I wrote a domination article for an independent newspaper called THE ESPRESSO. If you live in San Diego, look for the article in the upcoming paper. If you don’t live in California, you can read it here:
Pour me some kinky
by Isabella Valentine, a Dominatrix and Hypnodomme
Imagine for a moment you are sipping your favorite cappuccino, reading your daily paper and in walks in a Dominatrix with a chain around Her wrist. A few chainlinks away, you see a collared girl with a chain around her neck. If you are like most people, you either: stop reading your paper and drop your jaw, stare in fascination and awe, or roll your eyes and keep reading your paper. For some people, this is outrageous. Yet for others, this is everyday life.
A couple weeks ago, I took it upon Myself to take one of My female slaves to a nearby coffeehouse to get a much-needed caffeine fix. I didn’t take into consideration how other people might react or if I might inadvertently disturb the stomachs of onlookers. Ok I lied - I did take it into consideration. It’s all part of training My sub to obey Me, even in public places. It’s the way I live, the way I work, and just the way I am.
Let Me introduce Myself. I’m Isabella Valentine, a Dominatrix specializing in feminization and erotic hypnosis. For those of you who are rather vanilla and have no clue what I just said, I’ll say it this way. I get paid to dominate men and women to obey Me. I get My kicks dressing men up to look like girls. I also train women to pamper Me and live a submissive lifestyle. When I’m not physically dominating them, I’m hypnotizing them so I can help shape their thoughts and behaviors to enhance their sexual fantasies. I am a certified clinical hypnotherapist and enjoy helping people embrace kinky fetishes such as cuckolding, financial domination, forced feminization, and foot fetishes. That’s right. I get paid to hypnotize people to obey Me.
A Dominatrix is not to be confused with a prostitute. I don’t have sex with My clients. I don’t even allow them to think that way. A submissive is more likely to get a kick to the groin than come anywhere near My unmentionables. I don’t perform on command and certainly don’t perform sexual favors. They come to Me to be dominated. Most of the time I just like ignoring them or using them as foot stools when I watch movies. They pay Me to do that. I am who I am. A Goddess. A Hypnodomme. A Mistress.
For a man with conservative values, being forced to dress like a girl would seem to be his worst nightmare. But for a submissive man with a kinky side, this is often a fantasy come true. People often get stuck in a rut, bored with the same routine. Work. Sleep. Crap. Eat. Work. Commute. Eat. It gets boring. I honestly don’t know how anyone can live that way. I did the corporate thing for a few years, but I’d rather put a blowtorch in my panties than go back to that. Most supervisors, bosses, and executives are some of the most bored people I’ve ever met. They’re not boring. They’re bored. There is a difference.
Men (and women for that matter) can spend so much time at the top that they need someone to pull them back down to reality. And that’s what I do. I strip away their power and control. I treat them the way they truly want and need to be treated. I am not cruel, nor do I secretly despise men. I do this out of love and respect. When I whip a submissive, I stop when I know he or she has had enough. I don’t hit out of anger. I hit because I know it turns them on. I do this because they pay Me to do this. I don’t force men to wear panties because I think they look pretty. I do it because I know they secretly love the idea of being feminized and being turned into a girl. They would rather pay Me to dress them in white lace teddies than risk the embarrassment of asking their wives. Those who have embraced being dominant and/or submissive are lucky to have discovered a whole world that most people will never find.
So back to the coffeehouse. Meet My submissive, lisa, her name purposely lowercased because submissives are not worthy of capitals. lisa had been trained to walk four steps behind Me at all times. she speaks only when allowed. lisa has been thoroughly trained to remember My favorite drinks, foods, and how to order My meals. When I walked in wearing My shiny red corset and long black skirt, a few people looked up and smiled. Four steps later, lisa walked behind Me with chain, eyes lowered. Jaws dropped. Eyes widened. It wasn’t an act. People stared to see if it was a joke or if it was real. Yes, it most certainly was real. If lisa cracked a smile or for one second stepped out of “character,” she would receive 20 lashes of My leather strap (at home) for insubordination. lisa knew better. she remembered the sting of the strap and was always on her best behavior in public. If she found the situation intolerable, she could whisper a safe word to Me (in our case, the word was “ashamed”) and the collar would be temporarily removed until W/we were in private.
At the counter, lisa ordered My drink with an extra shot of espresso. Good girl. I gave her permission to order the same drink for herself. she bowed her head and thanked Me. At that moment, I could sense her fear of eyes behind her. The whispers. The hush. I could feel her trepidation and her inner panic. I rested My hand on her back to acknowledge her good behavior. I felt her exhale. This reassurance from Me was all she needed to feel protected. My hand on her back gave her the calmness she needed to remember this was out of love. In O/our world, W/we are the only two who exist. The others only dissolve. And the two of U/us walked out, leaving the stunned eyes in the room to discover a new truth.
Love
Isabella Valentine
xoxoxoox
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