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Control Freak: Discovering the dominatrix within - By - June 17, 2015 - SF Weekly
SF Weekly

Control Freak: Discovering the dominatrix within

“I'll be back at 11, you just act like a peasant. I got a bow on my panties because my ass is a present.” Nicki Minaj's voice was bumping hard from the tinny speaker of the iPhone propped up against my truck's dashboard when she was interrupted by an incoming call.

Though I'm notorious for sending unexpected calls to voicemail, something told me I should answer this one.

It was an old college friend who had recently decided to experiment with some power play in the bedroom — with her on top. The results had been electric; her partner loved it, and she was surprised by how much she also enjoyed it.

“I didn't know who else to call,” she said exuberantly, like she had just gotten off Splash Mountain and her shirt was still wet.

“I'm glad you called me,” I said. “I know exactly how you feel.”

Power, and the consensual exchange of it, is my favorite thing to play with in the bedroom.

I entered the world of BDSM as a submissive, hungry for experiences that played with pain and situations that allowed me to give up control. But when I entered the sex industry, customers and fans often approached me by saying, “Hello Mistress, how may I serve you?” Maybe it was my dark hair and Bettie Page-inspired bangs, or maybe they simply saw something in me I had yet to discover.

The idea of being a leather- or latex-clad dominatrix torturing sniveling, submissive men didn't turn me on. But I was great at going through the motions, and I did enjoy how theatrical being a dominant allowed me to be. So long before I ever played on top in my own bedroom, I had plenty of practice while on the clock. I became astute at playing the role of a sadistic goddess or cruel mistress, but these fantasies belonged to the men who paid me. In my own fantasies, I always cast myself in the innocent, submissive role, until one fateful night in a fancy San Francisco hotel.

I had seen this particular client several times, whenever he came in town for business. That night, I had already given him a hard spanking, put clothespins on his nipples, and sat on his face, so before I moved from the bedroom to the bathroom so I could piss in his mouth, I needed a break.

“Bring me a glass of wine,” I told him as I reclined slowly on the white sofa, trying to maintain my mistress-ness despite my growing fatigue.

He walked over to the bottle of dry Bordeaux he had brought for me to enjoy during our session, poured me a glass, and began to walk back to me.

“Wait,” I said.

“I want you to crawl.”

His eyes lit up as he dropped down to his knees and began navigating the difficult task of crawling across the room while not spilling red wine all over the expensive hotel suite's carpet.

Watching this wealthy, powerful man, naked and struggling to complete a task for my pleasure, gave me an unexpected stirring beneath my vintage lingerie. Was I turned on by this man's submission?

After that night, my arousal while playing the dominant role only grew. I found myself caring less about my client's fantasies and more about fulfilling my own.

Eventually I started playing the dominant role off the clock, which opened a whole new world of possibilities.

I realized my dominance was my own, and did not have to look like anyone else's version. Being called mistress and slinking around in a latex catsuit didn't do much for me, but riding a beefy guy around like a pony and slapping him with a riding crop while he calls me princess was a different story.

I think I had been so caught up in the idea of what a dominant female should and shouldn't be, I had never thought to examine and make space for the dominant desires that I had.

Back in my truck, I congratulated my old friend on the discovery of her inner dominant and welcomed her to the sisterhood of girl bullies. I said goodbye, placed my iPhone back on my dashboard, and put on a new playlist.

“Boys only want love if it's torture,” sang Taylor Swift.

I turned up the little speaker as high as it could go.