The Allegory

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She lights the candles scattered around the room, taking her time to allow the darkness to become thin slices of light in his narrow field of vision against the mask. There is only the steady sound of each other breathing, the smallness of which fills the entire room and she waits, holding the quiet between them in suspense.

He hears the clink of metal and the soft shuffle of her heels on the carpet. The sound appears to surround him and he cannot tell where she is in the room. As instructed, he keeps his head down as he kneels on the carpet in the centre of the room.

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He wants to know where she is, to look up and see her silhouette against the light and feel reassured that she is still there. A moment of panic, of childish need and quiet desperation runs through him and he is tempted to raise his head but he hesitates and breathes in deeply. The heady scent of leather and the light touch of Miss Olivia’s hand cream from where she had caressed his face before blindfolding him steadies his nerves.

Fingers trace lightly on his back. In the few moments he had let his awareness slip away, she has slipped closer to him. The sensation shocks him back in to the present.

“Where were you?” she demands.

“I was wondering where you were Mistress.” His voice tightens in his throat, dry and brittle as the words come out.

A warmth strokes across the side of his face: her breath close to him.

“Then you were not here,“ she whispers.

“No, Mistress.”

“In fact,” He feels the warmth pull away from him “You have been quite remiss. I have been calling you and you have only just answered.”

He feels another warmth in his cheeks, this time burning with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry Mistress, I don’t remember hearing you call me. Please accept my apologies if my mind had wandered again.”

“Not now. Not here. Before. I have been calling you for some time.”

“I’m sorry Mistress, I don’t understand.”

“I am the siren’s call in your dreams, I am Lilith come back for you, I am the writhing sweat-soaked sleep you call rest.”

A coldness slithers down across his back and encircles his wrists behind him. A click as the chains are padlocked together.

The panic rises up again. How does she know? Only an hour before they had been sat together over dinner, conversing with ease and now, here he was naked, blindfolded, and chained in his hotel room.

“I know what you dream of at night,” she continues. “I know that you come home tired and by the time you crawl into bed you’re completely exhausted. I know that you long to sleep but sleep is no respite as the dreams prevent restful sleep.”

He lifts his head up in curiosity. It is met by a forceful push back down.

“Sorry Mistress.” He gathers his thoughts. “I was wondering how you know about my dreams?”

She stands closer to him, clasps a handful of his hair and pulls his cheek against her leg. He feels the softness of her stocking, the tautness of her strong muscles and feels overcome with emotion. He cannot say what it is, only that it is a rising feeling like fear or overwhelming happiness. Tears begin to well up in his eyes behind the leather mask and small sobs punctuate the stillness of the room. Her hand strokes his exposed neck.

“I know what you have been hiding from. It is time to stop hiding.”

He nods in agreement, thankful that the mask prevents his tears from damping his Mistress’ leg.

“You dream of me…you dream of me,” she soothes.

Deeper sobs erupt from him, pulsations of deep-buried fear and she allows him to be, close to her, vulnerable but safe. A hand reaches behind his head and removes the blindfold. She moves in front of him, lifting his chin with her hand.

“Slowly open your eyes.”

In the flickering darkness, as his vision returns, he sees before him the woman of his desires, this alchemist of desire, unattainable and yet here in front of him. Her very presence begins to quell the emptiness he feared would haunt him forever.

“Do you trust me?” she asks.

“I do, Mistress. I trust you completely.”

“Then we are ready to begin,” she smiles.

He focuses on her eyes glinting in the dark and feels the weight of the chains behind his back and for the first time in many years, feels that he is truly free.

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New Year, New Location

 

As someone who previously considered anywhere outside of Central London as the suburbs, and outside the M25 as ‘countryside’, my move to the Midlands was not without long consideration upon my part.

There were the practical considerations I wanted to have in place for any new location (good transport links via train and road to the rest of the UK, as well as an International Airport), social aspects (restaurants/bars and also galleries/theatres for my arty-farty interests) as well as a variety of good quality city and country hotels for play sessions. The logical answer was Birmingham.

However, I had a strong emotional attachment to not just London as a place but as an identity: I was a Londoner. I wondered how I would be able to relinquish that part of myself; was I really so attached to a place, an identity built upon it that I could not relocate and move forward to explore living elsewhere?

It turned out that you can take the girl out of London but you can’t take the London out of the girl-even after months of living here, I am bemused when strangers try and talk to me in public spaces, but grateful that they are so friendly and helpful as I navigate my way around living in a new city with all that entails. And I seem socially conditioned to stand on the right of an escalator with even conscious attempts to stand still on the left remaining beyond me thus far.

