My name is Katie Towler. I'm 25 years old, 5 foot 6 inches tall, slim,
strong, and I was a ballet dancer in my teens. My hair has been every color
from black to blonde, and the less said about the bubble-gum pink phase in
college, the better. I've finally settled on the shade of dark brown that
matches my blue eyes the best, and took my nose piercing out about two years
ago. I like movies, have a crush on the musician "Pink", go wild for Japanese
food, and my favorite color is crimson red. The dream I've held ever since I
was 16, was to become a television producer and make the digital age's lesbian
version of "Sex in the City". But first, I'm going to tell you the story of how
I ended up having my own sex under the city instead. My name is Katie Towler, I
am a professional dominatrix, and here's a glimpse of how I found my way into
the titillating world of bondage and domination.
******************
Clicking on the remote, the TV popped into life. I typically found
myself mindlessly flicking through the channels these days, yawning widely as
my eyes stung from ten to twelve hours of solid, demanding work. Fetch the
coffee, Katie. Can you call my dry cleaner, Katie? Hey, Cassie ["it's Katie..."]
be a doll and run down to costume for me? Lunch hours and refreshment breaks
were a thing of my glorious and increasingly ancient past. I was tired. More
than just tired, I was exhausted. Yes, I was happy, but more and more I had
been feeling utterly deflated and used up, like that of a woman three times my
age. My mom often called me from Ohio wanting to talk for hours, wanting me to
tell her every last detail about LA. Is the weather nice? Are the people loud,
or friendly, or thin? I genuinely wanted to chat with my mom and update her on
all those little details she yearned for. I wanted to share with her that all
was great, I loved my job, that no, I still wasn't getting paid yet, but I had
learned more in the last 3 months than I had throughout most of college. I wanted
to be home at a reasonable hour, so that I could call my mom and inquire about
life back home. But on those rare evenings that I actually got home on time
without e-mails pinging all over my phone until midnight, I was just too incredibly
tired. After all, I was Katie the intern (or sometimes Cassie the intern), and
what is the intern's place but to do ALL of those things no-one else wants to
do?