Yes, I am a Dominatrix.

Theme number two is the Real Me versus Octavia. It typically comes up now and then, however recently it has become a near daily occurence. While explaining My phone sessions to a new member of the shop's staff, he replied, "You're a Dominatrix?!?! But you're so nice!" During a phone session,"After reading your blog, I can't decide which relationship to persue with you...a completely debased and humiliated slave or friend." Why not both? I say. I received the sweetest note from another Domme in response to My newest ad on niteflirt, which contains a link to the blog with the proviso not to visit if you can't handle the idea that I am not in a corset and six-inch heels at all times.

I suppose it should be a valid question, which Me is really Me. However I know that one side just isn't quite right without the other. Ask anyone who knows Me IRL how much I needed the outlet BDSM play provides during the time I was "semiretired." Often, My intellect/ability to articulate Myself/or really I guess My personality receive complements while in role. What? Have they never met a Dominatrix who reads before? or laughs at something other than their pathetic penis size?

When it comes down to it, I am grateful to have both lives. Each enriches the other. Too much of any one thing is dangerous (slaves: the preceding comment does NOT apply to your addiction to Me. hehehehe ) When I took My fetish sabbatical back in '99, I was burnt out. There were many factors contributing to why or how I ended up sleeping, breathing, even at times eating ('member Nouvelle Justine?) fetish. I was sleeping at the dungeon while I was between apts and working as a personal assistant for one of Arena's owners. So I slept at the studio, did sessions at night and spent My days coordinating the print and web advertising for (as I often affectionately referred to My co-workers at that time) 20 Diva Bitches as well as tons of prep for our annual event: The Black and Blue Ball. Note: This year's is May 20th.