Yet after a few months of living in Birmingham, I already begin to feel as though it is my home. I am making new circles of friends, both kinky and vanilla and look forward to meeting new gents for sessions in the next coming week.

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I still travel regularly to London to see people for extended appointments and will occasionally be available on Tuesdays in Central London for shorter introductory sessions of 1-2 hours available by booking in advance. Notice of these sessions will be announced on my website and also Twitter.

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Human Puppy Play

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They say that having a pet is good for your health and, after this afternoon, I can certainly agree. Earlier today, I was flagging from a very early start, travelling to two meetings (non D/s alas!), one of which was in proper Nosebleed North London.

So, by the time I headed back to civilisation, my main thoughts were on a. having a pee b. having a cup of tea and c. having a nap. And specifically in that order too.

After watching Channel 4’s The Secret Life of Human Pups the other night, I had a ‘But I want a puppy!!!!’ moment that I have never before had, since I consider owning an actual canine to be the equivalent of being a glorified poo slave. But then, we can’t all be dog people can we? Not unless that dog is a human dog- for me at least. And so as you put it out there into the ether, so the Universe replies benevolently ‘Yes, Miss Fitzgerald, you shall have your wish!’. And I didn’t even have to ask for a pony first either.

Pet Roll Over

Lovely submissive pose, having rolled over on his back as I stand over him.

The other benefit of a human puppy is that I’m pretty sure the RSPCA would have some strong views about the training techniques I used on him so it’s a good job my pup could consent and had sent across his limits to me via email. I guess this is why non-human canines get the snip, much safer than letting their Mistress or Master having access to such soft sensitive parts just for the amusement of hearing their yelping and whining.

I should like to point out that I really had to do that since for all other intents and purposes, he was being such a well-behaved doggy, obeying his commands on cue and learning to lay down and sit up quite elegantly, practically to Crufts level, that I had to insert a little bit more deviance into our play.

Pet Nipple Clamps

Why bother using the leash to teach how to sit up nicely when you have nipple clamps?

In the background I played Lou Doillon- a fairly new discovery for me music-wise although I really enjoyed watching her in Gigola many years ago, her role inspiring a gender-bending role-play with me as Pimp and him as my little whore. What fun! So, it bode well for play today and Mademoiselle Doillon did not disappoint.

I hummed along to the music as I teasingly tied him into a chest harness, letting the hemp rope move achingly slowly around and across his body. In my opinion the harness is far better than the leash, much more control over the body and it physically lets pup know who is in charge. Especially when it’s all connected up to his sensitive parts as well.

Pet Harness CBT

Harness from back, wrapped around and tied to cock and balls. One gentle (or not!) tug along the spine line and you can have him sitting up and begging harder than Oliver Twist.

It’s a shame that one of his limits is anal play as a nice little butt plug with a tail would have been superb to see him wag, so in the end, I just had to get him to raise him bum so I could peg his balls to get him to wiggle those as frantically as he could instead. I challenge any furry mutt to be as amusing as that!

Of course, lots of belly rubs, ear scratching and ‘good boy’s were plentiful too.

So, now I am refreshed and rejuvenated from our play today. I hope he is too. Although, I suspect he is now relaxing after getting over-excited and eating his own cum. Puppies really will eat anything won’t they?

The only question remains… what to name him? Suggestions on a postcard, or in the comments below.

Carpe Diem and All That

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I’m sat in front of the open window for the second day in a row at my desk in vest and knickers, the cool breeze tickling my flesh through gauzy material and the silk crisp against my skin.*

I should point out that they are not the same pair of knickers and silk vest as yesterday, in between working at a feverish pace to catch up on lots of admin that I have fallen back on, I have managed to have shower and slip on some fresh ones.

My apologies for the absence on social media, both here and on Twitter, life became unexpectedly busy with other things and the first thing take a hit was social media, it being the bright glacé cherry on the icing of the actual cake of life, not life itself although it’s sometimes easy to forget that.

The second aspect of my website being down was that, in the midst of putting up a holding page to work on my website, one of my closest friends suddenly and devastatingly died at a rather young age (barely thirty), I have been marshalling my resources to grieve, spend time with friends, her family and generally be gentle with myself. I now been able to re-gather my thoughts, considering the changes I want to make and how I want to make them and how to communicate it on my website.

