Hi! My name is Joni. I’m a staff writer for the New Orleans Chronicle-Review. In a continuing series of stories examining the sex trade in New Orleans and the surrounding areas, I am going where no reporter has ever gone before. I’ve visited the seedy backrooms of massage parlors, the dark corners of strip clubs, the dirty and often dangerous interiors of adult theaters and the horrific world of streetwalkers. This week I am learning about the dark realm of the dominatrix and the submissive. I won’t lie, I think this entire concept is a little absurd, but I’m not here to judge others. I’m here to learn about the entirely alien extreme world of sadomasochism. These are my notes for the upcoming newspaper article.
I first met “Mistress” Caitlin a little over two weeks ago. She was billed as an “Exhibitionist and SM Dominatrix.” She came to me highly recommended. When I first saw Caitlin, I couldn’t believe she could dominate anyone. Although very beautiful, she is shorter than me, but she has to be forty pounds heavier. But when I look into her eyes, I can see why she is apparently so good at what she does. The powerfully built woman with long black hair has striking brown eyes that can see deep into your very soul. She tilts her head to one side as a sly smile crosses her lips as if to say, “I see your fear.” I’m completely disconcerted by her eyes and her smile.
Our first meeting was in a small diner at St. Charles and Nashville Ave near Audubon Park. I took ‘Mistress’ Caitlin’s outstretched hand, but I was still disconcerted by her gaze. After a few tense moments, I gathered my composure and we sat down to talk. Before I could say anything, the mistress grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the table. She leaned so far across the table our faces were nearly touching. She whispered to me, and I’m not going to lie, I was completely floored! I started perspiring and it seemed like I couldn’t catch my breath. I tried to pull my wrists away, but I couldn’t budge. I won’t say I was scared, but I was extremely uncomfortable. Not only because I couldn’t move arms, but because that gaze was back. She was looking deep inside me. She really could see my fear. Her whispered words still echoed in my mind. I still couldn’t catch my breath. She released my wrists and sat back in her chair. As my breathing slowly steadied, her whispered words still rang with a like a toll, “You would make a wonderful victim.”
Our first meeting didn’t go very well, although I’m sure she enjoyed it. I couldn’t even ask a single question. Hell, I couldn’t even formulate a complete thought! She dominated the entire afternoon. We parted after a two-hour interview and she rocked my world one last time after we arranged a second interview for two days later. Although I was trying to keep my distance, she grabbed my wrists again, leaned forward until our faces almost touched and she whispered, “It’s going to be so much fun breaking you.” Her lips brushed mine ever so slightly and then she stood up and walked away, never taking her disconcerting gaze off of me.
As I prepared for our second meeting, I told myself I wouldn’t allow the “Mistress” to control things. This is my interview, and I’m not ready to allow her to drag me into her twisted little game. I committed myself to gathering to information for my story. If she wouldn’t cooperate, then I’d just walk away. There are other dominatrixes in New Orleans. But the second interview went much like the first. This time we met in a small bistro in the Vieux Carre (that’s the French Quarter to all you Mississippians). I learned just what she wanted me to know about her profession. She gave me some theory why some people like to dominate and others want to be dominated. The entire victimization concept is foreign to me, but I’ve always considered myself a forceful person. But it is impossible for me to be forceful with a force such as Mistress Caitlin in the room. I was completely at her will. I told myself this is the last time I will meet this woman. I’ll just get the rest of my information off the Internet. But I quickly agreed to come to ‘dungeon’ to witness a ‘session’ two days later.
The two days went by way too fast. I didn’t know if I was dreading the meeting, or if I was excited about the opportunity. One thing is sure, I really didn’t know what to expect.
My excitement grew along with my apprehension as I drove to an address in the Garden District. It was a dull, dreary day in New Orleans, typical for November. The temperature was still a balmy 80 degrees but there were rain clouds off to the west and edging closer to the city. It would be a treacherous, but always exciting, late afternoon drive home.
