London Mistress, Travel, Uncategorized

Fetish Removal

A few months ago I had the most delightful dream about Derren Brown being my submissive. He was naked on his knees before me, his face lit up in a blaze of adoration and saying “I am yours to do with as you wish, Mistress; I will do whatever you tell me to do”. Ah, that was a good dream and sadly one I have yet to get back into via lucid dreaming but it is on my to-list, as it were.

Afterwards, I wondered why I had such a dream and my best armchair shrink guess is that Derren is in such control of not only himself as a mind control illusionist, mentalist and hypnotist but also those he engages with onstage or on television, such that having Derren as my submissive would be quite a coup. After all, I do enjoy playing with men of power.

Just look at that face. There is a definite truth that those who are comfortable with themselves have a certain attractiveness, regardless whether they are classically good looking or not. Personally I'm glad he ditched the 'gay time traveller' look.

Just look at that face. There is a definite truth that those who are comfortable with themselves have a certain attractiveness, regardless whether they are classically good looking or not. Personally I’m glad he ditched the ‘gay time traveller’ look for just being adorably himself.

 

I recently had the chance to see Derren Brown onstage, having a gent take me out to The Countryside (i.e. not London) to see his Infamous show and I watched with vivid interest his techniques, trying to pick apart how he did much of what he did. However, one part was of particular interest: hypnosis.

 

Daydreaming of seeing DB later that evening.

Daydreaming of seeing DB later that evening.

 

(Side note: Normally I nod and agree with much of what David Tang has to say in his weekend FT column but we’ll have to agree to disagree on the subject of baths in hotel suites. He’s never shared a suite with me so clearly he has missed on out such perspective changing experiences such as this or this)

Ok, back on topic…

Why I was so interested in the hypnosis part of the show? Well, it goes back to over a year ago when I removed a certain gentleman’s fetish from him. On the whole, I am very accepting of fetishes but this one I did not agree with: a smoking fetish. There are a number of reasons why I don’t agree with it but fundamentally, he (as a non-smoker) was engaging in enjoying in watching attractive women destroy their health and their looks for his pleasure in watching them wrap their lips around a cigarette and inhale long sultry breaths of smoke.

In our conversations, he had expressed great ambivalence regarding his smoking fetish, not only in terms of rational objections but also in terms of emotional morality (good conscience). ‘Well, let me help you with that,’ I thought.

Having studied psychology, I used the information I had learned back at university as a jumping off point to explore further and find out how I might remove behaviours through conditioning and added a few twists of my own along the way (of course!).

What struck me afterwards, when  I read DB’s book ‘Tricks of The Mind’, was how I had instinctively used many of the techniques he suggests or alludes to in the section on hypnosis. Though he doesn’t (wisely, I feel) explain a direct ‘how to’, he does give enough information for the reader to work much of it out for themselves.

My technique for fetish removal involved:

  •       Surprise- using high emotional states and extended anticipation.
  •       Unusual location- I used a local Mistress’s dungeon (another surprise)
  •       Using his desire to please me against his desire for his fetish
  •       Him feeling safe with me and trusting me (I took my time in building a D/s relationship with him before attempting this)
  •       A significant number of electrical shocks delivered via a urethral probe.
  •       Conversational hypnosis (not overt hypnosis)
  •       Operant conditioning

 

Now, there may be an unorthodox element in there, but the result speaks for itself: he no longer has his 35 year old smoking fetish. In fact, he no longer even notices pretty girls on the street smoking and is completely disgusted by the thought of smoking (which he had all along, it was just in conflict with his arousal at seeing a girl smoke). Now he no longer is aroused by seeing females smoke, there is no conflict and he is very happy with no longer having a smoking fetish.

So, now that I have removed his smoking fetish, it seems rather unfair that I have left him without a fetish at all. Maybe I should replace it with another fetish? But which one?

I thought it would be fun to put it to a poll. Place your votes for which fetish you think I should condition for him to enjoy as though it were his own from forever before:

I have only included fetishes I thoroughly enjoy playing with and those I feel are a healthier alternative to the smoking fetish (at least unless you’re a silk worm or a chinchilla) but I am open to hearing any other suggestions too.

So, what are your thoughts readers?

 

Editor’s note: If you have subscribed to my blog then unfortunately you received a slightly scrambled version of this post in your inbox when I pressed ‘publish’ instead of ‘save draft’ this morning. My apologies. For the life of me, I don’t know why they put those two buttons near to each other!

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London Mistress, Personal, Uncategorized

The Real Irene Adler

Sometimes life is just amusing and one of the ways I amuse myself is putting on some red lipstick and strolling through town. I say ‘strolling’ but when I stroll, I stride; I’m a fast walker. Even tall men with much longer legs struggle to keep up with me.

