The proud rose.

The proud rose.

Its red pedals are soft to the touch just like supple skin.
It stands proudly on its long, slender stem among the field of green grass.
The rose attracts the bees, buzzing for its pollen.
Care to take a whiff of its sweet fragrance?

Be careful.

Even roses have thorns.

A Mistress is like a rose. Drug yourself on her beauty, and relish in the sharp pain from her thorns.

My Legacy.

From the paddles and whips encased and hung on my walls, to my closet filled with my favorite tools of destruction, I can say that every corner of my dungeon is truly my home away from home.

This place used to be just an empty space without a purpose. But my love for the art of BDSM has turned this space into my playground. This is where the sadist in me comes out to play.

I've built this place so you can feel my presence as soon as you enter. And after a session with me, my presence will haunt you for weeks--even months after.

My dedication. My Parthenon. My legacy.

Practicing my technique

My single-tail has been like my third arm for over twenty years. I need to refine my technique, polish my wrist movement and improve my sniper-precision aim.

From this moment onward, every lick of my whip will be that much more accurate than ever before. A bite from my single-tail will leave a burn to seep deeply into the skin, and sizzle you flesh from the inside out.

Every stroke is going to be with an even greater purpose. You WILL feel the pain of discipline and order with each strike.

It's the year 2016. New subs come out from the dark corners of New York every day. It doesn't matter though. My single-tail and I welcome fresh meat.

Don't ever interrupt me.

So, my slave is going to be playing his guitar for the Goddesses of Parthenon party tomorrow. A while ago, he decided to rehearse his performances right in front of me while I barely got work done. Ugh. Why tonight of all nights?

Then I had an idea.

While he was still obnoxiously strumming away, I rose out of my seat and sauntered my way towards him. He looked up from his guitar. My sweet smile made him shiver down to his very bones. I loved the way his eyes glowed in fright when he looked at me. But it was too late. My claws shot for his chest and clamped his nipples, hard.

 He instantly became my own little instrument that squeals like a pig. See? I can play music just fine.

Next time, don't mess with me when I'm busy.

Goddesses of Parthenon.

Goddess Hera Chevalier, Mistress Toro, Mistress Klara Manson and Mistress Eden...and yours truly: Mistress Ariana.

All of us will be under one roof tomorrow at the Parthenon. And each and every one of you subs will be tomorrow night's dinner for our whips to take a bite into. One question. Are you ready?

Surrender your body and bring it over here at The Parthenon, tomorrow from 9:00 PM to 4:00 AM. Your doom will taste delicious to us. Or if you're the type to sit back and enjoy the dark, sinful ambiance, then you'll feel safe to. The Parthenon opens its welcoming arms to everyone.

Don't forget to bring a rose for Goddess Hera. She might thank you with a hard beating on your ass!