Back when I was driving escorts around all night in my beat up old Mazda minivan, a few of the girls did the Domme thing for extra cash. This was fairly early in the whole middle-class mainstreaming of fetish so there wasn’t a mad rush yet.
That kind of stuff was traditionally Queers Only but once fetish got it’s big 50 Shades of Consumerism kick start, every hetero hag with a shopping habit wanted to get paid large to dress up like Betty Page and be a mouthy bitch. And it can work - as long as she sticks to your average newbie customer; some frustrated office geek who fucks only females and pretends he has deep-seated emotional issues that require a hot slut in hot slut leather and latex to whip his white butt – but not so hard as to injure.
It’s amazing how once consumers have their petty egos stroked, you can get money out of them in a big way for the corniest crap. Just give them the illusion they aren’t part of the indiscriminate mob and you’ve got their credit card by the ass.
The women I drove were usually high school drop-outs who didn’t know shit about shit. They sucked cock mainly and a few took it up the ass if you paid them enough. They thought the whole fetish thing was stupidly elaborate, just another ego dick stroke – and you need a lot of expensive gear and someplace to ply it. Like any whore, they knew that all the high falutin horseshit goes away once the guy blows his load. Then he just wants you to fuck off.
But a lot of these hetero gomer johns got wind of what the queers had known forever and began to pay large for the whole Domme production, thinking they’d get a major extra thrill. Thing is, to stand out from the ever growing herd of fashion Dommes, the genuine practitioner needs to have that old vaudeville aptitude for creating plenty of sizzle before letting the rubes have the steak. Wannabe perv dudes will accept almost any bullshit as long as the chick looks the part but more seasoned customers are demanding. I mean, they are paying a premium, after all.
There were a couple of women who wanted specific instructions. For instance, how to properly bind male genitals for a torture session and how far that torture can go without causing serious harm that’ll get the whore into trouble. You don’t want the guy to end up in a fucking hospital and between shrieks of agony, try to explain to the doctor how he suffered a bloodied and badly mutilated testicle that might have to be removed. That is definitely not hot.
Few of these escort chicks have the patience for those kinds of shenanigans. They’ll talk up the idea and know there’s lots of extra money in it but are basically lazy drug addicts that have long gotten sick of all the brutally mediocre sex. They’d rather just be left alone to get high.
But there was one girl who called herself Sumatra - imagine naming yourself after that wild island? I thought it was pretty clever, her being of indeterminate, dusky skinned Western Oceania origins. She had all the moxy and work ethic of a traditional immigrant. The girl wanted to get ahead. I told her to go out and buy a pair of stiletto heeled, pointy toed boots - mid-calf, not the thigh-high things. That, along with getting all the other gear; fishnets, latex corset, etc.
So I showed Sumatra how to tightly bind erection and scrotum and wrists without cutting off circulation. Then I gave her methodical instructions on how to use her weight and balance to tease out extreme pain by stepping on testicles without the serious pressure that would cause serious damage. It’s a nuanced technique and requires skill and practice. You don’t want to literally crush the guy’s nuts.
The Domme eventually slides her heel down between the testicles to where it’s just scrotum skin. Then she can grind fairly hard. Not to fully puncture, mind you, but to draw blood, definitely. That might sound easy but lots of women fuck the Domme thing right up when starting out by being cavalier and are then surprised they’ve maimed the client and he’ll need a fucking ICU. Some of these dumb cunts have even ended up charged with aggravated assault.
Like with any service industry, the vast majority of providers take no personal pride in what they’re doing. They just want your money and could be selling cars or condos or cocksucking. So, once again, it’s down to the consumer and choosing your Domme wisely. And you gotta hope that old expression holds true; that in the end, quality will out.
Basil Papademos is the author of the novel, Mount Royal: There’s Nothing Harder Than Love, winner of the 2013 BiLines Book Award. His upcoming novel is How To Fuck Your Psychiatrist of which there is a reading below...