By chance, a submissive from Holland happened to call one cold November night in 1997 requesting a phone session. He had seen my advertisement in DDI. He was experienced and had a great deal of cbt gear, so we played Mistress/slave for awhile. Towards the end of our visit he said: "slave requests permission to speak, Mum?" (which is how the English speaking Dutch pronounce Ma'am). I responded "Yes, slave - what is it?" he replied "Are you familiar with the Other World Kingdom, Mum?" I replied "Why yes I am slave, and I would very much like to go there some time!" He said "I would like very much to take you there, Mum!" To this I simply laughed. I didn't even know this person, and I did not travel for anyone.

He began having phone sessions and postal training with me weekly, and I began to take him seriously. I was going to be at the Europerv in Amsterdam shortly before the OWK ceremonies in late May of 1998, and planned then to take a train from Amsterdam to Prague for a week of sight-seeing. I began to entertain the idea of traveling with this submissive from Prague to the OWK. To be this close to OWK and not go would truly be a shame! He could make a nice chauffeur slave. I could control him easily by tying his balls to the steering wheel in the 3 o'clock and 9 o'clock positions. My devious mind began to concoct all sorts of wonderful/horrible torments for this poor creature.

Ultimately, 'slave tom from Holland' did not work out. He worked for army intelligence, and ended up being stationed in Macedonia as a result of the war in Kosavo, Yugoslavia. He could not keep up in his homework and slave duties, so I released him. For my own piece of mind this worked out for the better. I was not willing to share a room at OWK with a client. He would have stayed in the stable at night, and he had been whining about it. He had actually had the nerve to arrange a room for the both of us, and I had to call OWK myself and disarrange this. This little indiscretion of his particularly annoyed me. In lieu of tribute he was supposed to have had two pairs of exotic boots made for me by the Little Shoe Box in London. He had not done this, so 'hasta la vista slave boy'!

When I informed my boyfriend that he would be accompanying me to OWK instead, I expected some resistance. I always have been very bossy with him; I tell him how to dress, what to eat, and I always decide where we go. He cleans, cooks, and takes care of our flock of parrots, and runs endless chores for the studio. Since OWK is so extreme I did not think he would want to do it. I was wrong. He wanted to do it precisely because it seemed extreme. Since I would be in charge of everything (just like at home) he would be fine with it. Looking back on it now, I'm really glad I brought him. The experience at OWK is geared towards couples, and it brought us closer together.

It was difficult to decide what to bring. It's a good thing that our luggage was not searched by customs, because I had to sit on the 4 suitcases to zip them. I ended up purchasing another suitcase full of costumes and equipment at the OWK gift shop, which made the trip back most interesting.

Our flight from Pittsburgh to London had a layover, so we sat in the concourse and listened to the different languages. We counted seven. When we arrived at the airport in Amsterdam we were so disoriented from the flight and time changes that we ended up getting lost! I was astonished to find the locals bumping up against us; what we perceived to be rudeness was just a cultural difference concerning personal space. After finally locating the hotel and noting the difference between European and American accommodations, we had a very nice meal at the hotel restaurant which featured asparagus. My sense of humor emerged and decided that I would give him a golden shower later. (Only for the connesuir of golden showers - ask any Mistress and she will tell you).

That night we spoke to some fellow Americans who had also ventured forward to Europerv; the infamous Robert Flutey (owner of Nut Cracker Suite) and associates, who teased us about our hotel and filled us in on the parties (and after parties) of Europerv. We all met the next evening at the big celebration which took place at the zoo. The demonstrations at Europerv were excellent; there was a Japanese rope bondage display that was the best I had ever seen. I got to meet and play with some very kinky and bazaar people - my favorite was a little shaved pierced Belgian slave boy who's owner had to translate my commands to. There was a lot going on at the party. Everywhere you looked a scene was either in progress or being negotiated. Since the Dutch are so open minded, we got to see a lot of naughty things (that you don't see at our big fetish events here in America.)

The after parties were also eye opening. We visited a club called "Same Place". The women who were so direct they would simply grab my crotch, smile, and ask me to dance. This was so distracting that dancing was, well...rather difficult. To a large extent the after parties were about swinging; every time I approached a woman with a pair of cuffs she would run away from me. My boyfriend had a good time watching me attempt bondage with these women. A bizarre character emerged named 'rubber Deniro', a Robert Deniro impersonator from New York who almost had me fooled. Apparently he was enjoying success with the ladies due to his impersonation. I turned him off however, with my blatant pursuit of something female to play with.

