Slave Bruce: OMG Sophia, of all the Dommes i have interviewed you totally blow me away! Besides being drop dead gorgeous, You have an aura about You that completely makes me feel totally mesmerized! Please tell me about Your childhood. Have You always had this power?Sophia: Well, that's a very complex question. There is no doubt whatsoever that I have always been... something. "Dominant" might be one word for it, but perhaps there are others. I can remember from a very very young age being very fascinated by sexual power. It's an interesting thing to remember, if your memories go back that far, the time period when you were aware of the existence of some sort of "high-energy power interaction" occurs between women and men but were not yet subject to actual direct sexual desire yourself.
I can remember this phase of my development very distinctly. Long before I ever had any sexualized feelings myself, I recognized, through tv and film, that something "magical" existed between women and men. I didn't directly experience it, of course, but I knew it existed, and I knew I wanted to control that force.Love is something a preschooler can easily empathize with. Love is very comprehensible, as a preschooler, I was aware of love. I loved our cat, I loved my parents, I loved my home-made stuffed-animal, Eeyore, that my aunt made for me.
But I was also very aware that there was a whole different sort of charge that affected teenagers and adults. As far as I knew, it occurred only between men and women. I believe I would have described it with the word "like". Prince Eric "likes" Princess Ariel. It was also very clear to me that there was an inherent inequity in this sort of motivation. An attractive woman would spontaneously be "liked" by every guy in sight.
She, on the other hand, would rarely "like" any of them back. And what's more, often the "villainess" is "liked' by the very same heroes who fight against her. For people whose childhood amnesia destroys their early memories, this may seem unbelievable, but in reality, I was awash with examples of this sort of interaction.
One classic example, from my preschool childhood, that sticks out in my mind is a scene in "Roger Rabbit" where Jessica does a dance and all the boys drool over her, even though she's vaguely mean to some of them. It's abundantly clear that they all still "like" her. To say I was intrigued by this would be a massive understatement.
I found it absolutely, unbelievably interesting, and I just knew I would be one of "those" women. The kind of woman that had such total control over guys. The kind of woman who was desired by everyone. The kind of woman who was utterly irresistible. I'm sure I wasn't the only girl that had those kind of thoughts, but I'm probably one of the few who had them so early, and I suspect I'm unique in having begun, at such a young age, to try to study and comprehend this bizarre interpersonal dynamic. Long before I ever had any conception of the word "s-e-x", I certainly felt a proto-sexual "charge" at the thought of being able to control males.
Slave Bruce: Is that when you first began dominating others?
Sophia: No, I'd have to say that the "fascination" with television and film characters who had elements of domination came much earlier than actual acts of domination. I can't really remember a time when I didn't have that morbid fascination with "controlling" others. I think in my preschool brain, I actually thought it was some type of "magic". I know that sounds comical, but that's the best word I can use to describe my thought processes at so young an age.
To someone who has never felt Eros, the only actual explanation for the behavior of grownups is a sort of "magical thinking", where beautiful women can "put spells" on men. Not that I actually would have used the word "spells" or "witchcraft" or anything of that sort, but I did distinctly chalk up the power women exerted over males to some sort of "grown up girl magic". But no, I don't think I ever really acted on it at that early of an age. Actions required maturity and an ample supply of victims, something that would have to wait until kindergarten.
Slave Bruce: So, you were fascinated by domination before you actually started dominating others?
Sophia: Yes, the fascination started long before the actual domination. Well, I should clarify, it feels like a long time to me, because I was so young. In my mind, it feels like an eternity later. By the calendar, I actually started "dominating" around age five. As part of the process of making Toxic Treat, one of the things I've done is really search my memories for the earliest influences and earliest actions that are the "earliest indicators" of the kind of person I would later become. For later years, my diaries are helpful, but of course, they only go back so far. For earlier years, my primary inspiration were short glimpses of female domination in film or tv.
I remember being totally fascinated, for example, by Samantha of Bewitched, who had total power over her pathetic husband who was eternally the butt of supernatural pranks. You had to look hard to see female domination in children's programming, but I seemed quite good at noticing it and being enthralled by the mysterious power that women could exert over males.As for actual domination, well, I don't know how interesting this story will be to your readers, but I'll tell it anyway. It's incredibly tame, but it's my earliest distinct memory of dominating boys, or at least, the earliest memory where I know for a fact how old I was when it happened. In my kindergarten class, the day had a typical schedule.
