sapiosexual

Photographic Evidence. Los Angeles. by sciarra

I've been updating less, on the phone less, taking fewer appointments. I have spent most of the winter in Boston where I have a core of loyalists and business to attend to. 

However. I did get to the west coast briefly where I met an old friend and talented photographer, Eric A. Reid. We spent a lazy afternoon shooting before heading out in Hollywood for the evening. 

We have collaborated in the past and 2015 will bring more developments from this artistic partnership. 

A voyeuristic sliver of the day...

A reminder of your general unworthiness...and everything that I am. 

xo, Bardot.

Plagiarism, Stalking, and Psychotic Obsession. by sciarra

A few months ago, I was met with a copy of myself. 

A woman who had clearly studied and reproduced my site, as well as attempting to speak in similar tones. I discovered her as she was conversing with someone with whom I had a previous relationship. 

I have finally submitted a DMCA to her website, and while it pains me to have to involve myself at all, it seems as if my tolerance has been mistaken for weakness. 

This has gone too far to be obscured.

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American Mistress. by sciarra

You may know me. I am am a Mistress. Sovereign.

And, despite pageantry and many overwrought notions and confusions, what this means is that I belong to no man and I rest in no city. 

from 'rock and roll night club' only you, only you, only you can treat me like you do and only she, only she, only she chose me when i'm blue so sorry, boo, we're through i'm done getting over her i'm done getting over her my hands hurt, i think

Having navigated a course through some of the grittiest male-dominated environments, I have run the risk of sacrificing femininity in order to be considered viable professionally. In these worlds, being attractive is a double-edged blade. Leverage attraction and walk the line between objectification and advantage. Playing down attraction has its own set of risks, and conveys less upside.

I don't play games that i can't win. 

Earlier in my career, My natural sexual and social dominance frequently disarmed (or upset) my male superiors. I began my career in the pre-crash private equity landscape. The Wild West.

The men whom I worked with could be categorized in two ways: Brilliant and misunderstood alpha males. And the others slightly more bitter drones, the betas, who would never achieve the pinnacle of success in the industry. They lacked that je ne sais quoi. The distinctions were obvious to Me, even as a 22 year-old, and they would be to anyone with passing interest in power dynamics.  

Representing not only intellectual force, but having the distinct advantage of sexual magnetism, I was a direct threat to the latter category. And a thrill to the former. 

I enjoyed my unspoken role as a crowbar. I grew into My social position.

Front row seats to the American Financial Apocalypse and a World Class education in owning the minds of men. In the proverbial American West, there are no rules. The one Law is "Do what must be done." There is no refuge for the weak. 

As I became more experienced in my Power, I naturally moved into more esoteric chains of industry where my skills are properly leveraged. It's only natural that I have been tasked with carving out a completely singular niche. My natural abilities and evident status have rendered it impossible for Me to live a prescribed life.

I live a freedom not available or fathomable to most. I hold the key to your most profound fantasies and your most-concealed fears. But, I enjoy the company of men only on My own terms. The most-deserving relish their role in My life as servants, benefactors, or fellow wolves with which to run.

My Continuous Dynamic Equilibrium. 

I straddle the line between the demimonde and the mainstream world on a daily basis. It's part of what creates a sizzling edge to all of my interactions with men. It's part of what gives me perspective to both sides of the table (if you will). For this reason, I specialize in discrete, bespoke arrangements. 

The missing element in your existence. The edge. Nature.

Order out of Chaos. 


Stunning, isn't it?
xo, Bardot.