…and found out how bad I am at it.
I guess my fascination with BDSM and domination started after I read a certain infamous trilogy (still haven’t seen the films), and I was introduced to world that I knew about, but had never given much thought. Of course I’ve seen those programmes on the telly about the Dominatrix who looks like a normal housewife until you see the man in her back garden, wearing nothing but a gimp mask as he mows her lawn. But apart from that, I had never really given it much thought.
Then I started writing erotic romance.
At first, it was very “vanilla” romance – nothing much more than a few scenes of oral sex, missionary and the occasional doggy-style. The Black Door stumbled over an adult shop, and the possibility of alternative lifestyles. Then I wrote One Night in Edinburgh, and introduce toys. My internet search history suddenly became more tainted than it already was. I kept writing. Taking Care of Leah was next, and broached the subject of BDSM.
Through networking, I have “met” quite a few Dommes, both lifestyle and pro. (Lifestyle means it’s a way of life, pro means they actually get paid for it and it’s classed as a job. I think.) And I started asking questions – what would be good for a beginner, a flogger or a paddle, sort of thing. Then, my friends suggested we went to Torture Gardens. It was great fun, and I met some really interesting people. My interest peaked, and I started talking to Hubby about the idea of being a Dominatrix. It sounded fun!
I started writing a book (working title “A Different Kind of Therapy), due to be released next year by Evernight Publishing. It required research into domination used as a kind of therapy. I found the website FetLife – which is a bit like Facebook, only for those into a kinkier lifestyle. I created a persona. I didn’t want to show my face, so put up a picture of my feet. And got a lot of attention.
Instagram. OMG. Instagram is a hive of weirdness anyway, but put up a picture of your feet with #footfetish #footworship attached, and I was inundated with private messages asking for more pictures, and they were willing to pay me! Then someone contacted me on FetLife asking if I would be their Domme. They wanted someone they could send Amazon gift cards to in return for some conversation and humiliation. I giggled and showed Hubby.
Now, you have to remember that my marriage is based on trust. Hubby is a photographer and has done a lot of glamour photography. With his support, I decided to set up a Skype account, Twitter account, and have a go at this online Financial Domination. Essentially, men would pay me for conversation and to look at my feet.
£20’s worth of Amazon gift cards arrived in my newly set up email account. And after this “conversation” I felt the need to shower in bleach. Nope. Not happening again. I get regular dick-pics anyway, but being told what someone wanted to do all over my feet, and then lick them clean made me gag.
“You’re not dominating enough,” Hubby said. “You need to remember you’re in control. Abuse them.”
Apparently, I am not very good at being abusive or humiliating. If anything, I felt it was the other way around. For five days I tried to hurl abuse via email and Skype to weird men, and it got me nothing but weird, whiny, needy messages.
I’m not doing this right. I’m not intimidating. I’m fishing in a shallow pool. I am not a dominatrix. Accounts got closed and deleted, and I gave up my life as a Mistress.
I’d like to say it was fun while it lasted, but I’m not convinced that £20 is really worth the dick-pics, the accusations of being a prostitute, the nasty messages claiming I was “too fat to be a whore”. I’m pretty sure (because it’s the internet) that there are still pictures of my feet with an email address that no longer exists attached to it.
It was an experience. That’s for sure. And not one I intend to try again. However, it will make a good base for a possible storyline…