Last week  proved to be more amusing than most whenI had put on my own blended mixed of Mac’s ‘Ladybug’ and Dior’s ‘Black Tie’ to create a deep and vibrant shade of red before taking a walk to meet a friend for an early supper before the theatre that evening.

My red lipstick  was already attracting a lot of attention from men who couldn’t seem to take their eyes off my lips as we passed by each other, sometimes from the other side of the street.

However, just as I was strolling through one of London’s central parks (I wont say exactly which one in case it’s his regular running route), I noticed a man jogging towards me with what looked like two security personnel. As he got closer, I had that feeling that I knew him from somewhere, his face was definitely familiar but I couldn’t quite place him . However, he did appear to have a fixated gaze on my lips. In fact, as he jogged towards me his mouth was wide open and he was staring at my succulent red lips. Of course he was: a beautiful woman with bright red lipstick was striding toward him.

Who knew that our Prime Minster liked red lipstick quite so much?

I was tempted to wink at him but didn’t fancy making him stumble. Ah, my benevolent Goddess was out on that sunny afternoon. He should be thankful, as I am often in a playful mood.

Dave C's blend. What shall I call it? Whip Red?

Dave C’s blend. What shall I call it? Whip Red, maybe?

 

I certainly have harboured vague fantasies about being a parliamentary whip as I pass the Houses of Parliament on one of my running routes. Only, I would do it my way, definitely less orthodox, certainly more efficient and most likely more effective! Now there is a certain someone starring in them too.

Incidentally, there is someone maintaing a Twitter feed as Irene Adler. There are a few but this one is the funniest, especially in her obsession with all things Benedict Cumberbatch: https://twitter.com/The_Whip_Hand

Sometimes I am asked if I will get a Twitter account and my thoughts are always the same, I would hate to be restricted to 140 characters or less. I’m a woman with more to say than that. So when people ask me why I don’t have a Twitter account, I simply reply: ‘because my favourite word is logophilia’. Some laugh out loud, some give a blank look.

For those of you who don’t get it, click here but I hope you were one of the ones who laughed out loud.

 

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Black Pearl Dommes, London Mistress, Uncategorized

Black Pearl Dommes

Spring has literally just sprung (yesterday was the official first day of spring) and my avenue is lined with trees full of blossom. Since spring is the time for planting new things to grow, so too have I been busy getting ready a project I have had in mind for some time but only started work on a few weeks ago. It is now ready as my 100th blog post here today. How exciting!

I’m very pleased and proud to present to you:

(click on image to open link)

BPD screenshot final

Throughout my journey as Lifestyle Domme to Pro-Domme and back to highly-tributed Lifestyle Domme, I have explored various ideas and how they fit in with my life and values.

One of those ideas was to create an association of like-minded Dommes, gathering together the few individuals who do This Thing That I Do in a similar way, sharing our companionship alongside fetish and domination experiences, being highly selective, seeking longer-term playmates and, above all, offer genuine Female Domination as we enjoy to practice it.

So, here are the very first Black Pearls. Just as spring has sprung, so too are we in the beginning of growing something different in the world of compensated Domination.

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Courtesan, London Mistress, Uncategorized

Lady’s Maid For The Day

(Although last week I had promised  a special announcement this week, that will be next week due to a miscalculation of blog posts)

 

As I opened my (very neatly organised, of course) lingerie drawer earlier this week, I saw to my dismay that I was very nearly out of fresh knickers. Indeed, a small pile for hand wash only had accumulated in the corner of the boudoir room.

Mainly La Perla, a little Andres Sarda but a lot of lace to be lovingly hand washed.

Mainly La Perla, a little Andres Sarda but a lot of lace to be lovingly hand washed.

‘Time to send for my lady’s maid this week,’ I thought and promptly emailed my gent to arrive with the appropriate clothing and make-up for the next day.

That evening, I wrote a note for him containing instructions for the day and laid it out in a visible place for him to see, telling him to come straight in as I would be asleep still.

As the sun shone through my bedroom blinds, I was woken up by my lady’s maid at the entrance to my bedroom, softly saying ‘Good morning, Mistress’ as she placed my cup of coffee by my bedside and handed me that morning’s Telegraph, as she had been instructed to do in my note to her. It occurred to me that she was wearing make-up and yet I was wearing none, a strange turn-up for the books.

I let her kneel by my bedside as I drank my coffee, skimming the news headlines and chatting with her for a little while until I was ready for my morning bath, which I charged her to draw with a few drops of bergamot oil in it for me.

