In the last month, I've engaged in juicy conversation with a group of women who are novices to the SM scene. Fearful to try some things on their own, they want to send Me, the Mistress, out on some fantasy adventures. In Mission Mistress, I set off for sex-capades and then report how My adventures go. Like to see Me make your fantasy My reality? Write it down and e-mail it to Me. For this adventure, I set out to schedule a session with a Professional Dominatrix.
I decide not to divulge that I'm a Professional Domina. I realize My desire to experience this session as a novice is moot, but at least I want the Dominatrix to believe that I'm not Her equal. I enter one of New York's Finest Dungeons.
"Do you know what you have in mind?" ask one of the Dungeon Managers.
"I was thinking about some spanking, loss of control, humiliation..."
"Hmmm..." she responds. "I am not used to women coming in and knowing exactly what they want. Usually if women come here at all, it is with a male partner--reluctantly."
(Not what I want to hear! What a way to comfort a new female client by divulging that you're not like most of the female clientele. I also ponder if this is more of a symptom experienced in dungeons rather than with Independent Mistresses. I, an Independent Mistress, which means that I do not work for a house, do not accept clients if they're reluctant.)
The Dungeon Manager gives Me a big leather portfolio full of photographs of the house Mistresses. She also gives Me a questionnaire. There are the rudimentary questions about medical problems and pain tolerance. The next section asks Me to rate My interest in various acts. It's a huge list, including humiliation, sensory deprivation, golden showers, and more. Also, a section lets you pick out role-playing options and what your Mistress will wear.
(This is a big No, No for Me! My Mistress should wear what she wants to wear, and given My limits, she should determine how the scene is going to go...not I. But, this is one of the 'problems' of Pro-Domination: Many clients think that they should be in control because they are paying and it's their fantasy.)
When I finish with the questionnaire, it's all there on paper--My desires tabulated and rated. No one has to do any guesswork, not even I.
A Goddess dressed in a black lace bustier enters the room. With her perfectly lined lips she says, "Hi, how are you?" She's smiling while overlooking My questionnaire.
"I'm nervous," I admit. (It's refreshing to be on the other side of the table.)
She reminds Me that penetration and sexual acts of any kind are illegal and not part of the services provided. She tells Me that My safeword is 'mercy,' but I must use it properly, as in "Mercy, Mistress, please."
The Goddess motions Me to follow Her into another room. She asks, "Would you like to have an enema to start?"
("Don't leave that answer up to Me," I scream silently within Me.) I decide to throw the responsibility back into Her lap, "Whatever the Mistress wishes."
This throws Her for a loop, as She arches Her eyebrows and cocks Her head to the side. She says nothing and leads Me to the 'Medical Room.' The room is mirrored on all walls and the ceiling. There is a white vinyl table with restraining straps in the middle of the floor, and in the corner is a tank of oxygen and an IV stand. She orders Me to get completely undressed, and leaves the room.
When the Goddess returns, She fills an IV bag with bottled water (I appreciate this because I don't want unfiltered water in My intestines). I feel tubing slide inside My ass. She's very gentle and the water pressure is low. I quickly feel Myself filling up, and I say something to that effect.
She laughs loudly and says, "You can take it," reassuring but firm. "Hold it like a good girl."
I try to hold it like a good girl until I feel like I am going to burst. I say, "Mistress, I feel like I have to go." She instructs Me to walk naked through the lobby to the bathroom. When I return to the room, there the Goddess stands with a lovely metal paddle in Her hands.
She runs Her hands up and down My back and legs. She scolds Me, telling Me that I'm being punished for not taking the whole enema bag. The spanking gets progressively harder. My ass becomes so raw and the smacks feel so intense that I'm convinced She must be using the metal paddle already. She whispers into My ear, "Ask nicely for more--I know the good girl wants to."
I think I'm nearing My limit, so I say, "Please, can I have a little more, Ma'am?" She giggles madly and tells Me how cute and well behaved I am. "Whatever pleases the Mistress," I say.
She comforts Me by rubbing My sore ass and whispers, "I didn't get to everything on your list, but I hope you enjoyed your experience." (Although I appreciate the gesture, I didn't expect to get to everything I wanted, but what the Mistress wanted.)
I do think that a session would make a great gift for a friend. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize the session lacked something. The Mistress knew I 'needed' discipline because it was all on paper, beforehand. That's nothing like the moment when a Top puts Me in My place in a scene because She has watched Me in the world and knows just what I need. A 'girl' with instinct and courage can push My buttons. This is the dilemma of sex work, such as Professional Domination: The sex worker cannot really know you, unless you are a regular client. But then again, maybe that's what many clients want: a highly depersonalized, contained interaction. Not I. Mercy, Mistress, please.
