#2. Being a Dominatrix Doesn't Involve Intercourse
Many people think that being a dominatrix means being a high-end prostitute. I mean no offense to prostitutes, but that is not my job. I've never ever had sex with any of my clients, and I never ever would.
Which means I'm just like every other profession that's completely misrepresented in porn.
That's not what it's about, and in fact that would actually ruin our whole dynamic, if they were to see me in a vulnerable, naked state. There's a reason why you picture black leather or latex catsuits when you think of a dominatrix. Contact between in-person clients and myself would, at most, mean letting them be a human footstool or getting a well-placed slap across their little bitch faces. Once again, for many guys, it's not about the sex act -- it's something much more complicated. A need they can't get filled anywhere else.
Now, there are guys who do want to cross that line -- some have trouble seeing the difference between me, the real person, and the character they're paying to stick clothespins on their cock. That's one reason I've actually phased out most of my in-person domming sessions in favor of phone sessions, because hey, I get to work in my PJs. I work for a phone sex company as well as owning my own business working through a platform, so my take-home pay is between 70 cents and $1.19 per minute for my time. For physical sessions, I usually charge between $100 or $200 per hour. It's good money, and none of it requires showing off any more skin than the average nun.
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And shit, if that's what they want, I can do that too.
Think about that -- all that time, and all that money, working through men's sexual fantasies, and there's never any actual nudity or actual sex. I'm just helping people act on the sexual fantasies in their mind, involving fetishes so specific and peculiar they'd never naturally come across another person who shares them. Which again brings us around to the real reason I stay so busy ...
#1. For Many Guys, This Is the Therapy They're Not Getting Elsewhere
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You'd be surprised how much time I spend talking to my clients. Well, obviously, but I mean talking. You know the kind of talking the stereotypical girlfriends of the world always want. Emotional support is a much bigger aspect of the job than you'd expect. Not only do I have to get the guys off, I have to then assure them afterward that they aren't weird.
Keep in mind sometimes they have just instructed me to tell them the exact opposite.
That's why I work really hard on trying to understand the fetishes my clients have. For balloon popping, it's the anticipation; for the shrinking guys, it's the loss of power; for the yak guy ... actually I haven't figured that one out yet. Psychotherapists are starting to recognize the value sex work can play in therapy, though. Australia's currently gripped in a debate over whether or not their national disability insurance should cover "sex surrogates" (if you're interested, there's a documentary called Scarlet Road you should watch).
I've had guys who were coming out to their family who came to me first for support, to get pumped up. I've had a guy stop in the middle of a call and start crying, because he missed his ex-wife and needed to talk about it. I've given relationship advice -- hell I have even checked out guys' online dating profiles so I could give them pointers from a woman's perspective.
"Don't mention produce or bovine animals until at least the fifth date."
I actually had one client who was into extreme humiliation -- he was black, and racial degradation was his particular turn-on. I got so hard on him during one session that he broke down and started crying. I wound up learning that he'd grown up in a very strict household, where men weren't allowed to show emotion. Our session was the first time he'd ever broken down and cried about all of the horrible stuff he'd encountered as a kid. Getting that emotional release helped him deal with some demons. He never did another session with me, but he thanked me by email afterward, and now every week for the last few years he's sent me a $100 check as thanks.
Related Reading: Still feeling sexy? We wrote an article with an actual real-life prostitute to make that feeling better, uh, informed. We also talked to a cop about his crazy stories, because Cracked listens to BOTH sides of the law. If you'd like to get pissed off, take a look inside the Troubled Teen industry. And if you've got a story to share with Cracked, you can tell it here.