When I reached my destination, I was genuinely surprised. The Garden District is famous for having some of the oldest, most elegant mansions in the South, if not in the whole United States. This house had to be one of the best of the best. It was huge! It was also well taken care of. Rolling, well-manicured lawns and late blooming hyacinths flanked the mansion. Several Live Oaks bordered the property and they were webbed with Spanish moss draped from their limbs. I pulled my car to the crest of a long, circular drive and parked. Mine was the only car in front of the beautiful old house.
I nervously get out of my car and walk up the walk to the elegant mansion. As I near the front door, it suddenly swings slowly open and I find myself face to face with a man of about twenty-five. He looks at me as if trying to remember my face and he says in a soft, almost feminine, voice that seems strange coming from him, “You must me Ms DeJarlais.” I nod that I am. “Right this way, ma’am.” I enter the finely decorated home and the man closes the door. As he walks past me, I size him up. He has to be near 6’5” and weigh close to 280 lbs. He looks like he could play defense for the Saints! He’s huge! “Please come this way, ma’am. Mistress Caitlin is waiting for you.” The tall blond-haired man leads me down a long hallway and into a warm sitting room. Waiting in a plush, comfortable chair is Mistress Caitlin, and she is dressed like I would imagine a dominatrix would be.
Mistress Caitlin slowly rises from the chair as I enter and greets me like we are old friends. “Ms. DeJarlais, thank you for coming today. I want you to witness what this world is all about. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed in the least.”
It takes me a moment to regain my composure as I’m confronted with one of the strangest, albeit one of the most memorable, sights I have ever seen. Although she is only 5’1” and probably weighs 160 lbs, Mistress Caitlin looks to me like a giant….or an mythical Amazon warrior. She is clad only in a black leather corset, a black leather rivet skirt and black ankle boots with a heel at least five inches tall. She looks as if she is about to burst out of the top of her corset and I can’t help but stare is shocked awe! After a moment, her voice shakes me from my stupor, “They are 34EE. Impressive, aren’t they?”
My face flames red from embarrassment, but before I can say anything, Mistress Caitlin turns to the man who led me in, “That will be all, Roger. I’ll be down shortly. Make sure all is ready when I get there.” He bows slightly, “Yes, Mistress,” and he closes the sitting room doors as he leaves.
As the doors softly click shut, I find myself face to face with the ‘Mistress.’ I can’t help but wonder why I’m here. What is it she wants me to see? Curiosity finally gets the best of me and I blurt out, “What exactly is it you want me to witness?” She responds, “My dear, I want you to witness how I can break another woman.”
At first this statement strikes me as being absurd. How the hell do you ‘break’ someone? Like you would break a horse? Do you break their bones? What does all this mean? Then it occurs to me that she is deeply serious! She intends to ‘break’ someone. The reality of the comment finally sinks deep into my brain and I start backing towards the door. “Oh no, oh no, oh no….I’m not playing your little games. I just came to finish an interview.” The ‘Mistress’ has an amused look on her face as I back away, but finally she says with a smirk, “Not you. Not yet, anyway. I’m breaking someone who doesn’t think she can be broken. You, on the other hand, you think you can be broken. That’s why you’re in denial.”
Suddenly anger flares up in me. How dare she talk to me like this! “What are you talking about?” I demand. My voice raises an octave with each word. Mistress Caitlin never stops smiling nor does she break eye contact with me, “You will be a fun one to break. Your type always is. But first, let me show you my dungeon before you talk yourself out of being here.” With that, Mistress Caitlin walks past me to the doors. As she passes me, she ever so slightly brushes against me. The act could have been purely accidental, but I have no doubt that it was a challenge. “Why am I here?” I think to myself. “Follow me,” Mistress Caitlin demands.
I follow Caitlin down a different hallway than the one I first traveled. This one is much shorter and it ends at a beautiful ornamental iron spiral staircase. Caitlin looks over her shoulder to make sure I haven’t fled the house and she descends the staircase. I follow and after a few twisting turns, I find myself in one of the strangest rooms I have ever encountered. Now I wish I had run screaming from the house. The room looks like a medieval torture chamber conjured from the mind of Stephen King.
