Give a man a gun does it make him a soldier?

Give a woman a whip does it make her a Dominatrix?

 

I’ve got whips.

Whips, chains, paddles, floggers, riding crops, canes, ropes, pin wheels, pegs, chastity devices, padlocks, spreader bars, nipple clamps, cock rings & things to zap you.

Collars, cuffs, hand cuffs, leg cuffs, leads & hoods. And the list goes on & grows on.

I’ve got the attitude to use them.

 

I’ve got outfits.

PVC, latex, business, sports, uniforms, lingerie, dresses, leggings, girl next door & vamp you would never dare approach.

I’ve got the body to wear them.

 

I’ve got shoes & boots.

Trust me I’ve got shoes & boots; shoes & boots that will make you go weak at the knees.

And feet that will make you salivate.

 

I’ve got furniture.

A throne, a foot stool (for when I’m not using you), a St Andrews cross, a whipping bench, wrestling mats, a cage where you can curl up & thank your lucky stars.

And I’ve got a simple little eye bolt on the ceiling which I adore.

 

I’ve got premises.

Call it what you will. I call it my playroom. It’s just off Junction 8 of the M27.

I’ll tell you more when you need to know.

 

But the most powerful tool I possess.

The one that sets me apart from the charlatans & wannabes.

Sits right here in my head.