I dream of a temple lined with velvet, walls covered in rare vinyl records from every corner of the world — tributes from my devotees. Each record tells a story, each sound a secret, each groove a confession.
My fantasy is to be surrounded by a vast, dec
I’m not your typical Domme. I’m a living fetish, wrapped in velvet and vinyl. Think Cleopatra with a needle, a vampira who collects black relics, a queen whose body is an altar.
My shows are daily rituals: sometimes playful, sometimes dark, always intoxicating. I surround myself with velvet, I caress the black discs of my collection, I whisper your name as I turn each record into a relic of devotion.
I don’t want your obedience, I want your offerings. Every vinyl you gift me is more than a record — it’s your soul pressed in black, forever part of my temple. The turntable is my throne, and only the worthy will crown me with it.
I’m eternal, I’m decadent, I’m addictive. You don’t pay me… you offer to me.