Review by Sub M

I enter the door to start the journey. Not really sure what I was expecting exactly, but not this. I'd expected beautiful, how could I not, I'd seen her pictures, but she is definitely, instantly, and unmistakably more beautiful than I could have imagined. Beautiful, in an almost other-worldly sense.

We chat for a minute, she talks, she explains the first things that are going to happen. This continues as the session evolves. I'm never "told" to do something, its more just a constant explanation of what is going to happen. A subtle and intoxicating slide into submission. We chat more, and I talk, more than I ever normally do, about things I never normally talk about. She's calm and in control, and I've only just met her - but i trust her with my boundaries, and with my thoughts. The session continues, and its hard to explain. There isn't one thing that stands out, because there was never just one thing happening. Different sensations, different feelings, and different emotions - constantly cresting and declining at different timbres and tempos. I lose track of pleasure and pain, of up and down, of pretty much everything.

Then as I think the session is winding down, it changes directions again, it's equal parts confusing and exhilarating. I get completely lost in the session, but know afterwards, that I've found a guide for a journey i'm excited about.


Review by Sub J

We live a life of media blitz and image inundation, and as a result it is easy to forget that, whether moving and with sound, or simply still shots, images are not reality. Nothing brings that truism home more than when Mistress Lucy enters a room.

One glance at Mistress Lucy in the flesh, and I completely understand why the ancients built great temples to female beauty, lugging massive chunks of granite and marble by the sweat of their backs up steep mountain trails. Mistress Lucy’s ethereal beauty commands such devotion.

But do not be deceived by this petite beauty’s delicate features and ideal curves. Mistress Lucy is a madcap sadist, gleeful in play, stern with her hand on a whip, and possessed of a physical strength that simply should not exist in such a tiny package. Sessions with Mistress Lucy are both explorations and therapy. On more than one occasion, Mistress Lucy has savaged my body while salvaging my soul.


Review by Sub M

It's five minutes to two on a Friday afternoon. With my light lunch over, I run through my mental checklist again: showered, shaved, groomed, my toiletries bag packed, my schedule blocked off for the rest of the day. By now you'd think this would be more routine than ritual, but it isn't; I still get nervous every time I see Lucy.

Breathe, I tell myself.

A year ago this would've just been another wild daydream born out of a twenty year old fantasy, the kind of thing you know happens--but not to you. Today though, it's reality. My reality. Today, I get to submit to a woman so electrifying that the air practically crackles when she enters the room. She is imaginative and playful and intoxicating, every bit the flame to my moth. And, even though she can flay me open with just a glance, I always feel safe.

For me that's where my BDSM journey began: wanting to feel safe. As a cynic and an introvert, it's always been hard to separate the safety given by others from the safety I've given myself by building up walls and pushing people away. But in forfeiting parts of myself to Lucy--my ability to move or to hear or to speak or to resist--I forfeit the opportunity the build *any* wall or push *anyone* away. It forces me to be open, to trust. To be myself and nothing more.

I stare into the mirror and look myself in the eyes. Time to go.

Outside the streets are full of people playing parts and wearing masks. Maybe that's what they think of me, too. But inside I know I've never felt more myself in my life.


Review by Sub L

A session with Mistress Lucy is something that everyone should experience. Mistress Lucy wasted no time coming in and laying down the law.

After allowing me to spend a few minutes rubbing and massaging her feet, she continuously tested my limits and thoroughly enjoyed watching me scream as she increased the voltage, somehow knowing that I loved every second of it! Mistress would at points smother my face with her feet while shocking me, sending a mixture of pain and pleasure pulsating through my body and brain. Somehow Mistress Lucy knew exactly how much I could take and always went just as my body could take – and then some, knowing that’s exactly what I wanted.

What made this session complete was Mistress Lucy allowing me to shower and clean up and then having a discussion about how the session went, and our opinions and thoughts on BDSM in general.


Review by Sub M

"So, are you scared of me?" asks Mistress Lucy.

She's dressed in a pared-down nurse's ensemble made of latex so white that it's blinding. I'd only met her for a moment and I'm surprised how calm I feel in her presence, even as she secures me to the table with a spider's web worth of nylon rope.

"I knew you'd ask that," I tell her. She cinches shut the leather mittens encasing my hands. "And I wouldn't say 'scared'. The word I'd use is... 'intimidated'."

But even that word doesn't seem to fit anymore. For the past ten minutes we've chatted about everything from philosophy to friendships to Mistress Lucy's personal playlist that we're listening to at that very moment. It makes me feel like I've known her for years.

Testing the ropes, I draw in a slow, deep breath; there's enough give for that but not much else. "...and you have a reputation as someone who's not afraid to demand what she wants."

Obsidian eyes glance my way as I speak. "It, uh, matches your personality type," I add.

Melancholy trip-hop vocals fill the room with diffused layers of emotion and sound. Mistress Lucy hums along with the music as she walks over to my side and snatches my nipple between her fingers. "If I'm remembering correctly, you're quite sensitive."

"Yes," I squeak.

Mistress Lucy nods. "Well then, how about a trade?" she asks. "I'll spare your nipples if you give me something I want in return." She pinches my flesh between her thumb and forefinger.

"Okay, okay," I say, wincing in pain. "Whatever you want!"