I decide not to divulge that I'm a Professional Domina. I realize My desire to experience this session as a novice is moot, but at least I want the Dominatrix to believe that I'm not Her equal. I enter one of New York's Finest Dungeons.
"Do you know what you have in mind?" ask one of the Dungeon Managers.
"I was thinking about some spanking, loss of control, humiliation..."
"Hmmm..." she responds. "I am not used to women coming in and knowing exactly what they want. Usually if women come here at all, it is with a male partner--reluctantly."
(Not what I want to hear! What a way to comfort a new female client by divulging that you're not like most of the female clientele. I also ponder if this is more of a symptom experienced in dungeons rather than with Independent Mistresses. I, an Independent Mistress, which means that I do not work for a house, do not accept clients if they're reluctant.)
The Dungeon Manager gives Me a big leather portfolio full of photographs of the house Mistresses. She also gives Me a questionnaire. There are the rudimentary questions about medical problems and pain tolerance. The next section asks Me to rate My interest in various acts. It's a huge list, including humiliation, sensory deprivation, golden showers, and more. Also, a section lets you pick out role-playing options and what your Mistress will wear.
(This is a big No, No for Me! My Mistress should wear what she wants to wear, and given My limits, she should determine how the scene is going to go...not I. But, this is one of the 'problems' of Pro-Domination: Many clients think that they should be in control because they are paying and it's their fantasy.)
When I finish with the questionnaire, it's all there on paper--My desires tabulated and rated. No one has to do any guesswork, not even I.
A Goddess dressed in a black lace bustier enters the room. With her perfectly lined lips she says, "Hi, how are you?" She's smiling while overlooking My questionnaire.
"I'm nervous," I admit. (It's refreshing to be on the other side of the table.)
She reminds Me that penetration and sexual acts of any kind are illegal and not part of the services provided. She tells Me that My safeword is 'mercy,' but I must use it properly, as in "Mercy, Mistress, please."
The Goddess motions Me to follow Her into another room. She asks, "Would you like to have an enema to start?"
("Don't leave that answer up to Me," I scream silently within Me.) I decide to throw the responsibility back into Her lap, "Whatever the Mistress wishes."
This throws Her for a loop, as She arches Her eyebrows and cocks Her head to the side. She says nothing and leads Me to the 'Medical Room.' The room is mirrored on all walls and the ceiling. There is a white vinyl table with restraining straps in the middle of the floor, and in the corner is a tank of oxygen and an IV stand. She orders Me to get completely undressed, and leaves the room.
When the Goddess returns, She fills an IV bag with bottled water (I appreciate this because I don't want unfiltered water in My intestines). I feel tubing slide inside My ass. She's very gentle and the water pressure is low. I quickly feel Myself filling up, and I say something to that effect.
She laughs loudly and says, "You can take it," reassuring but firm. "Hold it like a good girl."
I try to hold it like a good girl until I feel like I am going to burst. I say, "Mistress, I feel like I have to go." She instructs Me to walk naked through the lobby to the bathroom. When I return to the room, there the Goddess stands with a lovely metal paddle in Her hands.
She runs Her hands up and down My back and legs. She scolds Me, telling Me that I'm being punished for not taking the whole enema bag. The spanking gets progressively harder. My ass becomes so raw and the smacks feel so intense that I'm convinced She must be using the metal paddle already. She whispers into My ear, "Ask nicely for more--I know the good girl wants to."
I think I'm nearing My limit, so I say, "Please, can I have a little more, Ma'am?" She giggles madly and tells Me how cute and well behaved I am. "Whatever pleases the Mistress," I say.
She comforts Me by rubbing My sore ass and whispers, "I didn't get to everything on your list, but I hope you enjoyed your experience." (Although I appreciate the gesture, I didn't expect to get to everything I wanted, but what the Mistress wanted.)
I do think that a session would make a great gift for a friend. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize the session lacked something. The Mistress knew I 'needed' discipline because it was all on paper, beforehand. That's nothing like the moment when a Top puts Me in My place in a scene because She has watched Me in the world and knows just what I need. A 'girl' with instinct and courage can push My buttons. This is the dilemma of sex work, such as Professional Domination: The sex worker cannot really know you, unless you are a regular client. But then again, maybe that's what many clients want: a highly depersonalized, contained interaction. Not I. Mercy, Mistress, please.
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