So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

I have been in two minds debating whether to keep going with blogging or not. On one hand, I enjoy writing about my experiences and connecting with people via my blog. However, much in the same way I deleted my personal Facebook account last autumn due to reasons of discretion and privacy, so too I am beginning to feel that all the really interesting parts of my life just don’t make the editorial cut here.

Like I told the People of Facebook, if you want to know about my life, be in my life. If you think you know me from what you have gleamed via my words on a screen, then that is only a small part of me. There is much more to me and my life that I enjoy sharing with a select circle and here doesn’t feel the place to risk exposing everything I have in order to entertain and amuse others. I am, by nature, a very private person.

I am not retiring from being a Dominant Courtesan but I am retiring from blogging about it. If you want to connect with me, here is the place to do it: Olivia Fitzgerald or email me directly at oliviafitzgerald@hushmail.com.


Much love,


Miss Fitzgerald


Courtesan, Travel

Caribbean Queen

Coming home is always a bittersweet affair; happy to be returning to my beloved city but sorry to leave an island I have come to know and love. Last year, I spent a week there with a gent after having already visited once and loved it, this time I had the opportunity to introduce a different gent to the joys of life there.

I’m feeling in a pensive mood now that I am back. I am asking myself lots of questions and coming up with more questions than answers at this stage. I am also still a little jet-lagged still and my ability to string a sentence together is somewhat challenged so I’ll refrain from saying any more.

Of course, you’re curious as to what we got up to out there. I’m sure you are. Nosey nosey!



Thank goodness for Virgin Upper.

Thank goodness for Virgin Upper.

Courtisanerie, London Mistress, Uncategorized

So, do you want to sleep in my room?

The rare privilege of being allowed to sleep in my boudoir does not come without its own special caveat- that you’ll be sleeping in the cage I keep at the bottom of my bed. It’s been looking strangely empty recently.

Sometimes, at night as I lay in bed,  I fantasise about a burglar breaking into my home, not realising that he really has picked the wrong house until he is greeted by a woman in silk La Perla lingerie with a Spyderco knife in one hand and a whip in the other. After a couple of swift takedown moves, I wrestle him into my cage and triumphantly lock him in.

Well, hello my pet. Are you comfortable in there? Yes? Oh dear, let me fix that for you.

Well, hello my pet. Are you comfortable in there? Yes? Oh dear, let me fix that for you.

From thence I fall into a blissful slumber.

Of course, the reality of being locked in a cage at the bottom of my bed should positively fill a gent with excitement: being able to hear the sound of my soft breathing as I fall asleep, catching my shadowed figure moving under rustled sheets and glimpses of naked flesh luminescent in the moonlight. Or, I may put him in a leather hood so that he can only hear the sound of me masturbating but denied the pleasure of that sight.

This is all yet to be decided. When I offered that he could stay over, I’m not sure this is what he had in mind. Word to the wise: next time check the small print before you say yes to sleepover at mine.

Be comforted by the thought that I have decided to keep you safe and close to me, where I can watch you, lucky you. Let’s just hope that I decide to let you out again…


Art, Uncategorized

Venus in Furs

If you’re not familiar with the stage play, then this post may contain some spoilers for the film should you wish to see it.

I rarely go to the cinema, mostly because it is rare that I find something I am willing to sit still throughout for any sustained period of time outside of the theatre or opera which, by their immediate nature I find to be entirely different. Besides which, they have intervals. Sometimes more than one. Indeed, what happened to intervals in the cinema? And why are people eating in the theatre like it’s the cinema? Sometimes, I really don’t understand our topsy-turvy world.

However, back on subject… the other evening, upon my suggestion, I went with one of my French friends to see ‘Venus in Furs’ by Roman Polanski. Thankfully, Polanski’s Vénus à la Forrure is not a faithful interpretation of the Leopold von Sacher-Masoch* novella Venus im Pelz but a faithful interpretation of David Ive’s stage play.



Emmanuelle Seigner (Polanski’s wife, no less) and Mathieu Amalric.

Mathieu Amalric’s character, Thomas, as the director and playwright begins as the one calling the shots, directing the action but as Vanda seduces and manipulates him, he becomes the actor, the puppet under her direction. Throughout her audition, she transforms from brash and gauche actress to steely Dominatrix.

Vanda challenges the sexist attitudes of various aspects of Thomas’s and Masoch’s view of women. Yet, similarly, she is in various states of undress from black lingerie to black leather corset and mini skirt, objectified for Thomas’s consumption as she alternates between auditioning for the role of Vanda (auditioning for the role of herself?) and seducing him through his own desire.

Interestingly, at the beginning she is wearing a studded dog collar but part-way through removes it from her own neck and places it around the neck of Thomas. It is here that the erotic power play begins in earnest.

It is only at the end that there is a sense of freedom from the various masks and façades that Vanda wears and uses. I was left wondering, like many people I’m sure, who she was underneath it all and what about her was real, and what was for show. There are no clear answers or suggestions for either character and each answer in the film reveals yet another question, just as I like it. It strips, reveals, teases and taunts just as much as Emmanuelle Seigner’s Vanda does.

If you’re hoping to indulge a fur fetish in this film, be warned that Polanski has obeyed by the unwritten rules of keeping the moneyshot at the end. Even then, it is very much a brief tease of Vanda wrapped yet naked in fur, dancing, seemingly finally liberated with Thomas captive. Not necessarily her captive, but a captive of his own passions and lust at the very least.

For boot and leather fetishists, there is a wonderfully slow and seductive close-up scene of Thomas zipping up Vanda’s thigh high boots, the drawn out sound of the zipper mirroring the electric tingle of excitement.