Laying back in the warm, enveloping water, I instructed her to make my bed before again allowing her to kneel in front of me as she read out any interesting articles from the business section of the paper to me before I felt ready to have her wash my back and shave my legs.

After my bath, she massaged my body lotion into me, paying careful attention to my thighs, still sore from an intense workout the day before and my feet, always needing attention.

This is the loveliest body lotion I have come across in a long time. Smells delicious and feels wonderful on.

This is the loveliest body lotion I have come across in a long time. Smells delicious and feels wonderful on.

Considering that I practically had no knickers left, all I could do was have her dress me in a very short and tight skirt with no underwear, knee-high socks and a cashmere jumper, which was perfectly suitable attire for a morning at home.

Her next task was to paint my nails for me, something she struggles with but it is mainly from lack of confidence than lack of actual ability. I have in mind to send her away on a manicure and pedicure course and given that she isn’t allowed painted nails at Fitzgerald Towers, I imagine it would be quite a thrill for her to have other girls paint her nails for her as well being able paint theirs?

Having been a busy Mistress recently, I have had little time to catch up on personal correspondence and I have two letters from dear friends quite outstanding, so spent time letter writing as my maid washed my knickers for me before setting them out to dry in the utility room. Time well spent on both our parts I feel.

Although the position of lady’s maid has privileges that other servants do not have, one being so close to the mistress of the house, it is also fair to say that since the life of a lady’s maid revolves around that of her mistress, it would seem that her work is never done.

Lucky for her then that I gave her the afternoon off and, after lunch, allowed him to accompany me instead on Kings Road as I did a spot of shopping for some household niceties. We even found a lovely breakfast tray and now I am wondering what I might want for breakfast next time I send for her: eggs Benedict, blueberry pancakes or simply homemade pain au chocolat?

Decisions, decisions!

(Announcement *will* be next week!)

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London Mistress

It Isn’t Over Until The Fat Lady Sings

Or until the soprano is dying in this case. Not for one gent who I surprised this week by treating him to hear La Bohème at the Royal Albert Hall, and then surprised him again in the interval when I produced a couple of small mesh bags of electrical attachments to take to the gent’s loo. Bless, he had thought I had just bought us tickets for a treat, which indeed I had, but with me there is usually a little trick to the treat.

After the last time when we went to the theatre to see The Mistress Contract (sadly a mistress with a small ‘m’ rather than a capital one) and he fell asleep, I wondered how I could help him stay more awake and alert during performances. I am nothing if not helpfully solution-orientated. The answer was my ErosTek 232 with the dial set to audio. I was kind and set it to ‘Audio Loud’ rather than ‘Audio Soft’ or else he would have had a very difficult time keeping up with the performance on stage. I laid my pashmina over our laps to cover up the wire and the ErosTek box.

He arrived earlier that day with no idea what was going to happen, as is usually the case. I had only emailed him some weeks before telling him to keep the evening free of the somethingth March, which he duly and dutifully did.

Before heading to the Royal Albert Hall, I had booked us in for afternoon tea at The Dorchester, where I had gone only earlier this week to meet one of London’s Dommes (you’ll figure out who when I write next week’s post- it’s very special I can assure you). Alas, my plan to use the remote-controlled butt plug on him during our time there failed due to my spare batteries having shifted themselves into bizarre shapes in my absence. Like I told him: ‘Oh well, we have that to look forward to another time!’

As pretty and enjoyable as our afternoon tea was, I still think a remote-controlled vibrating butt plug would have enhanced the situation.

As pretty and enjoyable as our afternoon tea was, I still think a remote-controlled vibrating butt plug would have enhanced the situation.

After making it to the Royal Albert Hall just on time, we settled in to an amazing first act- roller skating waiters, a rich and complex market scene where one did not know where to look, so much was happening and scenes that varied from the amusing to the moving. Beyond being completely surprised, he seemed to be settling in and enjoying the performance. Oh, how little did he know what awaited him…

Well hello everyone else. Can you guess what's in my bag? No? Oh good.

Well hello everyone else. Can you guess what’s in my bag? No? Oh good.

During the second act, he seemed far less relaxed. I had my shoulder gently pressed to him to gauge his responses beyond the small twitches and jerks he gave at the more forte and fortissimo moments. His breathing was quite rapid at the beginning, obviously the adrenaline was working its course but eventually he settled in to the experience. However, I did switch off my ErosTek and unplug him just before Mimi’s death scene, which I did for a number of reasons:

  1. Out of respect for the scene itself. It is a serious scene and deserves full attention.
  2. I wanted to pay full attention to the scene and not to have a major percentage of my brain keeping an eye on my gent, making sure my fingers were near the dial just in case I needed to dial it down at any point. All whilst making sure no-one else saw either the box or what was happening (especially the ‘Disgusted from Tunbridge Wells’ brigade behind us who didn’t see why the performance had to be so ‘racy’. Oh dear ladies, if only you knew…)
  3. I am a bit of a softie at heart, even if I do have a bit of a sadistic streak and so I tend to get a little watery-eyed at such scenes; an emotional women at the helm of an electrical box is not a good idea!

