An essay by V
Shortly after I was introduced to him in a fetish club as a mistress, the dom looked at the females at the end of the leashes he held, one in each hand, and shot me a predatory grin. He simply assumed I was submissive.
I shrugged off his behaviour as typical. He had made the assumption so many male doms make — that all professional mistresses are really sub at heart, and that we’re just waiting for the right dom (him) to come along and add us to the harem of female doms who sub to him.
Countless doms have offered me the chance to sub to a ‘real’ dom, as if that would be a treat for me. Why do they do that? Is it an attempt to belittle me, an underhanded insult?
Or are they so enchanted with themselves that they can’t imagine why any young woman wouldn’t want to have her nipples tweaked by an overweight, cocky, washed-up old geezer?
This is one of many misconceptions I encounter as a professional dominatrix. Many people think dommes want to hurt men because men have hurt them; that we’re all a bunch of man-haters.
I can’t exactly explain my sadistic inclinations, but with the affection and concern I have for my play partners, I hardly think it has much to do with retribution.
As far as hating men goes, that is just rubbish! Sure, there are stern mistresses that come across as permanently agitated, and downright nasty. But they are the exception.
As for myself, I quite like men, and would venture to say that I have a better attitude toward them than most vanilla women of my age.
I think the feminist movement has generated a great deal of hostility toward men, and has even worked to lower our expectations of their character.
I am fortunate enough to be constantly exposed to another side of men. I see their potential: they are magnificent creatures — strong, courageous, hardworking — and I think it is wonderful that they give themselves to me, to be vulnerable before me, and to serve me.
I am surrounded by men who shower me with praise, worship me as a goddess, give their bodies to me as a canvas, and seek only to please me. How can I hate men when they’re so good to me?
Many people seem to think there is a lot of money to be made as a professional domme. A lot of dommes laugh at this idea and often get annoyed when the suggestion is made that they are in it for the money. But the truth is, we do a lot to perpetuate this misconception.
There seems to be a general consensus that submitting to a wealthy woman with extravagant costumes and incredible equipment is a little more exciting than submitting to a woman barely able to cover the rent on her tiny apartment.
So we promote ourselves as such, and do whatever we can to further that image — borrow clothes for photo shoots, create wish lists so those who actually have money can help us get the equipment we can’t afford, etc.
While there are certainly a few success stories, most dommes earn surprisingly little money. Many have second or third jobs and still wonder how they’ll make ends meet.
‘With a few exceptions, dommes earn surprisingly little. Many have second or third jobs and still wonder how they’ll make ends meet’
I consider myself very fortunate to be able to sustain myself entirely from work I do in the scene, mainly as a domme, with a bit of supplemental income and wardrobe-boosting from modelling.
But don’t expect an invitation to a lavish dinner party at my beachfront mansion any time soon. After working full-time for over two years, I still earn much less than in the job I left to pursue my pervy interests.
In just a few weeks, I will be graduating with honours in business and economics. People have been asking me what I will do after this, and I reply: “This.” They look surprised.
I realise I cannot work as a domme forever, but I have no plans to leave the scene any time soon. Many people are surprised that I am not doing this merely to get by until I can move on to what I really want to do with my life.
But why stop? I am having a fantastic time. For the most part, I am doing exactly what I want to be doing and having a great deal of fun.
I get to wear fabulous outfits, get pampered by countless admirers, and travel the world attending pervy parties. In the past year, I have been to parties in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Las Vegas, Florida, London, Jamaica and Berlin.
In fact, I’ve been having so much fun, I plan to extend my global party-hopping. It is wonderful to meet so many different people who share a common pervy thread, and to see very different play styles indicative of regional perv sensibilities.
But the best part is being able to go anywhere and run into pervs I know. There is something very surreal, almost magical about that.
Sure, being a prodomme has its drawbacks, like any other line of work. There are clients who are annoying, boring, or who simply will not leave me alone.
There are days when lying in bed seems much more comfortable than kicking ass while wearing impossibly high heels and a corset only a masochist could truly appreciate.
And sometimes it interferes with my enjoyment of personal play — working in a dungeon all day doesn’t always make me want to rush home and break out the toys.
Though as the frequency with which I get the urge to play has decreased, the amount of things I enjoy doing has greatly expanded due to my exposure to the vast world of options. Overall, I have to say life isn’t too rough.
This leads me to my last complaint (for now): that women who are not BDSM professionals like to make it a point to distinguish themselves from the lowly females who tailor fantasies in exchange for money.
Because, apparently, real dommes never compromise their desires in consideration of their partners — they’re never influenced by the needs of their submissives.
I suppose the only way they’d give me the respect of a real domme for a few hours at a Saturday night play party is if I had spent 50 hours that week shuffling papers, taking abuse on the phone, and fetching coffee for a man who makes six times my wages.
Because real dommes don’t beat men for pay. Please.
‘Apparently, real dommes never compromise their desires for their partners — they’re never influenced by the needs of their subs’
Mistress Myths: © Veronica Hoffman (7 Nov 1979 — 2 Aug 2009). First published in Skin Two Issue 52, Summer 2005