Here's how the day starts. You come in, and you hang up your things on the hook in the closet. Next, you go to the shelf and get your "tub", a yellow plastic container with your name written on it. Inside the tub are your implements of learning, crayons, safety scissors, elmer's glue, the fat kindergarten pencil , etc. Now, once in possession of your tub, you take the tub (and yourself) to one of the yellow square tables in the classroom. Each table seats four children. At some point during the year, I began doing the following ritual every morning. I would retrieve my tub, and then I would stand in the center of the room, equally distant from all the tables. The boys in the class (perhaps not all the boys, but the majority of them) would circle around me, watching me, waiting to see which table I was going to sit at.
As soon as I would make a motion toward one of the tables, the boys would instantly rush to sit down at that table, the first three sitting down, leaving a space for me. There would be some shoving occasionally. Usually it was the same few boys that got there first, the boys who were simply bigger and faster than the rest. Now, depending on who had made it to the table and my mood, I might simply continue my initial motion and actually sit at that table. OR, if I didn't like who had sat at the table or was just feeling playful, I would "change my mind" and change direction, moving towards a different table.
The boys who had successfully gotten a place at the first table would then rush out of their seats and run toward my "new" destination, but in doing so, they were at a substantial disadvantage to the still-standing boys who hadn't gotten a seat at the first table. All the boys would now clamour for spots at what they thought was my new destination. And again, I might actually sit down, or I might switch to a different table and make them scurry again for a chance to sit next to me.
Sooner or later, I would be satisfied with the assortment of tablemate's and I would finally sit down. Now, I have to confess, I cannot for the life of me remember why the boys even wanted to sit with me. As best as I can remember, they got no tangible rewards from sitting with me. It's not as if I kissed them for sitting next to me, and at that age, I don't know that they would have even wanted to kiss a girl. I've spent a lot of time trying to recall how I had gotten to be so popular that I was the person everyone wanted to sit next to. I don't know. But I can distinctly remember my first few days of kindergarten and I know the pattern wasn't established initially, it was something that evolved over the course of the year.
I have no recollection of how I became the person everyone wanted to sit next to, but I most certainly remember that it was something I "made" happen, it didn't just accidentally happen. But most of all, I remember that I LOVED it. I loved it with all my heart. It was so much fun. It felt so good. Now it wasn't even remotely sexual, not in the slightest. But it was definitely proto-dominance. And while I have other hazy memories of proto-dominance from that era, the seating ritual is first instance of dominance I have a really distinct, clear, no-doubt memory that can be dated to a specific time and place. I know it was kindergarten because all subsequent grades at my elementary school had individual desks instead of group tables. So, that proves it, whatever it is that I am, "dominant" or "domina" or "evil", whatever name you want to put on my behavior, there is no doubt that I had started practicing my skills by age five.
It certainly wasn't "dominance" in a sexual sense, but I got a palpable charge out of it.
Slave Bruce: So, when did it start to be dominance in a sexual sense?
Sophia: Well, I would have to say I was kind of a powder keg waiting to explode. All I needed was the right spark. All through childhood, I got better and better at manipulating my peers, being the most popular, etc. I did some very cruel things, and I did enjoy them immensely. When the elementary school "dating" scene started in fourth and fifth grade, I made sure that I always had the very best boys wrapped around my finger, with many waiting in the wings to take their place.
I enjoyed encouraging fights among boys, and I found the site of two guys fighting over me to absolutely hilarious . It started when I'd use the fight method to decide which of two boys would get to "go out" with me (although going-out mostly meant holding hands on the playground of course). I would laugh at the loser and embrace the winner and retire to the remote corner of the schoolyard where he could get his "reward" of holding my hand.
But by then, I would already be thinking about next week and who I would encourage to pick a fight with this week's winner. After a time, I gave up the inconvenience of limiting fights to two boys I liked. Instead, I started started to encourage fights in which I didn't like either boy, fights where my closest female friends knew I didn't like them, that I wouldn't "date" either one. No, I just wanted to feel the thrill of making two boys beat each other up in order to try and impress me.
But the elementary school "dating" and hand-holding and chivalrous combat was still just kids stuff. There wasn't anything truly "sexualized" about it. But I suppose that it was inevitable I would, sooner or later, move on to more clear-cut dominance. As it happened, I graduated to more adult things about the same time everyone does, around seventh grade or so. My first "real" victims, the first guys to openly professed intense desire for me and to really get hurt for it, were actually older guys, rather than people my own age.
