It has been about a year since I worked in the dungeon.
My experiences were, truly magnificent,
And freakish,
And enduring,
And…disgusting.
Time spent, now representing a collection of moments that at once were both exhilarating and anti-climactic.
I have wanted to write about these moments for quite awhile.
But, something stopped me.
Rather some things stopped me.
One, I wasn’t sure about my ability to fully process my experiences in a mindful manner…understanding the complex emotions of dominant and submissive.
Two, I wasn’t sure what I THOUGHT exactly OF my experiences.
Three, I felt protective.
I felt, and still feel, protective of my fellow dominas (with whom I developed a feeling of real sisterhood), and my clients (who trusted me to handle their bodies with force, and their shame with respect and empathy).
However, time has passed and I want to write.
My desire is to process my experience through my blog, while remaining in the context of “the other”…to detail the reality of this limited, yet impactful, relationship between the “hired” dominatrix and her client.
I would be untruthful if I said I wasn’t afraid…of both my reactions (“I cannot believe I did that?”) and the reactions of others (“You did that?). But life, when it is truly lived, is about confronting and dancing with our fears…is it not?
I hope you like to dance…
THINGS THE DUNGEON TAUGHT ME
LESSON 1.
We had a uniform at the dungeon. All black leather bikini with garter belt and seamed black stockings with black pumps. This was deemed the epitome of what every client would want form his or her domina.
I hated it.
In the same way I dislike any “rule” that represses my ability to express my fashion sense. I mean BDSM offers a myriad of dress-up opportunities. However, I soon learned the benefits of the (hated) uniform.
One day, a client requested latex.
We were typically told about a client’s “special desires” prior to our appointment, as such:
(in the clippy Czech accent of the dungeon’s mistress)
“Mistress Charly! Please come here! Today you will have Dave. He likes latex. You will need to wear latex. He also likes cock and ball torture and light bondage. That’s it. Oh and just spank his ass a little bit…not too much, or he’ll get bitchy.”
I skipped to my locker thrilled for my first chance to don my tremendously pricey, $800 plus, custom-fit latex outfit…for Dave. Well, really it was all about me. I failed to calculate the…less fashionable, more function, aspects of latex…
The session started as usual with introductions, price negotiation, and a discussion of desires and limitations.
I was ready to go, and so was Dave.
Dave had requested the largest room in the dungeon, with the worst ventilation. The room had a door to the outside, however when this door was shut (as Dave requested for our session) the temperature in the room ranged from muggy to jungle-hot.
I began the session…with spread eagle bondage rigging across the large leather table.
However, very soon something else became very clear:
the tenuous and often oscillating relationship between dominatrix and submissive in a dungeon environment.
Straddling my client’s body as I taunted and teased with all manner of “non-demeaning insults” (at his request).
“Look at you, all tied up! Helpless…defenseless…I…can…do…ANYTHING I WANT!”
But, Dave was a seasoned sub’ and he had chosen well.
DRIP.
DRIP.
DRIP.
Went the perspiration…pouring…from my sexy latex…and onto Dave…quickly turning my dramatic rope staging into a sweaty, slippery mess.
And faster than you can say, “slip and slide,”
I lost my grip and fell, star-fish style…right on top of Dave.
To his great delight, I might add.
The “accident” was followed quickly by a satiated sigh of,
“Oh Mistress, you spoil me too much with your delicious sweat!”
And just like that, I realized who was really in control of the situation.
Later I learned this was a scene orchestrated again and again on “new girls”; a scene with a predictable outcome:
The dominatrix being placed at the pleasure of the submissive, in a way that was quite out of her control.
I wiped up the table and proceeded with the session…making sure I was extra rough when I slapped his cock and balls with the whip and withholding of any further accommodating behavior on my part…still I couldn’t help thinking:
“He’s gotten everything he wants already, and here I am feeling disgusted, dirty and inept.”
And so goes one of my first lessons from the dungeon:
Submission is the only pathway to true dominance.
I could have considered this interaction a failure on my part. I had entered the session feeling in control and confident concerning my skills as a competent dominatrix, and left the session feeling embarrassed and resembling a wet-cat.
Except I also left with a healthy respect for the skills of a seasoned submissive, who grasped the nuances of power and was unafraid to playfully volley that dynamic in the safety of a shared intimate experience.
If I failed at all, it was in my inability to adopt his same acceptance of the multi-faceted nature of power.
It was an important lesson…not only applicable in the dungeon, in life.
How many times have you faced opportunities that require both competence and the ability to integrate powerlessness?
At work, in school, in relationships…in virtually every aspect of our lives that provides an opportunity for growth, asks this of us:
to be strong and to be weak…it’s just how gracefully we accept that dialectic, that determines how we move forward.
Good times, it’s nice to revisit such a vibrant part of my past, Thank you… xxx c.
