Location, Location 2 – An Upstart Mistress’ Tale

Prehistoric man, we’ve been told by the experts, believed in what is known as “sympathetic magic”. They painted a mammoth or a bison pierced with spears on the cave wall, and expected that this representation of their wish, would turn into reality on their next hunting expedition.

Many women in the scene do the same thing. They discover BDSM and Domination on the internet, and read avidly; they fill their heads with fantasy stories about dominant goddesses making men surrender at they will, emptying their wallets to filling their luxury penthouse-dungeons with the diamonds they shit every morning… They look at countless websites where Mistresses, Dommes, Goddesses, Queens, Supreme Bitches, Temptresses… command armies of subjugated, devoted slaves, and believe every single word. And of course, they want whatever that high-falluting Superior Bitch is having.

So next thing these women do, to ease the boredom of their mundane lives, of their uninspiring relationships, they decide that they want to be one of these formidable, superhuman seductresses too. They decide there and then that they, too are Dominant, and call themselves Mistress. From now on, the greyness and frustrations of everyday life are history.  Men and relationships, who until now had proved tricky, will be mastered (“Mistressed”?) by the simplifications of D/s protocol.

How simple! Who’d thought that life, love, sexuality, one’s sense of self-worth, would be so simple to conquer? Stick a label, and you become it. Call yourself a Goddess, a Mistress, a Temptress, and you are instantly one. Men and the world will get on their knees in your presence, just because you say so.

I had one of these deluded creatures in my studio earlier this week, and I don’t recommend the experience. It was brief, less than five minutes before I asked her to get out of my private sanctuary at once. I feel soiled by this fool and her posturing. In nine years opening my doors to vistiros of all sexual persuasions and genders, I’d never turned anybody away at the door.

Maria had contacted me via email to enquiry about my tutorials for budding and aspiring Dommes. She sounded very new and fresh in the world of Domination, and her emails read as if she expected to acquire the secrets of Domination in one afternoon, just by the magical exchange of money. She’d probably looked at websites and read many so called “real Mistress” blogs, and had bought into the fantasy of Female Supremacy and Domination. So she expected to leave my studio turned into The Mistress she wanted to be. We eventually agreed on a limited 3 hour rope bondage lesson, because you can’t run before you can walk.

On the day agreed for the tutorial, she called me from my nearest train station and I gave her the full address, just as I do with all my clients. It takes 5 minutes to find my street, then you need some more directions to find the door, and you are here. London is a vast, complicated city. After 20 minutes waiting for her, she still wasn’t here. I tried her mobile twice, but she didn’t reply. After half an hour, she knocked at the door and marched straight in, and into the studio, in a huffing, raging temper. Without as much as a greeting, she stormed straight into the playspace and dropped her bags on a coffee table. Not even a ‘hello, how are you’. But then, she opened her mouth and went on an abusive tirade about the neighbourhood, my choice of address, my space. In her raging fury, her shrillest screams were used mostly to repeat one word that seemed to horrify her: “POOR! This is a POOR address! A POOR neighborhood! YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY RECEIVE ANY CLIENTS HERE, CAN YOU? CAN YOU??? This is a POOR part of London! I come from KENSINGTON!

She went on and on, flapping like a scared, angry chicken. Trying my best to ignore her rude, personal attacks on my lifestyle, I asked her several times to sit down, relax, have a cup of tea and wait five minutes, so we could start talking in a civilized way. She was outraged that her taxi driver, didn’t know how to find my address either and had been driving in circles till they found my address. A cab driver who doens’t know her job, eh? Well, this is London my dear. But she blamed me, my choice of address, my appalling “POOR! POOR! Neighborhood!!!

She went on and on, she wouldn’t listen to anyone but herself. After 10 minutes putting up with this, I told her that I didn’t think it was a good idea to proceed with the tutorial. I showed her the door and losing my calm at last, slammed it behind her. It felt good.
I was shaking with rage and impotence. How can anyone be so fucking rude??? Never, in 9 years working as a Pro-Domme, have I felt the need to trow someone out.

The next day, calmer myself, I sent her this email:

“Good morning Maria,

I’m still trying to make sense of what happened yesterday when you arrived in my studio. I understand that you couldn’t find my address and took a taxi, who obviously didn’t know his way around London either, and you were finally 25 minutes late.

When you arrived, you where stressed and angry at being late. I asked you to sit down and relax, but you refused. You started critizising my choice of address, and kept asking me personal questions such as “why don’t you work in Central London”?, in an angry tone. I asked you again to calm down and sit down, have a cup of tea. You refused again and continues your angry abuse. You went on about this “poor neighbourhood” and couldn’t believe that I receive clients here, or that anyone can come this way.

Maria, this is London. It’s a huge city with a long history and very varied and contrasted communities. You were in the heart of the East End, a historic quarter famous for its history, its ethnic, artistic and bohemian character. You don’t seem familiar this sort of bohemian lifestyles, but to critizise what you don’t know or is new to you, is simply bad manners.

I have lived in London for almost 20 years. I know it very well. You aren’t from London, obviously your knowledge of the city is limited to a few neighbourhoods, but felt entitled to abuse me for not living in Kensington. You judged a book by its covers. You made negative personal comments about me, who had just welcomed you in her personal space.

I have never, in 9 years a a Pro-Domme, felt the need to cancel a session and turn my client away at the door. You were abusive, rude and had no manners. You insulted me. You even started giving me orders to turn the music down and to start the session “now! I’m in a hurry!”. I have never been the object of such gratuitious abuse, in my studio.

