Yes, Mistress

By: NJ Cole

Chapter One





I make my living from sex. No, I’m not a prostitute; I’m a professional Dominatrix. Like most people, you probably immediately think leather corsets, thigh high boots, and whips. I won’t lie, that’s part of it, but being a Dominatrix is about so much more. It’s about someone giving up control to you, trusting you to fill his or her needs.



My clients pay to spend time with me so that they can let go. What I do to help them release their everyday stress depends on the individual. Some of them want me to tie them up and flog and paddle them until they are covered with bruises, others just want a stern yet loving mother figure. Men would come in from a business meeting, strip down to their underwear, call me Mommy, and nurse at my breast. My role as Dominatrix is to make each client feel safe and protected while in my care.



Though I am pretty flexible as a Domme, I do have a few hard limits. Gender is not an issue for me. I can dominate both males and females, but I will not change diapers, intentionally draw blood, nor engage in golden showers or the use of feces in sexual acts. I do know several Dominants or Dominatrixes who would be willing to engage in those activities, and I’d be more than happy to give out their numbers if a client requested it.



Unlike many people involved in the lifestyle, I don’t have a traumatic story to tell about my childhood and how I turned to BDSM to regain the power and control in my life. I’m a Domme because I’m good at it. I started having sex when I was fifteen. I wasn’t in love with the guy. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. People tend to confuse sex and love. One really has nothing to do with the other. Sex is a biological function that releases chemicals in the brain making you feel good. People in love often don’t have great sex, and everyone knows that you don’t have to be in love to have amazing sex.



My first time was awful. The boy, and yes, he was a boy of seventeen, had no idea what he was doing. I wanted so much to tell him to move his fingers faster, add a second finger, or suck in my nipples harder as they weren’t going to break off, but I didn’t. I thought that the man had sex with the woman and the woman was supposed to lay there and receive it. By my third sexual partner, I’d had enough and I was calling the shots.



After that, I seemed to find men who liked it when I took control in the bedroom. I’d hold their heads to my pussy until I came on their faces, I rode their cocks until my pussy couldn’t take any more, and then, if I felt like it, I’d tell them how to fuck me so they could come.



After a few months of dating this one guy in college, he mentioned to me that I should become a Dominatrix. At first I laughed it off, but one night, when he suggested we check out a BDSM club, I decided to go and see what it was all about.



It was a whole new world. There were other men and women like me at the club which was exciting. What was even more exciting, was that there were dozens of people who were looking for someone to control them, someone just like me.



I began going on weekends, and soon I was there every Friday and Saturday night. After about a month and a half, I participated in a demonstration. There was a Dom who was modeling how to use a flogger on a submissive. He had her nude, chained spread eagle to a wall, ass facing the crowd. When he asked if anyone wanted to volunteer to learn how to flog a little slut, I stepped forward and he began to teach me how to use the cruel looking device. Fifteen minutes later, the woman’s ass was covered with tiny pink lines and the wall was covered with her come from where she’d squirted all over it.



It was the first time I’d used a flogger, and she was the first woman I’d caused to have an orgasm. I loved both. To make it even better, Ty, the manager of the club, asked if I wanted to work there as a Dominatrix. Technically that wasn’t my job title. I was a server, but I worked on tips, and boy did I make great money for a kid in college.



A few years later, I graduated with a business degree and over fifty grand in the bank. Most of the people I knew were in major debt with tons of student loans, but not me. I’d paid for the entire thing while only working two nights a week and an occasional after work session here or there.



At first I thought I’d leave the club and get a job in my field, but when I realized that I’d be expected to work sixty or more hours a week for a salary that was half of what I was making as a Dominatrix, I decided to keep on doing what I loved.



The work was fun, and though I had my regulars, it never got boring. I was able to become a master at the whip and learn the art of rope tying. I’m not sure how long I would’ve stayed working at the club in Philadelphia if I hadn’t gone to the BDSM convention in Vegas.

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