The next day we all dined at an Indian restaurant, and both fascinated and disgusted the staff and other patrons with our rampant scene dialogues. A member of our group spanked a statue, and people seated near us asked to be moved. We had arrived with our gear in backpacks, and ambled off to more parties. The next club was subterranean. The rooms were painted red and featured large bondage furniture. I accidentally walked in on a few things I shouldn't have. OOPS! I wanted to try out some of the bondage I had seen the night before, so I tied up a member of our group and turned him into a couch. I saw Mistress Elizabeth (from Florida), and Fetish Mistress Persephonie. I introduced myself to both and chatted briefly. I ended up having a lengthy conversation with the woman who owned the club. She told me hilarious stories about her sessions there, and how she felt a professional session should end. She vividly accounted sitting in her chair, smoking and looking at her nails, completely ignoring the man who would be masturbating before her. She bragged to me: "They can never manage to do it! No one ever has!" It made me realize how spoiled a lot of my slaves are.

Early the next morning, after no sleep (I slept a total of 12 hours while on this 10 day trip), and much excitement, we boarded a train to Prague. I wanted to see the countryside, and get a feel for this land that was recently behind the iron curtain. The best train ride of the journey was from Berlin to Prague, and I managed to get some rest - though I could not shut my eyes! The views of hillside relics and castles were amazing. There were still plenty of Soviet looking buildings - boring, blocky, and gray. Everywhere we looked we saw construction in progress! Our taxi took us to our hotel in the center of Black City, and I switched rooms in favor of one with a tub. Mistress has to have her daily baths! We did a week of shopping and sightseeing. The torture museum was located on the fourth floor of a building that dates back to the thirteenth century. Everywhere was history, bohemian crystal, and magnificent architecture. The food was most interesting! Since we had been on the train from Berlin, all of the food was pretty unknown to us, so we had a stock nickname: "schnitzengruben", to describe anything we ate. The best food was found in the open air cafes and subterranean restaurants - one of which was a faux cave, complete with stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

A visit to Botanical Gardens taught us something of the history of the royal Czechs in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The clothing was so small; people were almost 2 feet shorter than they are today! The bird collection at Prague zoo was impressive. Local transportation was interesting; not much has changed since the second world war regarding rail systems in Europe. We didn't have any problems getting around, and enjoyed the local dialects and the music of the language.

The morning we were to be picked up by OWK staff, I decided to completely rubberize, and cross-dress george. The hotel staff regarded us with curiosity. We were picked up late by a very nervous German named Michel. He explained that he had been busy that morning shuffling people from the airport and other hotels to OWK. He told me that 146 people would be converging there from all over the world. I asked him who his Mistress was (I wanted him to be punished for being late, and neglecting to open my car door), he turned bright red, and explained that he didn't have a Mistress. He was a staff person. Oh, I thought. 'Me think thou doth protest too much'!

And so we began to learn the ways of the OWK. There was a staff that ran the place, slaves could visit and suffer under the guise of Female Supremesism, and outsiders (like ourselves) were welcome at times of celebrations. I decided that my slave and I were going to present a good example. I was the only scene professional from the United States who had materialized. I began to verbalize all of my weekend rules for george. He would have to kneel for the queen whenever she walked by. He would be made to dress up in foofies, spank himself and perform skits for the other Ladies. He would eat his meals under my table out of a dog dish with a baby spoon. His outfit would be changed three times a day along with mine (he would dress me as my maid). He would follow me everywhere with a serving tray covered with the things I wanted for that day, and would wear my purse around his neck. He would serve as my toilet, foot slave, and sex toy (in private). To all of this he listened attentively, and began to get excited. We had never played to this degree for a three day period of time. I had in the past played with personal slaves, but never in an environment of this magnitude. Apparently, we had made quite an impression on Michel, who's face had gotten quite red. He thought we were a couple of super freaks. No one else had arrived 'dressed', or had received rules from their Mistress during the car trip. We later found out that he had told the whole staff about our communications, and they had gotten quite a kick out of it.

I inadvertently created a stir at OWK customs (located in the gift shop) because I wanted to know how much my credit card had been billed and how much cash I could use. I also needed advise on how many Doms to buy (the OWK form of currency). It took a long time for them to find an interpreter who could explain things to me, and this had delayed the initial ceremonies.

