The Fetish Emporium (Manchester) Fisting & Strap On Party 

On the 7th June 2017, 10 Mistresses will gather at The Fetish Emporium, Manchester, for a full day of all out anal assault. You’ve been warned – The Fetish Emporium Manchester Mistresses are all highly skilled, sadistic and very experienced.

Presenting the full cast:
Mistress Saphire

Mistress Sheba

Mistress Eclipse

Mistress Sarah Jessica

Miss Buffy Brown

Miss Kitty 

Princess Aurora 

Miss Ruby Marks

And myself, of course.

Will you be there? I do hope so.

Advance bookings through application only:

Tribute for a whole day of play will be £250 a deposit is required upon booking your very limited place. 

Manchester Mistress Natasha Poole


A Forced Shutdown – Sensory Deprivation

The quieter you become, the more you can hear…


I’m not sure I can explain just how much I adore having a restrained, immobile, helpless body at my feet….but I’ll try.

 It’s well known that sensory deprivation has been used as a method of torture by the military for a long time. Long-term sensory deprivation is known to cause physical and mental exhaustion, anxiety, depression and even hallucinations.

However, (bear with me) and this is the crux of the matter, short-term sessions of sensory deprivation are incredibly beneficial, relaxing and similar to meditation. It can have the same effect on the brain as some anti-anxiety drugs; I am aware that this sounds like a sadist trying to convince a submissive to hand themselves over to my latex-gloved hands, but nothing says ‘mutually beneficial’ like a thorough SD session.  

Give yourself freely to me. Allow me to remove you from all external stimuli. Allow your mind to slow down, be free from distraction, become untethered to your body, and enter sub space* (of which more later). Experience a purer sense of being. Dormant creativity can be reignited. Stagnant areas of your brain will be kick started into action.

There are different modus operandi I like to employ. I may place subs in a leather body bag, complete with a hood of my choice (with breath restricting capability if I feel that is necessary). I may choose to play music; I may not. I may leave the sub immobile for an unspecified period of time. (Being ignored is a gift that only the finest Dommes can bestow correctly).

Sometimes mummification may be required, which renders even the most fidgety sub completely prone. I love to use cling film. Very satisfying. I decide which body parts are left unwrapped for me to torment.

Occasionally I will suspend the sub, after firmly securing the leather straps. A hood will be worn.

You may of course be strapped to the rotating St Andrew’s cross (few things give me more pleasure in life than seeing an inverted, naked sub).
*Sub space occurs when a slave has completely given control to me. I have broken them down as much as I want to. They do not exist as anything other than in relation to me. The real world ceases to matter or even exist as a tangible entity. Sub space is an intense place to be, and can take some time to come out of after a session. You may feel light-headed and disorientated. You may be lucky enough to find yourself there if you’re brave enough to enter my chamber.

Manchester Mistress Natasha Poole©


I am an experienced, mature, educated and cultured, naturally red-headed, Manchester Mistress looking for loyal submissives and slaves.


I operate out of a fully equipped dungeon in Manchester. All potential scenes are to be discussed beforehand and soft/hard limits. Safewords will be discussed.

As a pro domme, a financial tribute is a requirement of servitude.

Serious offers only considered. Timewasters will be despatched promptly.


Please note – I offer a BDSM SERVICE. I do not offer intimate body worship or an any sexual services – there are no exceptions.


You are fully aware that the contents of this website are of a sexually explicit nature and may contain accounts and images of BDSM themes.
This site contains fetish and BDSM adult material of a sado-masochistic nature.If you enter this site you will not permit any minor to see material you find here.
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Anything implied or inferred within these pages is not to be taken as inducement for payment for anything other than time.
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I decided that he needed some training. A compulsive masturbator, he was too keen to cum and very orgasm-fixated. All in all, not a very satisfactory state of affairs. He needed to know that he was mine.
I arrived at his house wearing a trench coat, stockings and stilettos. A little cliched perhaps. But guaranteed to send all men into a priapic frenzy.
I let myself in. As agreed, he was kneeling, naked by the door, his erection already ridiculously hard.

I slipped off my coat and made him look at me in all my fucking naked Mistress glory. I wanted to torment him with my ass, tits (nipples hard from travelling in just a coat…) and my cunt (which let me down by inevitably being wet – my mind is strong but my body is sometimes weak – the curse of an out-of-control sex drive).

I put his hood on and made him lie face down (I didn’t need to see that pathetic cock)
He made no sound while I walked up and down his back. He uttered not even the tiniest squeak when I turned him over and crushed his cock (looking swollen and painful and desperate) with my heel.
The only sound he emitted was a sort of strangled cry when I dripped the hot wax onto his balls.

After making him clean up the mess he had made with wax (it gets everywhere) I sat him in a chair with his hands tied behind his back.
I brushed the tip of his cock with my lips and gave it one, long, lingering, wet lick. 30 seconds with the Doxy (google it) and I had put him out of his misery. I’m not totally heartless. I just have a blackened heart.
I made him orgasm because I could, and to teach him that he belongs to Mistress Natasha. He had ceased to function as an individual. Free will (and all the autonomy, spontaneity and impulses that most people experience) was a distant memory for him.

I left him kneeling by the door, and as far as I know, he’s still there.

The Order Of Things

Don’t look at me.
Don’t you dare raise your pathetic head and look at me.
Look at the floor.
Don’t stop looking at the floor. If you stop looking at the floor I will fucking kick you. Hard. In the balls.
If I want you to raise your head I will tell you, you pathetic, worthless excuse of a man.
Do you understand?
Do you understand?!
Did I say you could speak?
Nod your fucking head you moron.
You need to learn your place in the order of things. And your place is beneath my feet. It is at the end of my whip. It is wherever I say it is.
Worm, I am going to make you wish you’d never set foot through my door….
Now bend the fuck over…