Why I Want To Become A BDSM Mistress

Image: @dannikonov — Unsplash

Pleasure and liberation come in many forms. To be intuitive, accepting, nurturing, flexible and confident to allow subs to express parts of themselves they cannot express elsewhere.

I believe it is so important to embrace, explore, express and understand all of our kinks. Allow them to be unearthed in a safe, welcoming and professional environment, to avoid having them manifest negatively in our personal lives or society.

I began my sexual journey as a bottom, a sub, and this was a very diverse but beautiful part of my past. As I grew more into my sexual awareness, more into my power and authenticity, I realised I wanted to switch. I wanted to provide the same liberation, the same out of mind back to body, surrender, and forfeiture of control that I had experienced.

I wanted to erase the eggshells, the initial fear of opening up and expressing desires. I wanted to create a space, where bottoms would feel safe, seen and serviced.

My BDSM journey began with Shibari. It was enough 'art' that I felt comfortable disclosing it to my friends and family. It was sensory, it was surrender, it was emotionally liberating. I began by binding myself when I was in an anxious state. To sit there, bound in rope, unable to move. To feel the blood pumping through my veins and vibrate against the ropes on my skin. Nowhere to go, nothing I could do. The world slowed down, my mind slowed down, the giant expansive universe in which my thoughts ran wild, suddenly shrunk, as I came back to earth, wholly into my body. As things became clear, as I became weak, as emotional tension melted away. It was like I had experienced a climax, and was rolling in the after bliss.

Image: Author

I knew I was ready for a bunny, a slave, for a bottom, for a willing submissive. I began to speak about it to lovers. Initially I was worried they would think I was crazy, however, I was surprised at how many had a hidden kink, hidden desires, so different and yet so similar. Many expressed to me that they had never felt comfortable discussing and requesting these things to a partner so they stayed silent and carried it around.

What the fuck?!?!

My mind was blown!! I had spent most of my prime years afraid to express what I wanted in fear of being judged, only to find everyone else was in the same boat!

I had many willing bodies, however, I did not rush. I felt that some were not open enough, some did not have the clarity of communication, with some that mutual level of respect wasn't there and others were simply like a kid in a candy store and driven by immaturity rather than a fully present body & mind.

So I went back to being a submissive, and this time around I was ironically blessed with many partners who were already into the BDSM scene. Partners with toys, partners with established roles, with costumes, with chains, partners with full-blown dungeons, swings, inversion chairs! It was like a smorgasbord for the senses. I tried things I was comfortable with. I tried things I was uncomfortable with. And I took from each of them, I learned the communication needed. The levels of trust needed. The unexpected emotional responses that could be triggered and the ultimate importance of aftercare and nurturing.

And then I found my first submissive. We only spoke about it for the first few months. Over cups of tea, at the dinner table, on the beach, at the supermarket. It became such a normal topic of conversation, this exchange of fantasies and possibilities. It needed to be normal. It's not like you can just whip out a gag and strap on one day and shout “surprise”! That is not respectful, to your partner, and could go horribly wrong, creating even more trauma. Even though spontaneity is such a crucial part in erotic escapades, intuition, trust, and communication win. All cards needed to be on the table to make it a positive experience.

Finally, when the time felt right I sent him a text message, asking him for his consent to tie him up that evening. He consented. I had been working on a fantastic playlist all day and planning what would be done at which point in the music. The previous day I went shopping at the pet store. I do not own a pet. However I found some wonderful items that felt incredible on my skin, so I packed them along with my ropes, candles, office clips, scarves, and silicon spatula spankers into a small bag.

Image: Author

I was shitting myself as I drove out to his house, I really wanted a beer to calm my nerves, but denied myself, as it was really important I went in with a clear head, fully present.

When I arrived, we casually greeted, he made me a cup of tea which I sipped and chain-smoked at the coffee table.

Suddenly I stood up and pressed play on my playlist.

"Stand up," I said. And he did. "Undress," I said. And he did. "Come here," I said. And when he did, I took a length of rope which I had wrapped around my breasts, and bound his wrists together, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

I stood back and stared at him, naked in the center of the room, a little unsure, and a little excited.

I then took another length of rope, weaved it through his wrist bind and suspended them to an anchor point above his head.

The rope continued to flow as I circled his body, binding his chest into a harness, dragging the rope across his skin with every loop.
I took a silk scarf, ran it along the insides of his ankles, the insides of his thighs, his chest, his neck, then blindfolded him.

And then, well, I left him there. Only for a minute or so, naked, blind, bound, suspended, vulnerable and surrounded by the deep bass of the music. I left him there to come back to earth, back into his body. I left him there to surrender.

And then the sensory journey began, hot touch, cold touch, tickling, spanking, clamping, hot wax. I won't go into too much detail.

He was so responsive. He was so present. It heightened my drive and my own pleasure watching this man give himself to me, and to the unknown, fully, and to be enjoying every single moment

I released his wrists from the ceiling and commanded him to sit on the ground. I sat behind him, my legs around his waist and dug my fingers into the ropes of his chest harness. Pulling them, making them tighter, tighter as he moaned, then releasing, as he fell back against me. Then tighter, then release. I began to rock him against my chest as I tightened and released the ropes, and then he began to sob, beautifully, gently, oh so gently.

He had released.

I rested his back against my chest, his head against my shoulder, as I slowly began untying the chest harness. I then held him, I rocked him, I kissed him and stroked him. He lay on his side and I spooned him from behind, kissing his hair, stroking his shoulder, until finally, he decided to stand up.

We sat at the coffee table. I made tea. We talked about it. Shared our experiences. What was mindblowing. What was surprising. What we would like to try next time.

It was so business and yet so beautiful. There was no penetration, no fellatio, nothing. And yet an air of superior intimacy enveloped us and our bodies tingled in the after waves.

The following few days he reported he had much more clarity, much less stress and reactivity, and much more emotion surfacing from places he could not pinpoint.

It was a success.

I don’t believe you need to hate men to become a domme. In fact, I believe you have to love them, you have to accept them and ultimately you have to respect them. Some people experience pleasure and release through pain, some people stay on top of their insecurities through forced degradation. Some people tackle their own high-level control issues, by letting somebody else be in control. This is not unhealthy, this is expression. And it is beautiful when a safe, special space is created to allow this.

Intimacy is such a powerful tool. Sexuality is such a powerful tool. Passion, imagination, trust, and surrender are such powerful tools.

Combine them all, with an aim to understand, to empower, to please and to nurture, and you have the reasons - why I want to be a BDSM mistress.

Image: @pmiazga — Unsplash