OOPS! We watched the first ceremony under a tree while it rained, with a couple from Switzerland. We conversed with them many times over the course of the next few days. They were as nervous as ourselves; especially the husband - as he was going to be made to sleep in the stable the next evening. My slave was dressed in his usual humiliating fashion at my insistence - a paisley catsuit with a white afro-wig and gigantic court-jesters hat. I had attached a thick white piece of rope to his collar. I told him he wasn't good enough for a real leash, and he would have to wear the cheesy adult bookstore 'slut collar' until he earned a better one. Every time I looked at him I laughed. The other Ladies found my humiliation of him to be very amusing during our three day stay. I had a lot of great conversations with other Dominant women because my slave was so much fun, and such a great sport!

We joined the main group, and had a champagne toast to Female Supremesism while listening to beautiful classical music which blared out of a loudspeaker positioned in a window. This eerieness reminded me of propaganda films I had seen about the Third Reich. The strictness of the place, the subjugation of the OWK slaves, the uniforms of the Guardesses, our own outfits, and what I was doing to my slave began to create an arousal in me that I had not experienced before. As I stood there in the large barn with the other Ladies and their slaves I had a deja-vu. I had chosen to put on a stark military hat and coat over my rubber. I looked at george. We had been here before a long time ago, but what were our roles?

Next there was a symbolic 'punishment of the male species'. The OWK slaves were led out of the stables in their shackles, stripped, and bent over saw horses. Some Ladies did not care how they punished, and some slaves ended up getting caned across the tailbone and wrapped around the thighs. This was not a cushy S/M studio in the United States. I had to bite my tongue. I decided to get involved, and hope that those individuals who were doing it incorrectly would take note.

There were several unaccompanied American businessmen at the OWK, who had submissive tendencies. They did not arrive as slaves, but as visitors. Some were pleasant and gentlemanly, others were not. I became interested in one of them. He had journeyed out to OWK without his wife (who knew of his scene interests). I decided to play with him because he was exceedingly polite to me, and fascinating to talk to. I made him wear my electric ball shocker, so I could page him when needed (it has a one mile radios with remote). I found it interesting to dismiss him off to talk with other groups of people, and then 'page' him! He would nearly double over.

The other American businessman was supposed (so he said) to have accompanied Midori. He was rude, and I told him that I understood completely why she was absent. He continued to pursue me for the 'free session' he assumed he would get (after observing my interactions with the other fellow), and I brushed him off with six words: "Gift shop. Rubber boots. Size 8". I did this after he had paid all of his fees to stay for the entire OWK celebration, however. I wanted to have someone around who I could be cruel to, and who both needed and deserved severe behavior modification. I actually got him to believe I would buy him at the slave auction. I stood before him in full regalia right before the auction sneering at his shackled, pitiful, white, pasty, skinny nakedness. He had the nerve to have a piece of paper posted above his head that said he was a 'masseuse', and did not like receiving golden showers, pain, or corporal discipline of any kind. As I stood in front of him and blew smoke, I informed him that I was going to buy him, beat him, and piss all over his face. He could forget about giving any massages. Then I watched as another lady bought him. He looked at me imploringly. She was a large German woman who enjoyed sitting on men, which also happened to be the fascination of the live in slave she had brought with her. I caught up with him the morning he was supposed to massage her, and overpowered him physically . I shoved him into a cage, and made him late for his massage. She had to come looking for him, and he had to tell her where I had hidden the key to the lock. The staff watched my antics with amusement. They found the man annoying also, but couldn't do anything about it. He had enrolled as a visitor, not a slave; so they couldn't touch him.

Only a few slaves were bought at the auction for very low rates. The slaves were being sold for long periods of time - two to three days! The Lady auctioneer cheerfully assured us that OWK Guardesses would be more than happy to take slaves off of our hands that we tired of. The slaves at auction bored me immensely. They were mostly only being sold to give massages. I wanted to buy a slave who was experimental. It was then obvious to me that none of these Ladies (including myself) had arrived alone, or would have cared to share a room with a slave just purchased at auction. To buy a slave at auction, one must have other rooms to keep them in, or be prepared to pay for stable or jail cell accommodations at night. Or, they could suffer all night. One slave bought at auction was made to sleep outside on a bench in the court yard without a blanket. Another was made to stand all night in the hall, waiting to kneel and kowtow to any passing female. The Queen's whipping slave (one of the most interesting men I have ever had contact with) did just that the entire time we were there. I rewarded him with a soft suede flogging the last day of our visit. He thanked me profusely. I then questioned him for a few minutes to ascertain his psychological state. He was flying higher than a kite from all of the attention (and lack of attention) he had received while stationed in that hallway. He was an excellent example of extreme physical and emotional masochism in a submissive male.