Boys my own age seemed to lag behind me in terms of maturity, but older guys were a different matter. Starting around age 12 or 13, I began to be able to really turn heads, and it was everything I had ever dreamt it would be, and more. Even though I was still a very young adolescent, there was never any shortage grownup men wanting to look at me. I found that varying my wardrobe could increase or decrease this effect-- the right outfit and I'd get stares all day from almost any man, no matter what his role, age, or relationship status.
I would have to say that was when I really got completely and utterly hooked. This is when domination stopped being a hobby and started being an identity. It was when I discovered that guys, no matter how much they want to, simply cannot control their own eyes around a sufficiently attractive girl. And I was far more than sufficiently attractive. This is worth getting down, so allow me to go on a little detour. In my late teens, I once took a really short commuter flight and was seated next to an adorable old man, probably in his late 70s, who was obsessed with fishing.
I was in a social mood and it was as short flight, and I listened to him go on and on about how there's a million different ways to catch fish. Each type of fish (or maybe even each individual fish, I don't remember) has different inclinations about what it will bite. Some want shiny spiny things and some want neon colors and some want this and some want that. On and on he rattled off the different kinds of things you can use to catch a fish. And when I heard this adorable little old man drone on about fish, it reminded me so much of being in middle school and trying to make men look at me against their will. Making men look at you, when they have made up their mind that they shouldn't, is an incredible rush. And I'd say my first act of actual "sexualized domination" was that, learning how to make men be utterly unable to resist looking at me. Taking a person who has made up his mind that he WILL NOT look, and being able to overcome his willpower and get him to oogle you.
Now, to be sure, getting most guys to "cop a glace" at you is no real talent, even if you are 13. Males are ruled by their lust. Once you become sexually attractive, most guys will eagerly "check you out" without exhibiting any attempt whatsoever at self-restraint. They weren't the fun ones. But much older guys, or guys who are accompanied by significant others, or guys who knew my parents, or guys who were my teachers, they tried so hard not to look at me. They felt on some level that they shouldn't look at me. They felt it would be immoral, unfaithful, inappropriate. Their base desires SCREAMED for a chance to have just one quick peek at me out of the corner of their eye, but their own morality fought equally hard to resist giving into the temptation to look.
And so, I would play a game where I would study a guy, learn what it took to get a him to look at me in "that way", and then, repeatedly overpower his own morality to make him look at me against his will. And this is where the old man and his fishing story fits in. Because each guy has a particular bait that he simply cannot resist. Every male has buttons that, when pressed, will cause their morality to shut down and make them give in to their lust. Each pair of male eyes is drawn to a specific stimulus, and once you find out what it is, you have far more control over a man's eyes than he does. For some guys, it's legs. Legs are the easiest and most powerful. Crossing your legs, giving a man only a second to maybe catch a glimpse, will almost always result in a dart of the eye. But sometimes that tactic wouldn't work, you can't wear a skirt or dress everywhere, and some guys just don't go for that particular type of bait.
Cleavage is one of the funnest ones, because it's so easy to catch a cleavage glance, and so obvious when they suddenly break eye contact and their eyes shoot downward. Lots of guys have have less "run of the mill" interests. For my eighth grade science teacher, it was the arch of my feet, if I dangled a shoe from my toes and arched my foot, he'd stop whatever he was doing and just LOOK dead square at my beautiful foot, practically hypnotized.
Meanwhile, I had a "friend" whose father's interest was my hair, if I brushed it or flipped it or turned it or played with, or did anything hair related, then he would HAVE TO look. Sure, he'd look at me in mirrors or lean his head back as if looking at the ceiling, but actually keeping his eyes glued on me and my luxurious strands. Every guy has their thing, it's just a matter of finding it. And of course, as last resort, nobody can resist tongue action. A tongue gently caressing a lip, or lightly playing with a pen, those are simply impossible to not look at, no matter how hard a guy tries.
Again, I know my little looking game is a very tame activity, far removed from handcuffs or whips . It may be disappointing to you if you want to hear about my more extreme activities, but the looking game was a truly important step in my journey. It was the bridge between the childhood diversions and the full-blown sex life of the adult. The looking game was when I first realized I wasn't limited to controlling stupid kids my own age, suddenly, with my looks, I could control almost any male, no matter what their age.
At this stage, it was only limited control, a simple little battle of wills in which male tries to control his sexual instincts and I expertly thwart his attempt at self-control. Most of all, given enough time to experiment and learn about a given guy, I could always win. Always. And the best part was, they had no idea the game was even happening. They just saw a girl who was far too young for them, but still they were unable not to notice how, even at that young age, I was quite attractive.
