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.