There were a number of unaccompanied Italian visitor slaves who walked around disrespectfully swinging their leashes as if they were at a discotheque. These I ignored. I did teased them with my Mistress costumes. I wore nothing but rubber and exotic shoes or boots the entire time, and changed my outfit three times a day. When OWK slave #69 (one of the queen's favorites) won the chariot race, he said it was on account of my blue latex mini-dress. I had been flirting with him, (and he with me) and made sure I was strategically placed in the front row during the race where he would see me.

There were opportunities to play with my personal slave between events. I was too tired to do any serious outdoor whipping, besides the grass was wet, so I opted for bondage and flogging instead. I made much use of the public pillory, and had a lot of fun exchanging ideas with other Ladies as we disciplined our slaves. In the evenings, we would dance at the OWK's new disco. I made sure we arrived just before the OWK slaves were led away in shackles to be stabled for the evening. I wanted to tease them with my outfits. I really began to enjoy my role of 'bitch fetish Mistress' with a non-passing cross dressed male slave in tow. One of the OWK slaves crawled over and begged to worship my behind. I told him he would watch my personal slave do this as punishment for having asked me, and he would thank me for the privilege of watching. I then laughed at him.

'tom from Holland' materialized as a male visitor, with a 9 page script of sexual nonsense. I teased him into the stockade promising I would be 'friendly' with him. I threw his script in the fire, danced with other Ladies in front of him, and inspired a non-English speaking German Lady to search his belongings. These actions thoroughly demoralized and humiliated him. While all of this was going on I was answering questions being posed by another male visitor; a reporter from the Boston Globe. This person was shocked that visiting OWK had been my fantasy, and that I had opted to bring a slave who was not my client - and that I was viewing the entire experience as a 'vacation'. He could not believe that I was in charge of everything including the expenses of the trip. I explained the difference between lifestyle and professional, and how one could also be both - though I was functioning as lifestyle only on this trip. I would not allow this reporter to sit or stand beside me while he interviewed. He was made to kneel or sit, and had to follow quickly - as I was busy in orchestrating my humiliation of 'tom from Holland', who ended up spending most of the night in that stockade. The reporter (who was not submissive) finally left my side, shaking his head in frustration at not receiving the answers he expected. One of the male staff members finally took pity on 'tom from Holland', and he was released early in the morning. I watched from the window of my suite in satisfaction as he scurried away.

I arose very early one morning, dressed in full regalia, and sat in the barn - smoking, watching the OWK slaves do their exercises. The Guardesses moved the slaves to another area. I followed; listening to them bark orders to the slaves in a language I did not understand. They looked at me, spoke Czech to each other, and laughed. I found this experience surreal and amusing, and opted to not feel threatened by their lack of direct communications towards me. They were working, and I was on vacation.

The US dollar is 60 cents on the Dom. You need Doms at OWK to eat, drink, buy slaves at auction, and to gamble at pool-tournaments and slave races. I bought too many, because I did not understand in my sleep-deprived state what I was doing. I didn't mind though, because I ended up using them to buy OWK equipment and costumes (which are totally unique compared to anything one can buy in the states). I purchased boots, whips, gags, collars, a spiked rubber mat, corsets, and books for my library. I enjoyed trying out my new instruments on the OWK gift shop slave who was positioned there for that purpose. I also used strategically placed OWK shoe cleaning slaves and human ashtrays while I shopped.

One of my most vivid recollections of the entire trip was an image of the male slaves fighting over a hunk of meat. The queen had assembled a large banquet for the Ladies to enjoy scrumptious treats. The 'male creatures' were placed in the outer chamber and would hang around the doorway of the Ladies Banquet Hall begging for scraps. Finally, after the Ladies were satiated, a couple of the Queen's personal servants brought out a large tray of meat that all of the men converged on. They fought over the meat like animals. After the men had their fill, they all looked somewhat embarrassed and humiliated. I was then approached by slave 69 to assist in translation of an introductory speech he would be making later that evening. Since my latex hobble dress was excessively tight I was beginning to get a headache, so I summoned my slave george- who lifted me in his arms and carried me back to our suite where I was pampered for the rest of the evening.

After a long nap, we ventured out to the pool in the very early morning. I wore my latex bikini and swam around by moonlight, discussing Zen Buddhism and tantric sex with OWK staff members. They were curious about how my slave could orgasm without ejaculating; thereby increasing my pleasure during sex. We thought about giving a demonstration, but felt that a few of the people present did not speak enough English to understand the nature of our 'show'. As night turned into day, we reflected on our visit. The intellectual exchanges we had shared with others, and what we had witnessed, had been extremely enlightening for both of our sexual appetites.