There were whips on the wall. Restraint devices bolted next to the rack of whips. There was a medical table covered with black vinyl in one corner. A small cage sat in another. There were wooden paddles hanging from hooks placed at intervals throughout the room. But most disturbing of all was the large ‘spider’s web’ made from chain and set into steel piping on one side of the room. There were two chained cuffs hanging from the top of the web….obviously where a victim trapped in Mistress Caitlin’s web would dangle. Now I think it’s time to flee and never come back. I turn to the door and come face to face with Roger. “Let me show you to your seat, Ms. DeJarlais.”
Roger leads me to a small chair tucked away in a corner. The room spreads out in front of me with a curious open space covered by fitness mats. I can’t help but wonder what this is all about for the hundredth time since arriving.
I sit for a few minutes and then Mistress Caitlin, who disappeared down a short hallway when we first came to the ‘dungeon,’ suddenly reappears. She is still dressed in her leather corset but she has removed her short skirt and her ankle boots. The corset and a black thong are the only items covering her buxom body. She is also carrying a riding crop. I nervously smile when I see the whip, and just to have something to break the tension, “What’s the crop for?” She smiles another disconcerting smile and replies, “Nothing right now. But it will have a big role in the after party.”
I’m still confused and now a little flustered. What is this all about and what does it have to do with me? I just came here for a story. It seems our fair ‘Mistress’ has much more than that in mind. Seeing my inability to grasp the situation, Mistress Caitlin finally lays the plan out for me.
“Ms. DeJarlais. I asked you here today because you wanted to see what it is this realm is all about. It is very simple really. People come to me because they want to feel what it’s like to be totally helpless. Sometimes they come to live out fantasies of fighting back against aggressors. I, of course, represent darkness and oppression. They see me as a great evil. These people may have religious convictions that they feel they must be punished for and they can’t wait to get to Hell for that punishment. This may be a little taste of purgatory for them. But others come to me because they like to be afraid. These are the people who gasp when the masked killer appears in horror movies. They are the ones who most associate Darth Vader with evil more than Adolph Hitler because Darth Vader is the face of evil in their generation. They want to know what real fear is, so they come to me. Some have even tied fear, pain and suffering into sexual gratification. They don’t want to try anything extreme like autoerotic asphyxiation, so they come to me for gratification because they know they can walk away. Some come to me because they just like to be dominated. But a few come to me to see if they can be ‘broken.’ By broken, I mean physically, sexually, and psychologically. I think you fall into that last group,” a wicked grin crosses her face, “but that is for another time.”
My mind runs the gamut from confusion to consternation to anger and finally back to confusion. What is this all about? Why am I here? This is going way beyond an interview. But Mistress Caitlin finally explains what will happen in a few short moments. “Sometimes people come to me just as an a simple fantasy. Simply, as an escape from the pressures of the very frightening real world. Sometimes this fantasy is secret to them. Sometimes that secret gets out. You’d be very surprised how often I get threats from wives, girlfriends, lovers, etc. But I had never been threatened by an ex-wife until recently. It seems that one of submissives has an ex-wife who falls into the category of ‘lover.’ She seems very determined to keep her ex-husband away from me. She has even gone as far as come to this house and threaten me. I believe her exact words were, ‘pull my hair out by the roots.’ So, I invited her to come today and make good on that promise. To my surprise, she agreed. My dearest Joni, you are going to witness me ‘break’ someone who doesn’t believe she can be broken. Or you will see me get the beating of my life. Either way, I think you’ll have some fine material for your article.”
Before I have a chance to let any of this sink in, I hear footsteps descending the spiral staircase. Caitlin smiles and says, “I think our other guests have arrived.”
I sit with rapt attention as the footfalls near the basement floor. Three people walk off the staircase. One, of course, is Roger. The other is a man. The third is the woman who Caitlin must have been talking about ‘breaking.’ I make this assumption based on the fact that she screams, “You fucking Bitch,” at Caitlin and rushes toward her, but Roger and the other man quickly restrain her.
The smile on Caitlin’s face becomes even wider as she turns back to me. “Joni, I’d like you to meet Johnny and Valerie. Johnny has been coming to me for quite awhile now. Valerie recently found out and she doesn’t like our arrangement. For some reason she is offended by me and out of jealousy, she has offered to best me physically. I accepted her challenge. Today, we shall see if she can follow through with her threats.”
