I can feel it when it shifts and it’s pure magic.
Initially they walk through my door motivated by horniness. Fantasies they’ve had complex relationships with for years. Often taboo. Sometimes suppressed, sometimes a secret driving need they’ve hidden from the world. A siren call that draws them again and again. The more they resist, the stronger it becomes…
And it is a siren call… And as a dominatrix, I am a siren of the deep… both feared and desired… but the song isn’t what it first appears. To be drowned in Mother Ocean is not the end but rather an initiation.
Our sexual fantasies are the map but they are not the destination. Over years of being a sex worker, I have learned to trust those fantasies and respect them as wise. In all their seeming twistedness hides the key to a great human mystery. A treasure of beingness that cannot be put in words.
Their desires and their horniness are only the driving force to get them on the path to begin with and then fuel to keep them there when the going gets tough or transport them blissfully. However, once there, horniness and desire take on different qualities. Arousal and erotic pleasure can still be very strong and beautiful but… it’s different. Orgasms are not the main crescendo they are commonly perceived to be… When engaged with intentional awareness, our sexual desires have the potential to lead us to something beyond.
Each person responds to a unique set of physical and psychological mechanisms in order to get there. That is why my art form is far more than learning how to safely suspend someone or stimulate the prostate correctly. It is about mapping each person’s unique erotic psyche and then translating that into an embodied experience. A consensual ritual or play scene.
In this form of play, we explore the nature of our emotions… the nature of power… we explore all the natural challenges of life as a human being and create allies of them. Then, once we are in aware and consensual relationship with our shadow selves, we discover an inner ocean beyond…
That place is not for me to describe for it lies beyond the part of our minds that think in linear logic or comprehend normal words. It is a different part of us, hinted at by myths, music, art and poets. It is personal and yours to discover.
One can only enter through surrender. Like all initiation rites around the world, submission in BDSM is a letting go of the old in order to open to the new. It is a consensual space within safe boundaries, where we explore ourselves. All of ourselves. Even the parts hidden in dark crevices of the mind. The part of the ocean that lies beyond bikini clad snorkelling reefs and sunny beaches…
He came to me because being humiliated by being turned into a sissy slut and then used, turned him on. It is my job as a siren, in service to the Ocean, to greet that arousal within him with acceptance and warmth. It is my job to entice it forth in him. Often this itself is a powerful shifting moment. To have our strange and unexplainable desires seen and praised is rare, even in this tindr sex soaked society.
However, it is also my job to see beyond that. As I said, it is the map, not the destination.
With a submissive kneeling before me, I become a predator, seeking out their mechanisms that will release them into subspace. I hunt them down, blocking their resistances and tricking their defences until they crack open.
This submissive required his masculinity to be challenged so he could surrender.
Stripping him of his wallet, phone, ID, clothes and even his name was only the beginning. I transformed him into the symbols of things he was taught to believe are weak and pathetic from boyhood. I turned him into a sissy. Pink frills, satin panties and bra, lipstick. I am not only turning him into the worst thing a boy can be… a girl… but I am also turning him into the very worst version of a girl… the lowliest thing… a slut… a whore… like me.
As a feminist sex worker, believe me, I am fully aware of how misogynistic that is. I am also aware that the way out, is through. Trying to avoid internalised misogyny is only a bypass. Entering into embodied play with intentional awareness, and an experienced guide, can create alignment where there was discord. Years of this kind of play has left me in no doubt of its potential power for positive transformation.
My role as Mistress, was to enact things that would trigger layer upon layer of surrender. To drawn him deeper and deeper into the sea.
Tied in bondage, all his sissy holes filled and locked down in chastity, I controlled everything… then to take it to the next level… his next breath, become my choice. Scissoring his face between my thighs, I smothered him with my pussy… waiting until he began to squirm in instinctual struggle then clamping my thighs down tighter to hold him for seconds more… seconds that feel like cavernous forever.
He gasped for air but was not panicked. He was in peace… trust had been established already and he yearned to submit further. Still his mind held on. Still there were barriers between him and the mysterious.
So again, I took his breath away… again… and again… I chose when he could breath and when he could not.
That is when it shifted. That’s when the magic happened. I could feel him dissolving and time slowing. I felt physical rushes through my body as the boundaries between us melted. My heart, a warm glowing sun, expanding beyond my body and surrounding us both. I am all powerful as he slips deeper and deeper under my control and yet we are both transported.
This time I only let him gasp for breath for a short moment before I filled his mouth with my urine, hot and free flowing… to him it felt like golden nectar from the Goddess… an intimate ingestion of part of me. A Oneness.
Together we floated in wonder, this stranger and I. Maybe it was a moment, maybe it was an hour…
He arrived thinking that ejaculation was the crowning moment and left having no orgasm at all but filled with amazement at what else is possible.
“That was mind-blowing! I didn’t know! I really didn’t know! I didn’t know!” he said glowing. Then he just stood there beaming because there were no words.