Despite their morals, despite their will, despite their best intentions, I could make them lust after me, just for a second. They had no idea I had made them do it. They had no clue that I was intentionally causing them to betray their values in order to get a glimpse of me. And the best victims of all, by far, were those guys who would give in, who would look, who would enjoy the view, and THEN, upon realizing they had just ogled a 13 year old, would become sick and mad at themselves, horrified at the emotions they felt. They would turn and try to hide their own revulsion at themselves for their feelings. This happens far less frequently than you would hope, most guys were worried about being noticed, not about their actual enjoyment itself. But with a few guys, as soon as they realized they had been looking at me "with lust in their hearts", a wave of self-hatred would wash over their faces. They'd turn away from me, but I could still see the hatred on their faces, how much they loathed themselves for having looked at me. But even among those guys, the guys who soooo badly hated themselves for looking. No matter how mad they got at themselves, they still couldn't control themselves. No matter how badly they hated themselves for looking, they WOULD look again, the very next time I decided to make them look.
Slave Bruce: Wow, on a different topic, what is your favorite drink?
Sophia: I sip my Napoleon brandy, and I never get my lips wet. I know all your readers were probably hoping I was going to say something really over the top, such as "My favorite drink is, the tears of the weak". But, that's just ridiculous. Tears are entirely too salty.
Slave Bruce: Tell me about Your computer nerd josh? How long has he served You?
Sophia: I first met Josh when I was a freshman in high school. He was a shy little sophomore with bad skin, unkempt hair, and awkward conversation. None of these traits have changed, either! We had a class together (Deutsch mit Frau Rondeau!) and he got assigned the seat right behind me. And wouldn't you know it, I guess poor Josh may have developed a little crush on me. Now, I've always been clear with him from day one, I think he's a bit gross. But, he did have a car and a willingness to use it to drive me and my friends wherever we wanted to go. And he was so eager to help out with some of the more mind-numbing and tedious aspects of my education, the busy work. And ever since, he's been helping me out with innumerable errands. He's a good friend and we stayed in touch while I was a senior and then when I was in Europe, and then when I was in New York, during that time he was working away at his computer science degree (ya know, to impress the ladies! lol). So once I finally came home again, not only was he overjoyed to be able to see me on a more regular basis, but he was particularly gleeful when I told him I had yet another use for him, in the form of programming a website. As I say on my site, Josh manages to keep convincing himself that if he keeps doing nice things for me, I'll break down and realize he's the perfect guy for me. I keep telling him that I'm sure SOMEDAY I'll be willing to go out with him, just as soon as he figures out how to magically trade bodies with David Beckham.
Slave Bruce: Have You ever considered a career in high fashion modeling?
Sophia: No, absolutely never. I can't imagine anything more reprehensible than resigning myself to becoming a prop in someone else's vision. The role of a truly skilled professional model is, honestly, to not draw attention to herself, but merely to exist to support the garment and the designer. Certainly, there are divas who break this rule, but if you are going to do the job properly, you need to be willing to twist your own personality and self-expression to the requirements of the garment, the theme, and the audience. To be a fashion model is, to some extent, to offer yourself up as clay to be used by the designer or photographer. Now certainly, many fashion models DO other things off the runway.
Fashion modeling can be a platform from which to launch your own individual artistic and creative ventures. But, the primary job of a fashion model, the sine qua non of the job description, is to be seen and not heard. So while I adore fashion (and even flirted with the concept of someday being a designer when I was in middle school), no, I would never consider a career in high fashion modeling. I have respect for those few models who have made it through the drudgery of day-to-day modeling and emerged as fashion icons or super models, where they have real power and where the whole world does want to hear them speak. But I myself would never have the desire to try that career track. I am the creator, not the creation. I am the sculptor of worlds, I am not the clay. I am the painter of the sublime, I am not the canvas. I am the chronicler of my own history, I am not the ink. I am the music-maker. I am the dreamer of dreams. I am the mover and the shaker. And sometimes, I am the destroyer of worlds.
Slave Bruce: Do You also accept Female slaves if they are attractive and obedient?
Sophia: I don't know that I would say I "accept female slaves". Instead, it's more accurate to say that I most certainly do choose to dominate, humiliate, abuse, and use women. Indeed, I can say without reservation that women are my favorite type of 'dance partner' in the odd little dance that I do.
Males, with notable exceptions, are simple, easy, and lacking in emotional depth. What's more, there's a certain societal acceptance that a male will do whatever he can in order to get a sufficiently attractive woman. Even if a male humiliates himself and never so much as gets to touch my shoe, some part of him tell him it's "normal" for him to accept being treated badly in order to have a shot at being with me.
