Last night, I urinated on a man. He didn’t drink it, though usually people do. Per his request, my feet were sweaty and smelly. His preference was natural body odor. He says one Domme once used parmesan cheese on her feet to make them smell for him. Apparently, he can tell the difference.
I dragged out the removal of my sneakers with a strip tease of the feet. He kissed my shoes and slowly untied them before I used the shoe as an oxygen mask over his face. I instructed him to inhale. I could hear his muffled words through the sneaker. "They smell so good," he moaned.
Lola: 1. Parmesan cheese: 0.
Some background on me: I'm a sex educator, instructor, coach, and writer. I work with clients as a professional Domme (to dominate them) and wrestler.
After the best damn foot burlesque act money can buy, I focused my attention on the other request of the session. With my stocking-clad feet still resting on his face and the rest of my body positioned away from him, I said, "Your penis is so pathetic and small it doesn’t deserve to be called a dick. We should make a nickname for it."
His voice dripped with the desperation that fuels my sadism. "What should we call it?"
"The disappearing act," I decided. "Houdini."
I didn’t plan out a dialogue in my head prior to the session. Mostly, verbal humiliation comes naturally to me. Chalk it up to my habitual fantasy football trash-talk and competitive spirit.
I practice Domination (control over people) both professionally and in my private life. What started as a curiosity in my personal life blossomed when I realized I have a knack for it. I have a gift for turning seemingly Dom men into subs (submissive people under my control) like putty in my hands. I worked for a dungeon for a period of time before going independent. Now, I teach a sex education class and coach aspiring Dommes and subs alike. I also hold wrestling fetish sessions, which aren't sexual — they're for sport and I'm handsomely compensated. I only take on sessions that are appealing to me. I wouldn't do them if my clients didn't pay me, but I also wouldn't offer a client a paid session if I know I wouldn't enjoy it.
Though I want to tailor my session to each client, my intention is never male pleasure. It may be a byproduct of the work, though not the purpose. Perhaps we both enjoy when I strangle his head between my thighs in a scissorhold, but I inform my clients of my boundaries and hard limits before we begin. I relish in saying "no." I don't touch my clients' genitals and they don't touch mine. I do not wish to feign infatuation, which is why humiliation and wrestling come easier to me.
When I Domme in my personal life, my encounters may look similar to my professional ones, but the goal is different. I am invested in their pleasure, though not necessarily what most people associate with "pleasure." Orgasm and ejaculation aren’t always synonymous with pleasure in my book. While pleasure can manifest physically, it also manifests mentally. A release can be the act of finally receiving whatever it is that a person desires.
For me, everything revolves around control. I get off on power-tripping, exhibitionism, and denying individuals. While there’s no doubting the monetary benefits, I find greatest value in using Domination to cope with my insecurities and past. To understand my kinks, you must understand my history. Kink is how we play as adults. This magical space can help us deal with ill-confidence, shame, anxieties, and past trauma.
No, I don’t have daddy issues. My home was far from broken. I was not physically abused or sexually assaulted. Two ongoing themes shape me: an astonishingly long period of bullying by women and feeling used by men for my sexuality. The majority of my childhood and young adulthood was spent alone. Despite my best efforts, I struggled to maintain friendships or find romantic relationships.
My worst bullies started as friends. What begins as run-of-the-mill name-calling graduated to a calculated and more damaging variety; they would blow up at me, then apologize later, or use the weaknesses and insecurities I had confessed to them against me. They would make me question my every motive, insinuating that I was an awful person. They took advantage of my willingness to pay their way when we went out. Ultimately, I lost my autonomy. It was a hurtful process, but it transformed me into the warrior I am today. A few chips remain on my shoulders, outside my layer of armor.
In the romantic department — and calling it "romance" is being generous — I’m accustomed to abandonment. I felt tossed aside, appreciated solely for my body, and undervalued. Now, not only do I control the conversation around my sexuality, I profit from it. I choose how to share my body for my own pleasure. People can look, but not touch. If they want to spend time with me, they can buy a ticket and get in line.
On the rare occasion I sub (I see you, trust issues), I refuse to follow orders, though it’s not because I seek punishment. I act out as I please, both for attention and as an element of control, even if in retaliation. When I Domme, I test men to see what I can coerce them to do — to see how effective my power over my clients truly is. How far can I push them? I find pleasure in denial, torturing their scrotum, or locking their c*ck up in chastity. That gives me satisfaction — not from holding the literal key to their manhood, but more from seeing how desperately they plead to give me their power. When my friends ganged up against me and when men used me for sex, I felt as if I couldn't control those situations. But when I put individuals in a position beneath me, I assure that no one will have control over me any longer.
Previously, I was treated as a sex object. Now, I find joy in embracing my sexuality. As long as there's consent, playing with power is fun.
A lot of people come to my classes or events because they’re attracted to me. Instead of enduring unwanted stares, messages, and attention, I find solace in taking their money in order for them to enjoy this. I find that men of all shapes, sizes, and colors have this unflappable confidence that they are deserving of everyone’s time. I make them pay for it. When they come to my classes, my events, and my sessions, I decide when they speak, call them out on creepy behavior, and determine how much of me they get to access. Usually, it’s not much. If they do meet my requirements and abide by my boundaries for sessions, I quite literally take their money — $300 an hour, to be precise. It makes every rear naked choke that much more fun.
When I Domme, I get my client's consent, then call the shots and use my client as my play thing. (Consent is vital here.) I am the puppet-master; I am the conductor. It is not how I can serve them, but how they can serve me. No longer am I overlooked or tossed aside.
While teaching a FemDom 101 class, a student once asked me how I practice self-care.
"I find a consenting male to humiliate — verbally or physically," I told her. "Kicking someone in the balls can be very cathartic."