Elizabeth Swan

The Comedy Dominatrix and her Tradesmen

By Elizabeth Swan on

I am in a good mood lately. Most of the time actually. Whilst the world seems to be going crazy I am quite happy in my home getting it ready for my little addition. I am finally getting a cat.

I am also getting my house finished off. It was last decorated in the 70’s. Plastic folding doors, avocado bathroom, the lot. It has been quite a journey to get it this far. I did all the graft myself. Ripped out the kitchen, knocked down stud walls, removed all the old plaster and filled five skips. Then I got the professionals in.

However it is always a juggling act to keep my BDSM equipment from being spotted…

I lost one plumber because his apprentice saw my Sardax drawing. He took him outside and told him something...and I have literally not seen them since. You may have seen the picture. If not here it is;



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As you can see I am sitting on a huge electrical box and smiling as I hold my wand. My slave is attached to a cross and looking terrified. Sardax is very good. It is clearly me. And so every time I text with a new job they are ‘too busy.’

Damn. Difficult to find good plumbers.

Next up was my electrician. He was more tricky to hide kit from. Doing a full rewiring you see. I would move my boxes from room to room and when I couldn’t get them out in time I put dust sheets over them. One day I noticed a sheet had been moved slightly. I thought it was my imagination until the next time I saw him.

“What do you do?” He asked while I made him a cup of tea. Always prepared, I told him the truth and left out the domming. I work in the theatre and write. He smiled and said “Most people I know who have made money are a bit dodgy. Have to be in this world. Otherwise it’s just grunt work till you die from a heart attack.”

I like him a lot. He still does work for me.

Then there is my handyman. I showed him my new workplace and told him what I wanted. I said that the downstairs area was a dressing room and I wanted a raised catwalk. He raised his eyebrows and made notes. Then upstairs he made more notes of the floor I wanted.

“Is this a dressing room as well?”

“No, this is the classroom.”

His eyebrows raised again and this time I told him what I do. Theatre, writing and a bit of domination.

He laughed. “It’s been an odd week. I just found out that my friend works at a brothel.”

So he’s not running for the hills. Good news.

Which brings me to yesterday.

I was writing a story for Patreon when my kitchen fitter knocked on my bedroom door. He said he needed a part from Screwfix. I said I would order it so I opened their website.

“What size and which material?”

“I’ll show you.” he said and before I knew it he was sitting next to me as I frantically closed my Elizabeth Swan windows. Patreon, website and email. I thought I had got away with it. Later that day I saw the note I had on my table right in front of where I was working. It was from my last trip to London.



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I suspect that it is possible, just possible, that the cat is out of the bag.

Elizabeth Swan


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