If nothing else, it has given me a swift reminder that life is for living, however we chose to live it.

For those of you who are no good at needle-in-a-haystack style games, I’ll spell it out the changes for you:

  1. I no longer require a public meeting before we play.

After doing this for some years now, I am in a position where my radar is pretty good and I am happy to trust my instincts about the sincerity and genuineness about a person before we meet.

I quite liked relaxing indoors drinking a cup of tea, waiting for my gent to turn up, quite decadent really.

  1. Deposits are only required for extended meetings. However, if two people are enquiring for the same time slot, guess which person I will choose? If you offer one to me, I will take it as a show of your genuine sincerity that you are serious in meeting with me and value my time. When people do that for me, well, they get treated favourably with sprinkles on top.
  2. New pictures are coming soon as well.

Phew, time to take the knickers off now…

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*Disclaimer: this was written two days ago but I got distracted by the sun and heat. I have been able to sit and finish both the website and the writing of this blog post today as a new houseboy has been busy getting on with my ironing- storming through it in fact (I am rather impressed!)- and in turn I have been able to focus on writing.

I’m Actually Back!!!

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After a bit of a false start, I am actually, truly, returning to Domme life again. I have visited the vicissitudes of ‘civilian life’ and along the way I have learnt a lot and enjoyed my ability to learn about many facets I did not think were in my grasp. I have challenged myself, taught myself and surprised myself on the journey. All that has put me in good stead for being a better Domme and Courtesan. It has also made me more appreciative of how much I enjoy (with relish!) my life as a Dominant Courtesan.

To give you a little tease…here is a photo from the latest photoshoot. Full launch this weekend methinks.

 

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Watch out World….

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I am finally getting back into Domme Life again; a wonderful Introductory Meeting last week with a new gent at a super restaurant in Mayfair and today I am busy prepping, testing and packing equipment for a trip away with a gent later this week. Ah, the bliss of being me.

Sat talking with an old friend I had not seen in a couple of years (and who does not know about my D/s life), he asked how I recharge my batteries with such a full life. I replied that my work is my lifestyle, my lifestyle is my work, there is no distinction: it is all one pleasurable blur. It reminded me of this quote:

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Can you guess what is going to happen?

Can you guess what is going to happen? I think if you look hard enough you’ll figure it out for yourselves. I wonder how long it will take him to realise….?

Those who do know of my D/s life do sometimes seem to think that I just magically appear in various places of the world, do my thing and leave. It isn’t the case, there is a lot of thought and planning that goes into the sort of encounters I enjoy- the work part of it- which, happily, is also the leisure part of it too. As a gent once said:

“In life, the appetite is often as pleasurable as the consummation”

Oh, how right he is. Fortunately, and unfortunately for him.

Next week, I may post some teaser photos from my trip away…

The Ubiquitous 50 Shades Review

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I think every blogger has done their review of the ‘50 Shades of Grey’ film by now so I thought I would offer my own review done slightly differently as limerick style:

Upon watching ’50 Shades of Grey’, slightly bored

Miss Fitzgerald turned to her friend and was overheard:

“Grey’s red room of pain

Seems rather tame,

Especially compared to EL James’ written word”

In fact, the phrase: “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear” could be an even more succinct review of the film. I have to say, I rather enjoyed it. My expectations were set so low from reading the book that anything was a vast improvement on having to suffer through EL James’ writing.

As we came out of the cinema, my friend was practically ranting and raving about how people will walk out of the film and think that that is what BDSM is like, that Mr Grey’s behaviours are acceptable and it is a travesty to the kink community. I had to remind her that this was an audience that giggled upon the sight of pubic hair (thank you Sam Taylor-Johnson for showing actual adult pubic hair. I don’t think some of the younger audience knew what it was) and they are more likely to continue to giggle away at it than genuinely explore it.

However, those that are intrigued will most likely do some research and find amongst the many, many reviews of both the book and the film, important information on consent in BDSM and appropriate non-stalkerish behaviour in relationships.

I also had to point out that EL James was one of the producers (some of us do read the credits!), which may have something to do with the fact that Mr Grey’s character had not changed as much as he could have done with more artistic licence.

The delicious Jamie Dornan, as promised to my friend J when I told her I was writing a blog post on 50 Shades. See…here you go!)