Indeed, I’m sure that he was glad I had turned off the ErosTek before the final applause, my enthusiastic applause combined with my appreciative cries of ‘Bravo!’ and ‘Brava!’ as the lead cast took their bows may have been too much for him. I guess my benevolent Goddess was showing herself after my sadistic Goddess had come out to play.

As much as it served to keep my gent awake and alert, I fear that I needed two sets of attachments as the gent next to me was nodding off during the second act. I very much wished I had brought a spare set when he began chatting during Mimi’s death scene and I had to poke him in the arm telling him to shush, which did the trick, but the ErosTek would have been far more satisfying.

If you have the chance to hear La Bohème at The Royal Albert Hall, I highly recommend it, even if you don’t have an ErosTek to take along with you! Although one technically goes to hear an opera, not to see it, there was so much happening visually, a real feast for the eyes, that even those not into opera would be hard pressed not to enjoying watching the onstage action.

In other slightly random recommendations, if you can get a ticket (or two, if you’re lucky) to see Good People at the Hampstead Theatre, do go. I went last week and it’s a fantastic play- well written and beautifully executed by a strong cast and, of course, Imelda Staunton is amazing. Yes, I’ve been quite the social butterfly recently.

 

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London Mistress

Tease and Denial

I’m sat writing this as my lovely new PA is dealing with the various tasks one has to do in life (or not, in my case) that take up precious headspace and time when I could be investing both those things doing something better with that very headspace and time.

Indeed, I have been doing just that. As she has been sorting through a backlog of expenses this morning, I have been practising a new BDSM skill I learnt only just yesterday so I am keen to practice whilst the muscle memory is still fresh. I will talk about it at here at a later stage in more detail but for now, I am just enjoying it for myself.

 

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? No, it’s Dominant baton throwing! Or is it…

 

Some people find that secrets are burdens and such people are generally keen to share secrets, whether yours or theirs (and as such to be avoided in life). However, I enjoy keeping secrets, both mine and those of others. Even when there is no need for secrecy, I find it pleasurable to keep some news and information to oneself, or at the very least, to one’s inner circle.

So, as my PA is trying to concentrate, so too am I able to sit and write a quick update here. I am also working on another new little (Domme) project, which is very exciting. Again, my lips are sealed until I feel ready to say more. It should be ready in a couple of weeks.

I know, this is very much a tease and denial post. I would like to say I’m sorry about that, but I’m not at all. In fact, I rather like it. The wicked tease that I am…

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Personal

My Funny Valentine

It’s no secret that I share the same curmudgeonly disregard for Valentine’s Day as I do for New Year’s Eve: both require me to act in a way that is incongruous with my feelings towards those days. Both are inherently prescriptive in nature and beyond hating being told what to do, even more do I hate to be told how to feel. Indeed, here is my post from last year’s Valentine’s Day for those of you that missed it.

going-romantically-spontaneous-valentines-day-ecard-someecards

 

I’m very much one for self-love (not to be confused with narcissism). So, today I have already made myself a fabulous breakfast (poached egg on Poilâne sourdough bread, toasted, served with ham, tomatoes, spinach and a cup of Rooibos tea if you must know) and after writing this, I will have a long soak in the bath with some luxury bath oils before dressing and getting on with my day.

Later tonight, I will light some candles in the drawing room and dining room, cook myself a delicious dinner (to be decided) and then afterwards relax on the sofa reading a book.

But wait, how is that different from most other days at Fitzgerald Towers?

It’s not. I quite agree with the other Miss Fitzgerald- the lovely Ella Fitzgerald: “Each day is valentine’s day”*

Of course, having said all the above, I received the loveliest Valentine’s message in my inbox from one of my gents that completely spoilt my curmudgeonly disregard for such a day and positively made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I guess he is now even for me making him look forward to his birthday last year when he hadn’t celebrated it in over 20 years.

I’m off to enjoy my bath and listen to a little Ella Fitzgerald.

 

*Yes, Chet baker, Miles Davis, Frank Sinatra and Andy Williams have all done recordings of My Funny Valentine too amongst many others. But you have to appreciate the Fitzgerald. Both of us.

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