Sometimes life feels within one’s control, as if you are at the helm, steering life’s direction, while at other times it is as if  life’s current is pulling you to its will. The Dominas Realm was the rock I was being pulled towards, and Mistress Cleo - the strong-willed siren. 

First, there  was a friend of mine who knew of my “tendencies”, and also my desire to write a novel about a dominatrix, and suggested half-jokingly, that I should seek an evening position in a dungeon, to quench my thirst for knowledge. Soon after, I was at a birthday party in Fitzroy and the party was dotted by dominatrixes within the crowd, there to honour the lovely Mistress Amara Dolce. Interestingly enough the Mistresses were identifiable by their feminine power, their beauty, their intelligence, their humour and strength, even before I was officially introduced. Several “dirty French martinis” later, and I was in engaging conversation with one of them, sharing stories and laughs. “You should come to our dungeon and we could put you to good use”, she remarked. And then a third night, I was in Polly Bar in Fitzroy bar, sitting across from one of their most illustrious kind, Mistress Electra, who was meeting with a client, and exerting her power to have him kiss her shoe in clear sight in the middle of the public arena.

I agonised back and forth before sending off an approach to the head Mistress Cleo, whom I had never met. As one friend in the scene advised me well, “it’s not a good look to waste a Mistress’s time. You have to be sure of what you want.” And was I sure? Yes, I was sure of what I wanted. What I wasn’t sure about is whether I had the courage to go through with the course.

I finally sent off an application to Mistress Cleo, of the Dominas Realm. But then heard nothing for several weeks. Unsure of whether my message had been received or not – I phoned to check. And I was invited to the dungeon the next day, into the lair of the dominatrices.

There I met with Mistress Cleo, a  captivating woman – petite in frame, and grand in power. Her exotic features were of mixed ancestry, and her eyelids drawn out by black kohl, somewhat Indian, somewhat Egyptian, hard to place down. Stroppy and strong, and takes no prisoners. Well actually that’s not true, she does of course take prisoners. Indeed one was locked up in a cage in the hallway, collared and entrapped as if an animal of the house.

She laid out the framework and reality of the training. One year, of watching and helping, absorbing the scenes swirling around and soaking it all in like a sea sponge. There would be little or no payment, but rather the privilege of being taught by some of the best dominatrices in Australia. And for me the knowledge and insight on offer was greater than that offered at any university, the subversive secrets of people’s deepest desires and needs. So began my new course… of training and caning at the Dominas Realm.