The following is a very worshipful account by one of my slaves.

A little over five years ago I was hurtling south in my 2009 corolla on that hot, flat strip of I-5 that runs through the middle of California. I was looking for myself on a middle-age trip of plausible integrity. At least that was my hope. Of one thing I was certain; after 50 some years of sexual fantasy-land and a good deal of perverted actualization, romantic frustration and relationship ruin, I was ready to hire a professional to get my needs met. The moment I read Katherine Dire’s words and saw her picture, I knew she was the dominatrix for me. Vaguely intellectually and — much more resonant — emotionally was the feeling that if I sent an email to her; I would for the rest of my life quite likely be consumed.

I walked into our very first session nervous and late. Katherine Dire was cool, calculating yet spontaneous. Beautiful yet approachable. Erotic yet unattainable. Powerful yet kind. I fell in love immediately and she went about creating a years-long, incremental transformation of me on every level. Most recently her work culminated in what I actually am and will be; permanently binding. 

During my most recent session with Katherine Dire, a little over five years since that trip and our first session, my reality has been crystallized by her and I am just reflections in that prism. 

I was honored and relieved to be going up north for the weekend to an Airbnb with my Mistress Creator. It had been six months since I had been alone with my Goddess and although I was worked up and busting with anticipation; I did not anticipate the profoundly transformative experience my Mistress created. My Mistress Creator had picked up on my feminine, submissive, bottom-character upon meeting me. Long ago she had expertly seen my weakness; my lack of authentic masculinity and the dramatic, complex, dominating representations of manliness I tried to fake. This session however was to be the inflection point. The pinnacle of my transformation.

Initially on the drive up I whined and complained about my difficulty letting go of my heterosexual yet compassionate-capable persona. Particularly in regards to how I regarded my Mistress Creator. You see, even though I had worked very hard trying to revere and serve, I was also madly in love and madly in lust with her. She is, to me, the perfect, Goddess Woman. My arrogance, lust, and inner turmoil were all disrespectful and burdensome to her. My Mistress Creator had been very patient and over the years with punishment and slow conditioning. On this trip she was focusing on taking me to my logical, pathetic conclusion. It started with her explaining to me that there was to be no more complaining and vacillating; was I going to commit? I immediately said yes (not really understanding yet what that meant) and she began to exert her power and magic.

In our years together she had painstakingly guided me into a deep hypnotic subspace and on this occasion my Mistress utilized that power more so than ever before. It was revealed to me that I would no longer pretend to be a heterosexual male. I was and would forever be a gay, submissive, masochistic, sissy creature. I would never have sex nor try to have sex with a cis-woman again. From now on I would only masturbate by penetrating myself until I sissygasmed and never touch my useless, pathetic, clit. And, I would accentuate and inhabit my feminine side as much as possible; from now on only being a bottom for men, trannies, and other sissies. 

I was devastated, and scared and incredibly relieved. My Mistress employed her hypnotic power, sexual power, her intellectual power and her sadistic power. My Mistress Creator employed beatings and whippings that only stopped when I would ask her to beat or kick my balls. She went back-and-forth between whipping me and destroying my useless testicles. When she would pause; I would beg for more. She put sharp, saw-tooth nipple clamps on me and left them on for so long that when she took them off, slapping and pinching my swollen nipples, the pain was excruciating. And I was so grateful. She took me into a deep, unfathomable, hypnotic space where I would lose touch completely with my humanity let alone any pretend masculinity.  

My transformation was not just achieved through pain alone. Katherine Dire has mastered the science and is a genius in the art of dominance and control. Alternating her sadism with motherly comfort and benevolent acceptance are powerful conditioning methods. She would allow me to serve her. Massage her. And worship, respectfully, specific parts of her body and allow me generally to take in her magnificent beauty and sensuality. Conducting me between these pleasures and humiliation and torture eventually left an empty husk to do with what she pleased.

In that deep, vulnerable space, Katherine Dire conditioned me to believe that I had been castrated and injected with feminizing drugs. I became a total submissive fairy fag who flounced about, begged to be fucked and suck cock, and fingered her sissy pussy as much and as deeply as she could. Then I would happily lick my fingers clean. My Mistress Creator did fuck the shit out of me. She fucked me bent over, standing up, tied to the bed. I squealed, purred, and begged for more. I willingly violated myself by bouncing up and down on larger and larger toys while my Mistress relaxed and luxuriated herself. Finally, my Goddess Mistress Creator gave me a choice. I could take the blue pill and go back to my illusionary reality pretending to be what I am not. Or, I could take the red pill and forever be a gay, sissy, submissive, masochist, bottom creature. I chose the red pill.

I have no more will, I have no more power. And although the rest of my life still has some questions; one thing that will never be questioned again Is that I live to serve, worship, and love my Mistress Creator only in the way she commands.

Thank you, with all my heart my Goddess Mistress Creator, Katherine Dire.