By Geordiesouth The first and most important rule is consent. Always obtain permission from your Mistress before even writing your review.

The second rule is having the review proof read by a review expert or agent. He or she will make any necessary changes regarding grammatical errors (good english) and of course check for anything remotely slanderous that could have you or the particular message board that will be hosting the said review, sued in a court of law.

The londonfetishscene web site has a list of such establishments who can carry out this service. I myself, for a small fee, can also do this type of work.

Once thoroughly checked and stamped for approval, the review can be mailed or posted or even hand delivered to the mistress concerned. She may also wish to make changes and unfortunately this is where problems may develop. Because any changes made after the review has been approved by the proofreader, will result in the review losing its approval and it must therefore be submitted for reapproval.

I myself have argued with a mistress that she need not make any changes to a review I had written, but she insisted that her bottom was not the size of a pygmy hippo and went ahead and made the changes anyway. Angered by this alteration, I had to resubmit my review with the extra changes that I had seen fit to add.

Needless to say, this took up valuable time. But once more after having the review approved and showing the text to my mistress she once more edited a small paragraph that dared to suggest she broke wind as she was about to smother me.

I have now dispensed with protocol and submit to you, dear readers, an unabridged version of my review regarding Mistress Toyotah of Hamersham Heath.

I had long felt drawn to this stunning mistress after finding her website on the UK- Mistress Listings. Indeed, I could hardly believe my eyes when perusing the services she offered. Oh of course there was the usual Mistressy type of stuff:

Bondage
Tie/tease
Restraint
Rubber
Humiliation
Leather
Watersports
PVC
Hardsports
Toys

But a disclaimer brought surprise to my eyes:

On no account will the slave or submissive ask the Mistress for any sexual services whatsoever. He or she can bloody well pay for them before the session begins.

This confused me somewhat. Was I expected to go somewhere before the session began and pay for sex, or was I supposed to pay the mistress for sex before the session began? I mean, Mistresses just don’t do that sort of thing, do they?

Anyway, I arrived at the stone-clad semi at the end of the lane. I had rang the Mistress, as asked, when I had arrived in the area, some twenty minutes before my appointment. You needn’t wait, she said on the phone, you can come now.

More confusion. I mean, there weren’t a lot of people around, but I didn’t want to sit in my car and wank. So I declined and asked if it was OK to wait until I was in her dungeon.

This was when I discovered she was partially deaf and the next few minutes were a little fraught. To cut a long story short I arrived at her gate only a few minutes late.

More time was lost when the gate fell off its hinges when I pushed it open. Not wishing to be accused of breaking her property I wasted valuable time trying to fix it.

The neighbour next door came out and helped. Nice bloke, I found out he was under the impression that the mistress was a psychic healer. Hence the comings and goings.

“Strange thing” he said to me “I didn’t know so many men were into that sort of thing. ”

Gate fixed, I rang the doorbell.

Nothing.

I rang again, but the door remained unanswered.

I had my ear pressed to the door listening for movement when the next door neighbour’s wife came out to help me. Unfortunately she knocked the gate back off its hinges and had to go and get her husband to fix it again.

“She’s a little hard of hearing, “ she shouted at me.

“I’ll just go round the back and tap on her kitchen window.”

“Doris” came the cry from round the back, “There's another one of your gentlemen friends to see you. This one looks really ill.”

Very helpful neighbour returned.

Smiling, she said:

“She’ll only be a sec, she’s getting into her psychic mood, although heaven knows why she has to dress up in that black bin liner “

I looked at the open door, as did Madge (the neighbour). The door was open but there was no visible sign of Doris, sorry, Mistress Toyotah.

Madge gently elbowed me in the side and spoke out of the corner of her mouth;

“It’s something else that she does, she’s standing behind the door, dear”

I thought to myself, what the fuck is a doordear? Her eyes turned up to the heavens as she walked back off down the garden path. I heard the gate fall off again but by this time I was stepping into the hallway.

The front door closed, I turned and said hello to the woman who would be my mistress for the next hour or so.