The other woman kept yelling threats and insults at Caitlin until she noticed me in the corner. “Who the fuck is that? Johnny? Who is that bitch? Another one of these freaks?”
Caitlin finally turns her attention to her adversary and calmly says, “Ms. DeJarlais is just a witness. She will stay here and not interfere. Unless you’d prefer there are no witnesses to your destruction?”
“Fuck you!” Valerie fires back. “She can watch me kick your ass as long as she wants. If she tries to stop me, I’ll kick her ass too!”
The smile never leaves Caitlin’s face and she finally says, “Since you are so prepared to harm me, then lets see if you can. These are the rules. We fight until one of us gives up. There are no holds barred. If I win, you join Johnny and me for a session. If you win, you can humiliate me anyway you want. Do you accept those rules?”
“Fuck you! You see this wedding ring? Johnny’s mine and you’re gonna leave him alone when I’m through with you!”
“I take that terse response as a yes. Then let’s begin.”
It was obvious that Valerie came dressed to fight. She had on a black t-shirt, red jogging shorts and running shoes. She sees that Caitlin is barefooted, so she takes her shoes and socks off too. She mumbles, “Don’t want the bitch saying I was unfair.” She walks to the center of the padded area and faces Caitlin.
“Are you ready?” Caitlin inquires.
I assume that Valerie is ready. I finally get a good look at her. She is a little shorter than Caitlin, which makes me the tallest woman in the room for the first time in my life. I jot that down! Valerie is also giving up at least fifty pounds to Caitlin. This is an obvious mismatch. But what Valerie lacks in stature she more than makes up in attitude. She also has the temperament to go along with her short red hair. If she fights half as well as she curses and insults, she’ll beat Caitlin in no time.
“Damn right I’m ready you fucking bitch!”
With that, Valerie launches herself at Caitlin and the two latch onto each other’s hair and start yanking and twisting. The size difference soon becomes readily apparent. Caitlin pulls Valerie into her body and shoves her forcefully back by the head. Valerie loses her grip on Caitlin’s hair and Caitlin repeats the same move. The second shove sends Valerie tumbling to the mats and Caitlin is quickly upon her. She tries to pin the smaller woman to the floor, but Valerie struggles to free herself. She manages to grab one of Caitlin’s wrists, and she punches the bigger woman in the face at the same time. Caitlin retreats from her attack and scoots quickly away from the still cursing Valerie.
Although I’ve never witnessed a spectacle like this before, I can’t look away even though I’m repulsed at what I’m seeing. But oddly enough, I’m also a little excited by it. I can’t believe that something like this would draw me so deeply in. What is going on with me?
Caitlin starts to rise to her knees, but the quicker, more agile Valerie is on her before she can. Several punches and hard slaps force Caitlin to cover her head and bury her face in the mat. Sensing that victory was at hand, Valerie moves in for the kill, but she doesn’t realize her mistake until it’s too late. As she nears Caitlin, the leather clad woman lunges against her foe’s knees and knocks her to the mats. Caitlin shows that she is quicker than she looks and she is soon straddling the smaller woman and raining punches and slaps down on the trapped woman’s face and head.
As the blows came down on her from all angles, the agile Valerie was able to raise her legs just enough to wrap them around Caitlin’s head. She pulls downward with her thighs and manages to get Caitlin off balance long enough to squirm free. The two women slide away from one another and quickly regroup.
One thing is quickly becoming apparent as this spectacle unfolds before me. Valerie isn’t at all intimidated by the large leather clad Caitlin. Nor is she a meek pushover. Another thing that is apparent is that Caitlin is no slouch either. She has taken a tremendous amount of punishment in a short period of time and she has answered with violent attacks of her own. I’m not sure I could take either one of them if I had to. I’m not a fighter. The very prospect scares me, but if I had to choose, I think I would opt to fight Caitlin. There’s just something about the thought of being in a close struggle with her…What the Hell is wrong with me? I’m a reporter! I didn’t come here to fight anyone! Damn, I need some fresh air.
