; I felt uncomfortable hearing my own voice and having others listen to me. Even reading out loud in class made me wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. None of that was because I couldn’t read well but because others were hearing my voice. When it came to school plays I would seek out the most insignificant one-line roles, although even then my nerves would overcome me and ensure that I would fluff my one tiny line. The fact that I was so retiring is one of the reasons why my spelling remains poor to this day; I was too shy to ever draw attention to myself by even asking for help in spelling difficult words. So, how odd is it now that once the camera starts rolling I can chat away for England? Part of it is that I am usually talking about a subject dear to my heart – bondage, domination and the humiliation of my ever-willing slaves. A filming day is a fun mix of sex, naughtiness, laughter, a lot of stress and what I like to believe is organised chaos. My office, normally my haven of peace and quiet to which I can escape for a moment during a busy day of mistreating multiple clients, becomes a dressing-room, make-up salon and film crew canteen all rolled into one. Were you a fly on the wall, you would see some interesting sights.
I can often be found half-naked in the middle of an essential costume change; there may be other beautiful Mistresses or petite slavegirls in a similar state of dishabille. My cameraman will stroll through us all seeking batteries or tripods, and a trusted ‘owned’ slave will be satisfying my constant demand for more coffee. The doorbell will chime as volunteer slaves turn up for filming sessions, telephones will ring with new clients seeking appointments and in the dungeon outside other actors will be struggling into tight leather pants or shiny rubber body bags. It may appear at first that all is confusion, but that is not the case. I rule over my empire with a rod of iron; woe-betide those who mess up my schedule for the day. Filming is a demanding and expensive business.
Even on non-filming days my dungeon will be busy with a succession of clients arriving at regular intervals throughout the day and there’s always a ton of cleaning, sterilising and tidying up to do between each appointment. Each of my rooms is thoroughly cleaned after each appointment and I will need to ensure that the correct equipment is in place, and instantly to hand, to give my next client precisely the service that he or she may require. On top of all that, my business, like any other commercial concern, runs on paperwork: invoices to be prepared, supplies to be ordered, financial records to be kept and a master diary of all of the daily activities to be maintained. Peculiarly to an adult business such as mine, the confidentiality of my clients is all-important. For that reason, my financial and tax papers record no names whatsoever. All of my clients are known to me via a series of unidentifiable code words or nicknames.
One of the major changes that my partner has helped me institute within the business has been the concept of longer-term strategic thinking. Because of the way I drifted into my work as a dominatrix, planning for the future was never a strong point. That was partly a factor of operating on the fringes of society, never quite knowing if my premises would be shut down or what the future might hold. I was also working on my own, with nobody I trusted to help focus ideas. It’s just in my nature to be always full of dreams and always wanting to be busy. Many years ago a friend coined the nickname ‘Whirlwind’ for me. ‘You’ve always got five things in your head at once,’ he said. ‘Slow down, slow down.’ On the positive side, I do have some notable business strengths: I’m always on the ball with answering emails and telephone calls, I’m never late for my sessions and I’m pretty good at scheduling, not over-lapping appointments and avoiding gene
ral cock-ups. I think I’ve done OK.
I’m sometimes asked what advice I would give to any woman wanting to emulate me and start up as an aspiring young dominatrix. There’s only one answer, which is to get yourself £50,000 in the bank first, because you’ll need the equipment. There are plenty of competing Mistresses out there who seek to offer specialties such as corporal punishment, foot worship, face-sitting or whatever, and who think the only equipment they need is a cane or some thigh-boots. The problem is that men will visit them once and never return. If you aren’t prepared to put in the investment to do the job properly, men soon realise you are not seriously interested in the game and will look elsewhere for those who are. My own deliciously-equipped premises have been furnished and crafted over many years. I pride myself on having equipment most men can only dream of, but I’m always seeking more. Every international film trip now has to include a visit to the local fetish equipment suppliers; I’m still a sucker for anything new.
That desire for novelty has led me to search for new and exciting film locations and for contacts in the adult film industry. I make frequent visits to various European cities – Berlin, Frankfurt, Amsterdam, Madrid and so on – to meet and film with other dominatrices. Each girl and each location brings a flavour of the kinks of her own country and culture; I rarely return from such visits without a new idea to incorporate into my own play back in London.
One market, the biggest of them all, has proved a tougher nut to crack. Ever since I was a little girl I had always been fascinated by the sights and the sounds of America. My little girl fantasy figure of Madonna and the American life I saw on television all made me want to be there. One of the few regrets in my working life had been turning down the chance to work in California many years ago. However much I would have loved to work there, it would have been too big a leap at the time. The USA adult film market was dominated by close-knit BDSM communities and by the few major companies. My approaches to some of the major film companies had never been successful. Now I was trying again. Hollywood was calling. I had to answer that call.
Fifty Shades of Domination - My True Story Page 21