In fact, I can present a very simple tableaux that highlights the difference between male and female companions. Let's suppose I choose to share my evening with a 'friend' at a very expensive five star dining establishment. I order the absolute priciest entrees, on a first date, sometimes I choose based upon price rather my own culinary desires, and I always order an expensive wine.
Now, the check comes. Who pays? If my companion that evening is a male, he will instantly reach for the check, grabbing it the second it is offered to him. He will be happy to pay, he thinks it's his place. If it's his first encounter with me, he may even suspect I am impressed by this gesture or that his money will purchase my favor. He will feel good about himself for paying, he will be extremely proud of his fancy platinum card and he will subtly try to draw my attention to his wealth, like a peacock strutting around trying to impress with his pompous plumage.
When dolling out the tip, he will sit with the pen in hand, passing judgment on the wait staff, often commenting to me what his ruling is. While I undoubtedly have plans underway to put him in his place, the fact of the matter is this particular sub phase of the interaction doesn't leave him feeling weak.
But suppose my dining companion is a woman. Everything is different now. Do I find her attractive? She doesn't know. Do I find any women attractive? She probably doesn't know. For that matter, does she find women attractive? If I've chosen her, then I know she is susceptible to me, but on a conscious level, she may not know whether she even likes women "in that way". Are we on a date, or are we just two friends having dinner? Do I think we're on a date? Does she? Does she want it to be a date, or does she want it to be just two friends?
The possibilities excite and scare her at the same time. And then, when the check comes, she is, of course, going to pay, but she has to struggle with finding an answer for why it is she's paying. She doesn't get the cop-out that a male would have of "guys are supposed to pay" and she doesn't get the simple justification that "any guy would want Sophia". Instead she has to emotionally contort herself in front of my eyes. Maybe the waiter will ask "Is this all on one check"?, in which case I will quickly say yes, but surprisingly will motion for the check to go to my companion. And suddenly she finds that she does want to pay, she desperately wants to pay; It's just that she's entirely unsure why she wants to pay.
Maybe she'll try to be generous about it, making the check a gift. A lot of people pick that strategy: "Let me get this one." But rather than saying the customary "Thanks, I'll get it next time", I'll just say "Of course" or nod as if it were a given that she is going to pay. This makes her happy, but it scares her. It may even make her a little mad, but she'll quickly suppress the anger because she likes me and doesn't want to be angry with me.
And then, my all-time favorite thing to do, something that I find SO hot, is to criticize her tip. "Let me see the check," I'll say, and my dining companion thinks perhaps I'm going to reimburse her for half or at least tally how much I should pay her back later. If there's two copies of the receipt, I might hand the blank one back to her and tell her "20% is really too small for level of service we received, I'd suggest tipping [whatever]." Or, I might ask her, "Do you have change for a $50" and when she pulls the cash out I just take it and put it on the table for the server, rather than give my companion a $50 bill in exchange for smaller bills.
And then, the best, if I can tell my companion is irked by my impolite way I handled the payment situation, I can further play with her head by asking "You don't mind that I let you do the paying do you?". It's a first date (or she hopes it is anyway) and she's trying to impress me and trying to be nice and be on her best behavior, of COURSE she's not going to say she minded. Nobody ever says "yes, actually I do mind". So she'll say "No, no, of course not". Except, the truth is, she did mind. So now she starts wondering why she just told me she didn't mind when really she did mind. She beings to rewrite her own thoughts in order to cope with the cognitive dissonance.
Why is it, if she is so upset, that she professed she didn't mind in the slightest? That doesn't make sense. So, she starts to suspect that perhaps she really doesn't mind, perhaps that the situation was, somehow, completely fair.She doesn't say any of this out loud, but you can see it on her face. It's a drama that plays out entirely in her mind. But I've seen it before, and I get to sit back and watch the show, a show that is comical, adorable, and utterly hot.The picture I've just painted is of a stereotyped thirty second interaction that occurs every time you have a first formal meal with someone who is interested in you. With the male, it's fun but superficial. With a woman, it's delicious and multi layered, already replete with overtones of power and the discrepancies of the individual self-worth between me and her. With the male, it's a cute "one-trick pony" that is fun but repetitive. With a woman, each interaction has a unique, rich flavor. It's like singing a duet. It can be fun even if your partner in the duet is tone-deaf, sort of like singing "Happy Birthday", where the act is still fun even if it isn't going to win any awards. Or you can have a partner who is a virtuoso, a composer, and opera singer, in which case, the results can be positively sublime.
March 21, 2009
