How I fell in Love with Being a Mistress find out how I discovered my alter ego Mistress Camille!!!

 I fell in love with objectification as a fetish when I was a child and I would sit on older males backs like a chair, stand on their feet and make them crawl like a dog and support my feet while I kicked back and wanted to elevate them for comfort and a certain entitled bratty satisfaction. Yes, I was and still can be a big brat, but thankfully now I am mindful of who I direct my brat potential towards: only the consenting and the grateful of course. I first discovered that l could actually become a professional Dominatrix after l watched a documentary called"Fetishes" highlighting the work of  the Dominatrices in a prominent NYC dungeon called Pandora’s Box. I watched in awe as a beautiful, commanding, woman named Mistress Raven calmly ashed her cigarette into the mouth of a very well-trained and well-behaved human ashtray, and I noticed how matter-of-fact this relationship dynamic and form of servitude was. I admired how happily and obediently her trained human object performed this task. I knew then in that very moment that I would become like Mistress Raven. I knew then that it was my destiny to become a professional Dominatrix and explore this incredibly compelling dynamic of power play and objectification.

In my work as a professional Dominatrix, the first human object that I had the pleasure of exploring with was, of course, a human ashtray. To my delight I found myself in a commercial dungeon in the Bay Area just a year after viewing that documentary, emulating my heroine Mistress Raven as I calmly ashed my cigarette into the open and grateful mouth of my session slave. The objectification helped him to focus his mind and to surrender to the psychodrama, and then gain access to the resultant post-surrender bliss in the wake of the ordeal. Not all objectification fantasies are so wild or intricate, and yet some are much, much more so. But, objectification can be simple and sweet, and involves varying degrees of embarrassment, humiliation, or degradation. I have found myself utterly delighted to have been offered a human body as a foot stool for a full hour while I read and drink coffee, the little lump of flesh and bones shifting ever so slightly on the bricks of my side-yard patio, inspiring an opportunity to correct and train it. I have enjoyed strapping my favorite "Humiliator" mouth gag to many of my slave trainees' faces, allowing me to affix an assortment of objects to them in order to put them to good use as a toilet brush, a feather duster, a drink holder, a boot brush, and a toilet paper roll holder among other things. I have also enjoyed sprawling my submissive pet across the cold cement floor in a heap in front of the heater so that I could sit comfortably upon its warm flesh while I perched perfectly positioned to achieve full heat absorption potential, and granting my object-servant a few ass-pats of satisfaction for doing so well underneath me.

In the memories of my experiences training humans to be objects, I notice a certain common energetic texture to these situations that I'm quite fond of. For me it involves getting my trainee out of their head, facilitating feats of endurance and commitment, testing loyalty and devotion, and providing connection elevated beyond the need for words, body language, and communication otherwise. Sometimes these experiences are playful and hilarious, other times they're just the right level of degrading, and other times they are quiet and sweet. What I notice in those quiet, sweet moments while training my footstool, vase, or candelabra is gorgeous timelessness, and in this lack of temporality is our delicately suspended human energy, mingling, elated, over mundane moments transmuted into magic through embarrassment, devotion, absurdity, and presence.