I feel abused and insulted. All I did was to receive you in my studio and offer you my knowledge and expertise. You showed no respect nor manners and seemed to blame me for your taxi getting lost and for being late.

I have thought about this long and hard, and have decided not to refund the £150 deposit that you paid in advance. I did my part of the deal, I received you professionally and warmly, and was ready for our tutorial. There was no good reason to complain about me. I’ve received no apologies from you for you rude, appalling behaviour. Is this how you normally treat people who receive you in their homes, offices or studios?

I’m sure that today, calmer after yesterday’s scene, you will understand my position, which is final.

I hope you have a good stay in London.

Regards,

Ms Tytania.”

I received this reply from her this morning:

“Good evening Ms Tytania,

first of all- I did not expect you to refund the money- I see you are in a precarious financial situation and you need it badly. No problem- for me it`s a peanut.

Another thing is: Our characters are total opposites and this is a reason why we`ll never get on well with each other. I think you are shy,extremely sensitive, complicated and I am very self confident , what may give to a person like you an impression of rudeness. Other thing is, I live in a posh part of *European city name* in an elegant apartment- so, sorry, but I was shocked seeing  your  street, the house and the apartment where you have received me. I was very annoyed about the fact, you made me come and waste my time in vain. I was expecting to meet you in a well- equipped dungeon and sorry-not in a shabby apartment. To be honest, I was scared to get into the house.

t`s true,I don`t live in London, but I have a pretty good idea which parts are elegant and which not- believe me. Canary Wharf with its sky scrapers make a good impression but it`s still not Belgravia or South Kensington. East End was always known as a concentration of immigrants, poverty and criminality. Of course,everything is changing- Canary Wharf is the best example, but bohemian or not, East End was first of all poor.

As you see, our priorities and tastes are completely different. Actually I did not expect a professional dominatrix to be so exceptionally sensitive. It is a handicap but I know, you can`t change. Actually your amazing lack of self-confidence and basic psychology surprises me deeply. Being a good domina requires a certain psychological skills- that`s why some succeed and others fail. I`ve supposed to call you before booking- after a short chat, we`d realised a meeting has no sense and it would prevent us both from a very unpleasant experience.

Good luck,
Maria”

Wow. What kind of fool was this, who believed her own, self-invented hype? Could this raving moron be for real?

A basic search on her email address (yes, Mistresses do those things with undesirables) showed that she works for a estate agent. Obviously, her narrow minded view of the world is limited to the specifics of brick and mortar, houses, postcodes. Amazingly, in her world, a Dominatrix and a house (and its surrounding streets and neighborhood) are xactly the same thing. You’d never think you’d have to explain to anyone the difference between a Mistress and, say, a semi-detached family dwelling in Dorking, but hey, it takes all sorts and we are talking certified lunacy here. With a touch of delusions of grandeur.

At my studio last wednesday, all I could see was a highly strung hysterical woman shouting abuse and ordering me around as if I was her servant. Clearly, sympathetic magic is strong in her imaginary: you order people around, and presto, you’ve got service. Just like the primitive, unsophisticated cave men.

She “expected to see a full equipped dungeon”. I don’t have a dungeon, that’s clearly explained on my website if you care to read: MsTytania’s Docklands Studio, with pictures. You too can pity its “shabby, poor, POOR!!” decoration and shocking lack of equipment, by looking at the photo galleries. It’s all there. I’m not selling real estate Maria, I’m a Dominatrix. You are the estate agent and clearly, you have no other identity to see the world through.

Coincidentally, I wrote a blog a few weeks ago, about the snobbish obsession with postcode: Location, Location. Maybe it was karma I had to cleanse in some way. After many years building my reputation as Ms Tytania, I’ve learnt that some people should do the rest of us a favour and stay in their  dull day job. It takes a certain kind of woman to be a Dominatrix and postcode makes no difference to your talent and dedication. If you are  a snob, leave BDSM to those who have sensitivity for it because, yes, you need a good dose of empathy and sensitivity to be a good Dominatrix. The shouting, highly strung Cruella de Ville is a cartoon character created to scare children, not to dominate grown up men.

But Maria isn’t even original in her ignorance of what Female Domination is about. She is one in an ugly sea of posing bitches who understand nothing of the complexity of a Dominant woman. I’ve  had the misfortune of meeting many ranting upstarts like her in the long years I’ve been a Dominatrix. They come and go, they are interchangeable in their moronic behaviour, their airs and graces. Like her, they walk into dungeons, houses, supermarket car parks, clubs and parties… giving orders, expecting the world to obey their will. Then, fooled by the usual sycophants who know how to play them for their delusions, and mystified by the refusal of the world to revolve around them, they disappear without trace, in the same angry red cloud they appeared in.

Putting a “Mistress”  label on you, will not magically turn a dull individual into a fascinating, sensual Goddess. Our naive Maria knows one thing or two about brick and mortar, it’s her day job after all. But given the poor qulith of her assessment of Dommes, I’d advise her to leave Domination to the experts, those with a proven trackable record as Mistresses. Only ignorants dare to judge and comment on what they know nothing about.

October 15, 2011 | Categories: bdsm, BDSM studio, Canary Wharf Mistress, Dungeon furniture, femdom, fetish, Fetish dungeon, Humilliation, Kink, London Dungeon, London Mistress, Ms Tytania, Pilllory, Professional Dominatrix, Tytania | Leave A Comment »