The Sad(istic) Clown Diaries

I’ve been having some interesting experiences now that I am out on my own as an Independent Dominatrix trying to collect a niche clientele. A few weeks ago I was contacted by a friend of a friend who was looking to be Dommed for the first time by a pro. The person who reached out to me is an attractive young man, younger than I at least, whose initial desire was to be fucked in the ass with a strap-on by me. I had to explain to him that I don’t generally do strap-on penetration with clients because it feels too much like actual sex to me and I don’t enjoy performing hardcore sex acts for money. It isn’t that I have some moral objection to prostitution, in fact quite the opposite, I have a lot of respect for that line of sex work when performed by consenting adults (pimp-free) and know quite a few working girls/boys. It just doesn’t work for me. Not my thing. I’ve tried it, the strap-on Domme play bit, and I’ve found that I do not enjoy it with strangers that I’m not actually physically attracted to.

D/s strap-on play is a really common activity within the BDSM community and I recognize its importance as a power exchange activity. But one of the problems I have with fucking a heterosexual man in the ass as the “ultimate submission” is that the idea of being penetrated like a woman (within this context) is the most degrading, submissive thing he can do. That’s not ALWAYS the way a male sub feels about this particular act of submission, but often times it is. It bothers me. Much like dressing a man up in half-assed drag and then humiliating him by calling him a “slut” and a “sissy” bothers me. I don’t think there is anything wrong with or degrading about being a bio woman, a trans woman or a man who enjoys dressing as a woman sometimes. I am sensitive to these particular branches of fetish role-playing and choose for the most part not to partake. I don’t judge the people who get off on this sort of thing, I just don’t usually get down with it.

Photo Credit: Mandy-Lyn

After explaining all of this to my potential young slave, he said that he was curious to explore the things that I do enjoy doing. I began talking with him about things like sensory deprivation, tease and denial, impact play and bondage because those are a few classic favorites. He (it) seemed very excited to try pretty much anything I wanted to do, so I decided to move forward and work out a time to book a session. I was busier than usual at the time and about to go make a record in San Francisco, so we exchanged numbers to discuss details further and I told him that I’d see him when I returned.

(Note: Ok so as I mentioned, this person is a young guy with whom I share many mutual friends. He contacted me initially on Facebook and then began following me on Twitter. He is really good at Twitter.)

I was morbidly hungover one morning while still in San Francisco and was on Twitter complaining about the brutal case of hangover hornies I had and how I was in need of “PBD” (pretty boy dick). Suddenly my phone went off and it was a text from the potential slave boi, wishing me luck in finding “PBD”. It made me laugh right away, the fact that he was already so enamored with me that my sexual satisfaction was of immediate importance to him, though he would not be involved in it. I wrote back something casual and the texting snowballed from there. His charm immediately impressed me as I quickly realized that this may turn into something more than a straight forward and professional D/s relationship. Fine by me, I thought happily to myself. I’d been complaining for months about wanting a young man to just be sexually devoted to me and not demand any of my emotions. I’d had enough of “feelings” to last me a fucking lifetime. I was ready for some reliable yet emotionally detachedزًوًررزوًززىًزىدىزًررزىؤزززىىىىىىىًًىىوىوىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىووىزىوىىىىىىىززىىىىزىىىىىوىىىىىىىىوىزىىووزىىزىىىىىىىووىىىزىىوىوىزوىىىىىوىززىزززىززززىىوىىىىىىىىىىىىىىىزىوىىىىزوىىىىىىزىززىىىززىززىىززززززززىززززىىزززىزززىىززىززىىزززىززوززىززززززىزززىزىىىززززززىىززززىززززززززززىىززززززززىززززىىىززززززززىزززززززىىززىىزززززىزززززززززززززىىىىزززززززززززززززززىزززززززىززززىىزىزززززززززززززززززززززززززتتتتزتتتزتتزتتتزتتتتتتزتزتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتتىزتزتىىىزوًوترزىزىزوىىوززىروو filth.

(Note: I wrote this from my phone and have no idea how that Arabic glitch happened but I really like it.)

image copy 2
Photo Credit: Hether Fortune

He immediately started talking about how badly he wanted to go down on me, claiming he could and would do it for hours and that he’d do anything to earn the privilege. Not bad, eh? Haha. I figured, fuck it, and resolved to let him serve me orally as soon as I got back to LA, pro bono (lol), and if I liked it/him I’d let the relationship evolve sexually and personally rather than professionally.

Next week I’ll tell you what happened, if you’re lucky.

Header Photo Credit: Anne-Marie Vassilliou