Soon both women have regrouped enough to continue the battle. Valerie scrambles to her feet and wades into Caitlin as she too rises to her feet. Both women appear to be apprehensive…neither wants to storm in like before and risk failure. Instead they search for the right distance to strike out against their adversary yet be able to safely protect themselves from impending harm.
They stand toe to toe and exchange blows until Caitlin finally gets brave and wades into her foe. She snares Valerie’s head and steps into a side headlock. Valerie begins tugging and pulling in an attempt to free herself, but she isn’t stupid enough to think she can match Caitlin with strength. She knows she would only tire herself out quicker. She stops struggling and begins punching the bigger woman in the side and thighs relentlessly. Caitlin begins trying to twist the smaller Valerie to the floor. Valerie also knows that if Caitlin gets her down in this position, the fight could end rather badly for her. She intensifies her relentless pounding and widens her feet for more balance.
Caitlin senses what Valerie is doing and she starts throwing punches of her own into the trapped woman’s face. Soon, blood is dribbling down Caitlin’s arm from Valerie’s nose. The smaller woman’s punches are losing their intensity but she still tries to keep up her strategy. After a few more punches, Caitlin changes her tact and hip tosses Valerie hard to the mats. Valerie lands on her back with a thud and the air explodes from her lungs as the large Caitlin lands on top of her. Valerie is still trapped in the headlock but she is now under Caitlin.
I am now in complete shocked awe as the two women beat each other to a near pulp. Their resilience is amazing! The intensity of their struggle takes my breath away. It is almost as if I can feel each blow they land. But it is apparent that Valerie is all but finished. Caitlin is now in complete control and she has almost successfully overpowered the smaller woman. Although Valerie still has her fighting spirit. She is still mumbling curses and threats at the larger woman, but they don’t have the same zeal they had earlier.
Valerie continues to struggle but her escape attempts and her punches are getting weaker and weaker as the larger woman is slowly crushing her. Caitlin continues to drive punch after punch into Valerie’s trapped face and head. Soon, Valerie gives up her attempts at escape and just tries to protect herself from Caitlin’s onslaught. Caitlin senses that victory is near and she releases the headlock and sits up. Before Valerie can recover though, the bigger woman uses her weight to push the redhead’s shoulders to the mat and pin her. Next, Caitlin works one knee over her victim and completes a straddle. She pins Valerie’s arms with her knees. Valerie briefly struggles, but she is all but beaten. Like a shark ready to attack, Caitlin senses ‘blood in the water.’ She starts slapping the beaten woman across the cheeks and demands her total surrender. Valerie refuses to submit, and Caitlin continues her vicious assault. Soon, Valerie is a sobbing wreck, but she refuses to give in.
I cannot believe the resilience and will of the smaller woman as she is completely broken down. It is only a matter of time before she gives in or before she is beaten unconscious. I’m torn between hoping she’ll give up to end the torture or hoping she’ll pass out and save some dignity. I honestly can’t say what I’d do if I were in Valerie’s position. I like to think I’d never find out. But a nagging feeling keeps telling me that someday I’ll find out if I’m the dominant or the submissive. I can’t shake the thought. The question of what Valerie will do is soon answered, however.
As slap after slap rains down on her, Valerie finally can take no more. She whimpers her submission, but Caitlin doesn’t stop her attacks right away. She continues to strike the smaller woman over and over as a wicked smile turns her face into a mask of pure bloodlust. After a few moments, she does stop and stand over the beaten woman.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was relieved that the fight was finally over. But to my horror, Caitlin is far from done.
Caitlin smiles down at the fallen redhead and then she cruelly drives her bare heel into Valerie’s belly. When Valerie tries to sit up and protect her midsection, Caitlin lifts her knee and strikes her victim under the chin. Valerie’s head snaps back and she collapses to the floor. The blow wasn’t powerful enough to knock her out, but I’m sure Valerie soon wishes it had rendered her unconscious.
Caitlin grabs Valerie by her red hair and drags her to a sitting position. She continues pulling and she forces Valerie’s head down toward her thighs. Caitlin then reaches down and pulls the back of Valerie’s t-shirt up and wrestles it over her head. The beaten woman is now topless. Caitlin cackles an evil laugh and says, “My God! Look at those pitiful little breasts! We’ll have to see if we can stretch them out for you a little.” Then she painfully pinches each nipple between her thumb and forefinger and twists.
