So here it is. My first blog post. When thinking about what to write I decided that I wanted to consider the part of my life which finds me as a domme and my relationship to the profession which I have been playing at in one way or another for many years.
The word ‘playing’ is the perfect one to use here because that is how I see it. When I am in-role it is something that is at its core very creative. If the world is a stage where we all play a part, then what I do in this work is somehow a stage within a stage. It is here that I get to relax and have fun by morphing into different aspects of myself. We do this in one way or another all of the time, but when I take off my jeans and T shirt and pull on a dress with a household apron, or a blouse and skirt, I become one of my alternate selves. For me, the change of clothes is part of the ritual. I am becoming Auntie, or perhaps a stern neighbour.
Some people dislike the work that they do, and only do it to earn a living. I have had some jobs like that in the past. Others are fortunate enough to enjoy what they do so that work becomes a pleasure. Happily this is the case with me. While I am a professional at this, I don’t think I would have been able to create these fun spaces for all these years without getting some creative satisfaction from doing it.
I just love to set the scene. Perhaps to have read emails and texts beforehand so that I have a good idea as to a person’s desires. I enjoy selecting the implements or clothing. Possibly a few paddles and a pair of plastic pants? Or will it be an old fashioned pinafore and a selection of my favourite canes?
Then I wait for the person to arrive, in a space where I am not quite who I was five minutes ago, but not who I will fully become in five minutes’ time, when introductions are over and we both become different parts of ourselves. Two actors in a one scene drama where we are also the audience.
On this stage a retired postman submits to a sound thrashing at the hands of a pissed off landlady, or a fire fighter becomes a sorry boy at the mercy of a very firm teacher. They are no longer who they were when they came through my front door…but then, neither am I!
There is plenty of give and take within this fantasy bubble that we create together, and the more the person loses themselves in their role, the more I am able to give. It is a scene that I share with whoever has come to see me, and while there is obviously a lot of repetition, no two scenarios are identical.
Something else I love about my job is the clandestine nature of it. Of course my close friends know. I don’t think it would be possible for me to hide this from people at the centre of my life and I wouldn’t want to. While I have chosen not to tell everyone,I also have some family members who know about my life as Mistress Stephanie.
I still get a buzz from the thought that I can be a middle aged woman, shopping on my local high street, going for walks in forests, meeting people at a bus stop…and nobody would suspect anything from looking at me about my hidden world.
I like the existence of this secret, naughty life in the midst of what can sometimes be quite a hum drum and dutiful existence. I may be filling a shopping basket with Sosmix and satsumas, but just half an hour ago I had a naked man across my lap giving him a hard spanking while he apologised and promised never to be naughty again.
I do sometimes wonder how much longer I shall be in this profession. Years ago as a slender young dominatrix, clad in tight rubber undies and wearing thigh boots, I used to think that it had a shelf life. Now I am not so sure. It seems that whatever stage of life you enter, there are fetishes and interests waiting for you to step into them. I once knew a woman in her early seventies who started thrashing bottoms in her fifties and was still going strong. I still have a while to go before I get to her age. Will it be failing hearing or vision that stops me? Or perhaps arthritic hands or the inability to bear the weight of a grown man across my lap? Will I be failing to hear safety words called out as I support myself on a walking frame while wielding the cane?
I hope that I will be doing this work until at least retirement age. Gripping the handles of the same trusty canes that I was using decades previously. Stepping into the role of a retired governess or granny from time to time. Still playing the game that has always been a part of who I am…and loving it!