The likeness to her web-site photos was uncanny. In fact it appeared to me that I was looking at somebody I had never seen before. The blonde wig gave the effect that she was wearing an afghan hound’s ears. Her glasses were rather thick-lensed black things and I couldn’t help but conjure up a picture of my old music teacher.

“You will need to fill in a slave questionnaire” she said and promptly handed me an application form to sit the theory part of the driving test.

Having passed my test years ago I dispensed with this and picked up an A4 sheet of paper from the small table in the hallway marked ‘Slaves Likes/Dislikes’

She eyed me suspiciously. This was when I noticed that one of her eyes pointed to the left. I found out later that this was her good eye and she could only see you if she turned her head to the side. It was quite off putting as I always thought she was looking out of the window when she spoke to me.

Didn’t take long to fill in the form and she perused it very quickly.

“So you like bandage and torment do you?” she said.

“I think there is a misprint on the form,” I said “ I take it that when it reads ‘bandage’ what you really mean is ‘bondage.’”

I couldn’t help but smile.

The mistress didn’t smile.

“Nothing wrong with the form” she said “Do you not want to be wrapped up in gauze then?”

My mind was racing. I pictured being cocooned in bandages then having her sit in front of me eating fish and chips and drinking Newcastle Brown Ale, saying “This must be bloody torment for you”

Ten minutes later and I was in the dungeon, naked, lying on the bondage table (read plastic patio table) restrained firmly with medical gauze. Mistress disappeared from view and returned wearing a Sunderland football strip. Her idea of torment was far more sadistic than I had ever imagined.

“ I had better tell you now” she said “You will never see me naked, I never undress for my slaves at all”

“Thank fuck for small mercies” I mumbled.

“What?”

“I was just saying that it was probably for the best.”

I struggled to think.

“You know, too much excitement may not be good for me. ”

Forced snigger.

She gave me a funny look, which meant nothing of course; because she gave me funny looks all the time.

“ I know you are not into pain, but I thought I might just try and extend your limits somewhat.” She nodded knowingly.

She stood smiling over me with her little box of tricks in her hand. Wires disappearing down to my groin regions.

“Just a small ickle-wickle bit to start off with” she smirked.

She turned the knob and the room was placed in complete darkness.

“The bloody electrician told me he had fixed this,” she said “Hold on, I’ve got some candles somewhere near”.

Noises of her moving, stumbling in the darkness. The dungeon was a converted cellar and so was completely black. A thunderous scream, as she stood on the cat asleep in the corner. It gave her such a fright, she lost her footing and fell, knocking over a shelf of vibrators and strap-ons. One of which started up and vibrated and bounced all over the tiled floor with the cat growling and spitting at it.

A low moan from behind me. “Oh fuck” she said “I think I’ve done me back in”

The cat attacked the vibrator and although it won the fight and managed to switch it off, it lost a tooth in the battle.

My life flashed before me.

Her voice.

“It’s OK, I can get on my hands and knees, just can’t stand up. I know where the candles and matches are, just wait there.” She sweated.

“What?”

“Yes, Mistress.” I whimpered.

The candles, when she found them, turned out to be an old box of Standard fireworks left over from last November. The room was lit up by something called a Starburst, which hit the ceiling, dislodging a lump of plaster, which fell and knocked her unconscious.

Helpless I lay, with the cat fretting at the loss of a tooth trying to get comfortable on my chest. I didn’t know cats could see in the dark. I fell asleep, it was easier than worrying about my predicament.

Madge woke me. George, her husband had fixed the fuse box. Apparently it had happened before; it blew the neighbours fuse box too. Doris was still on all fours, minus the Afghan hound wig. It was in the corner being molested by the cat.

“Soon have you out of all these bandages dear” she said.

I sat on the patio table and looked up as George appeared at the top of the stairs,

“Everything all right now” he said cheerfully “I’m just going back to fix that gate”

He waved as the leg gave way on the table and I crashed onto the floor.

Doris looked at me.

“I read my sign today in the Sun” she said. “Good day to relax and take things easy. I nearly cancelled your appointment after reading that” she sighed.

The cat looked at me knowingly, it was now wearing the afghan wig and somehow it seemed to sum up everything that had happened.