The delicious Jamie Dornan, as promised to my friend J when I told her I was writing a blog post on 50 Shades. There you go…

Although my Inner Goddess did not do the dance of the seven veils or jump up and down with cheerleading pom poms when she saw Grey’s Red Room of pain, it produced the green-eyed monster in her, especially over his very sturdy cuffs, some real horsehair whips and the Mark Brazier Tally Ho chairs (in green velvet no less). In fact, seeing those were the parts where I’m pretty sure I heard my Inner Goddess squeal with delight. I then shut her up with another overpriced pick and mix sweet.

Valentines Day….The Miss Fitzgerald Way

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Previous readers of my blog will be familiar with my concept of not celebrating Valentine’s Day; it being an enforced day of celebration, too prescriptive and overcrowded and generally underwhelming. It’s not that I am not romantic- I am. It’s just that I prefer my romance to be slightly more original than red roses and chocolates and not synchronised with the rest of the Western World.

So, instead, whether I am flying solo or with a lover or partner, I prefer to treat myself to something that I will enjoy and try and escape the masses.

This year, I decided to challenge myself by going to hear an opera sung in English when the original libretto is in another language- in this case Verdi’s La Traviata at the ENO (English National Opera).

One of the joys of going solo to a performance is the ability to nab a really good seat even if you book a month after bookings open.

Preferred seat- five to seven rows back, centre. Of course.

Preferred seat- five to seven rows back, centre. Of course.

 

Whilst it was a very technically very skilled performance from both the cast and orchestra, I found that there was something lacking in the barrenness of the mise-en-scène, much like a  Brecht play. I can appreciate the value of Realist mise-en-scène: it allows for a focus on the music, rather than the stage. After all, one goes to hear an opera, not see it.

Yet part of the joy of opera for me, is to be magically moved and transported to another time and place and the combination of Realist mise-en-scène and translated libretto from Italian to English, just did not work for me.

Last year when at the Royal Albert Hall, hearing La Bohème with a gent (who also happened to be connected to my little Erostek box hidden under my cashmere wrap over our laps), I had tell the gent next to me to be quiet during Mimi’s death scene and sorely wished that it was he who was connected to my electrical box and not my gent.

And true to form, it seems that unless I am at the ROH, I find myself having to correct someone’s bad (read:rude) behaviour. In this case, it was a young woman who had turned up, solo I believe, regaled in diamonds and a lovely mink stole that I surreptitiously and non-consensually stroked at various points as she sat next to me.

As the final curtain fell, she stood up to leave. I could see that she was desperate to be first to get into a taxi and be away…but the audience applause at the end of any opera, or indeed any performance, is not just as much part of the enjoyment itself with cries of “Brava!’, “Bravo!’ and Bravi’ but also a way to show genuine appreciation for those that have sung and acted their hearts out on stage.

So, I put my arm up in front of her to block her exit and said: ‘No, it’s important that you stay and applaud. Sit down.”

I had already figured her to be an opera novice anyway and so without any dispute, she duly say straight back down and started to applaud. I like to think that I have contributed to her knowledge, etiquette and experience of opera as a result.

As I exited the ENO, I thought it might take some time to hail a cab back home but that would be fine- I was still riding on the delicious waves of a most enjoyable evening, even if it wasn’t entirely to my taste. I had appreciated the fine skilled voices and the passion put into the performances. Yet, I turned to look behind me and there was a yellow light aglow of an available taxi just approaching me. I stuck out my arm and hopped in.

I wonder how much longer it took her to hail one after me. Happy Valentine’s Day to me, what a lucky woman I am.

In other news: for someone who is single and doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day- I didn’t do too badly on the card front this year. Thank you to my admirers.

Not Quite New, Not Quite Beginning

No-one will most likely read this blog post for a couple of months until I announce my return with my shiny new website, photographs and offerings. However, the reason I have announced my return on my old website but not returned to Dominant Companion Life is that I am currently resting a poor broken ankle (broken in two places!) that is currently in a cast.

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The nurse asked me if I wanted glitter on it. ‘Of course!’ I enthusiastically replied. I am slightly regretting that now as I will be finding glitter over everything for months still to come…

How did I manage to do it? I would love to say that I got by skiing on a black diamond trail but in actual fact I got it by running down the stairs here at Fitzgerald Towers, falling splat at the bottom with all the grace of a baby giraffe.

Thankfully, I have lots of lovely people: subs, gents and friends who are rallying round and helping me out. Not quite the start I had in mind for either 2015 or for oliviafitzgerald.com but sometimes we just have to make the most of it, appreciate what we have, appreciate what we don’t have (a broken neck!) and realise that things can only go up from here.