Hello 2016, and a rather belated welcome. It’s a good job I’m an expert at strutting in 8 Inch heels as I’ve seriously hit the ground running this year. I can’t complain as it’s involved not only a private jet, but a castle too. Just your average January then.

Of course in between jet-setting and turret-hopping, I have continued my reign of terror at the Malice Palace. I really love nothing more than simply taking pleasure in my slave’s helplessness and suffering. Staring down at whatever carefully-crafted predicament I’ve created, I always ensure my subjects feel totally possessed, their only purpose to amuse and entertain, to serve and suffer. I so enjoy what I do.

As well as indulging in the above, I’ve also been working on a sparkling new website design. Yes it’s out with the old and in with the new, so keep your eyes peeled for the launch hopefully later this month. It’s rather different to my old design (which I can’t say I’m not a little sad about) but in the name of progress one can’t get too sentimental about such things.

It seems like the winds of change are blowing quite the gale right now – as if my overhaul wasn’t enough, Soho seems to be cleaning up its smutty act by the second, Poppers are under threat and Playboy Magazine has axed its naked centre-fold. Life will never be the same again.

The final example is an especially interesting sign of our times. As Hugh’s sales took a nose-dive, the suits scratched their heads and wondered why profits were dwindling. The answer seemed to lie in the infinite array of free Internet porn. The over-abundance of such explicit content means it just isn’t as coveted (or cash rich) as it once was. To put it simply, there’s just no money in the money-shot these days. And while there will always be a place for glamour and hardcore porn in this world, the authenticity and relate-ability of the girl-next-door means a magazine featuring a sweet selfie is suddenly selling faster than your overt erotica.

This particularly fascinates me as I’ve always believed genuinely intoxicating individuals play their cards a little closer to their (covered up) chests. What can I say, I appreciate the submissive mind is more expertly exploited than with something so crude, easy and obvious as a full-frontal. The glimpse of a seamed-stocking top or the promise of a slow, seductive strip-tease and the sudden addition of a blindfold reign supreme.

I might be more ‘vintage-minded’ than some but I thought I would break the habit of a life-time and indulge you with a little selfie shot. I’ve already thought of a million cruel uses for my selfie-stick….snap, thwack….probe…