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?