I wish I could cover my ears as Valerie’s pitiful screams echo throughout the room. I decide I cannot watch anymore and I lower my head. But soon I hear Caitlin’s voice, “Oh, we are going to have some fun tonight, aren’t we?” I lift my eyes, and to my horror, Caitlin is looking at me with her evil smile. I knew it was time to leave, but how can I do so gracefully? Will she even let me leave?
Caitlin releases her grip on Valerie’s nipples and stands up. She places the sole of her foot on Valerie’s forehead and pushes her backwards. “Clean my feet slave!” She demands. As Caitlin inches her foot in front of Valerie’s mouth, the redhead snaps at her and nearly bites the dominatrix’ bare toes. Caitlin’s foot recoils, but not before she nearly loses a toe. Valerie meekly says, “Fuck you.” But it has nowhere near the conviction it had earlier. Thinking these actions would infuriate Caitlin; I turn away as I expect another attack. But I hear Caitlin laugh instead. I look back at the two women just in time to see Caitlin drive the heel of her foot viciously into Valerie’s unprotected crotch. Valerie gasps in shocked agony and collapses onto her side. As her head hits the mat, Caitlin again demands that her feet be cleaned. After a allowing Valerie a moment to regain her composure, Caitlin forces her toe in the beaten woman’s mouth.
It’s almost like watching a train wreck. I can’t look away. I am utterly amazed as the once proud redhead is forced to kiss, lick and suck another woman’s feet. It finally occurs to me that I’ve witnessed two-thirds of what Caitlin wanted me to see. I’ve seen her ‘break’ Valerie physically and mentally. But I don’t plan on sticking around to watch her get broken sexually. I gather my purse and start walking toward the spiral staircase. Behind me Caitlin’s voice stops me short, “Ms. DeJarlais, give me just a moment and I’ll see you to the door.”
I turn and look at her just as she nods to Roger. Like a good little slave, Roger stands up and walks over to the beaten woman. He picks her up and walks her to the chain spider’s web. Then he snaps a restraint on each of her wrists and softly lets her limp body hang. I feel as if I’m going to be sick.
Caitlin walks to the stairs while wiping herself with a towel. We ascend and head for the front door. “She chose to be here, Joni.”
I turn and stare at Caitlin and anger wells in my chest, “But did she deserve what she got? What she’s getting?”
“Whether she is deserving or not is not of consequence. She knew what she was getting into when she chose to come here. What do you think would happen had she won?”
That’s a very good question. One I don’t really want to ponder too long. “I just want to leave. My story will be in next Sunday’s paper. Don’t expect me to be very kind to you.”
Expecting a rebuke, I get another smile. “Do your worst. My business will triple as a result. Remember, I’m the darkness people want to fear.”
“Whatever. I’m through here.”
“Are you?”
I’m now on the porch, but her question catches me off guard. “What’s that mean?”
“I’d be willing to bet you’ll come back someday. You have demons that need to be exercised.”
“Fuck you.” I start to walk away, but a force shoves me from behind against one of the large porch columns. I try to struggle away, but Caitlin pins me against the column. I turn to face her and she pushes her weight against me. She cups my chin and licks my face from the point of my chin, across my tightly pursed lips and up to my nose.
“Oh yes, you’ll be back. I guarantee it.” She licks her lips, releases me and walks into the house. The door slams shut behind her.
A few days later, my article is published in the Sunday newspaper. As I promised her, I’m not very kind. As she promised, her business triples. I’m left wondering why people let themselves be treated this way. But I’m haunted by dreams of Caitlin’s wicked smile while she approaches me as I dangle in front of a spider’s web.
Author's Note: This story was a request from Johnny the Deuces, who incidentally is a much better writer than I could ever hope to be. I want to thank him for trusting me with this idea and for challenging me to write about a topic I have no clue about. I also want to thank Gemma Rox (my unofficial editor and candidate for Bitch of the Year
) and Mistress Holly (my technical adviser for this story). I luv you both!
I hope you enjoy reading this story just as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Joni
xoxo