Overall, FemDom triumphs in Polanksi/Ive’s version, compared to the original story and I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed this take on Sacher-Masoch’s story; it was funny, thought-provoking and, at times, quite, quite sexy. I may even sit still for another viewing of it.


*Funnily enough I was at a friend’s birthday lunch at the weekend, and having a conversation with the guest seated next to me about famous Austrian writers. We both struggled to think of anyone beyond Kafka that was well-known outside of Austria. I can’t believe we both missed Sacher-Masoch, given that the person in question is not only my friend’s Domme but she is Austrian to boot. How remiss of us! I will have to remember to tell her when I see her for Kaffee and Kunchen in a couple of weeks.

London Mistress

The Rapture of the Single-Tail Whip

Some time ago I posted this mysterious photo:

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's Dominant baton throwing! Or is it...

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Answer: The handle of a nylon whip.

I am now ready to reveal what that it that was all about….

As an ethical and conscientious Dominant, I see it as my duty to experience myself anything I want to do to any submissive of mine, and so, after being more than curious about the single-tail for a long time, last summer I had the opportunity to experience it for myself from the wonderful DK Leather. *

Photo taken June 2013.

Photo taken June 2013. The things I do for my Art. I healed very quickly but backless dresses were a no-go for a couple of weeks.

The quality of the pain from the single-tail is very different from many things I have experienced before pain-wise. Initially the sensation felt like quick kisses on my back, progressing to quicker and sharper bites across my shoulder blades, nipping at the flesh. Then eventually to a slow, rhythmic pace of lashes like a red hot knife slashing through skin. At some point I remember reminding myself to breathe through the pain (yes, I take my own advice!), thinking that I had another six in me before I would need to safe signal before I possibly passed out. It was just at this point that DK came up behind me and said that it was over and caught me as my legs gave way before carrying me over to a daybed.

Now, I am no stranger to physical pain and transcending that pain to achieve something else. Indeed, I currently have a PT that puts me through my paces on a weekly basis and the rest of the week I get to be my own top and bottom/ sadist and masochist by pushing myself in training sessions by myself.

So, it in many ways, I was looking forward to experiencing the single-tail, knowing that I would come out the other side having gained hard-won experience.  Even my masochistic side is goal-orientated. How very type A of me.

Since then I have spent time practising, learning, finessing my technique. I have had lessons from the lovely Michael Cane, whose teaching style emphasised the enjoyment aspect just as much as the educational aspect. His enthusiasm is infectious and I hope to take some more lessons from him in the future.

I have now progressed from practicing with a 4 foot nylon bullwhip to my own lovely Victor Teller 3 foot signal whip, which I thought would be more useful when travelling as not everywhere has space indoors for a 4 foot whip (sadly). I also thought that the ‘chi’ of the whip would be more easily aligned for a beginner in a signal whip as opposed to a bull whip. So far my instincts have been right.


Well, hello there beautiful...

Well, hello there beautiful…


I know that, for some, the whip is a scary scary thing and that is fine. For some the fear of physical pain is as bad as the pain itself, but there are others (and I will include myself in this) who can relax into pain or push through it, being able to experience not so much the spectrum of pain as an incremental sensation but as qualitatively different tones and colours on an artist’s palette.

For the single-tail, I would suggest that it is bottled under ‘Exquisite Pain’. I have yet to christen my new whip but I look forward to breaking it in on a few backs in the coming months.


*A big thank you goes out to DK. Words are insufficient…

Courtisanerie, News

A True Courtesan

The more argus-eyed among you may have noticed that I have removed from my website the pages for Immersion and Travel experiences, only offering Lifestyle Arrangements as the means to engage with me. The reason for this is two-fold.

Firstly, I am currently in the process of setting up a vanilla business, one that I did not necessarily intend to start but the idea behind it has been slowly gnawing away at my mind to the point where I had to find a way to make it work somehow. Curiosity and my love of a challenge in life got the better of me in the end.

So, in addition to the fact that I already enjoy being under the radar as a Mistress on a point of privacy, so too do I hope to keep these two separate lives very much separate. A sentiment I’m sure many gents out there will understand completely.

Secondly, as much as I appreciate that not everyone is in a position to see me weekly, I do believe that with proper communication and understanding on both parts, so long as a gent has the fundamental fiscal means and a sincere desire, then there is an arrangement to suit most people’s individual needs.

The occasional pay-per-play structure has felt at times less relational and more transactional and after all, I am looking to create D/s relationships with those I see.

Lastly, it feels more in keeping with how I see myself as a Dominant Courtesan: only seeing a select few elite gentlemen for long-term ongoing arrangements. The term ‘courtesan’ is still something I internally struggle with occasionally, very much identifying with the classic courtesan; “La Cortigiana Onesta” but very much wanting to separate myself from the hourly escorts who call themselves ‘courtesans’. In focusing on Lifestyle Arrangements, I feel I have drawn a wider line of separation.

Despite my vanilla business, I do still intend to enjoy myself as a highly-tributed Lifestyle Mistress. I have always engaged as a Dominant Woman because I enjoy doing so, not because I have needed to.

I now am the Director my own companies and not because it is some marketing gimmick as a Domme but because it is the reality of my life. I am an intelligent and capable woman who, in amongst the daily trials and tribulations of running a business, enjoys creating deliciously devious things to do to, and with, her submissives.

Indeed, a few weeks ago, I woke up, stirring from my slumber realising that I was to see a gent all that day and thought to myself ‘Aha! A day off!’.

That is how life should be I think.