Dominatrix Media Review

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I’m on TV tonight in a documentary about female sex bloggers that encompasses everyone (according to its own promo) ‘from Belle du Jour to Bitchy Jones’. I clearly win the perverted sex blogging competition – I am in the same sentence as Belle du Jour and she has her own TV show with Billie Piper in it.

I don’t know if they made some kind of mistake or something. I do wonder how come they allowed me in this documentary without a pair of high heeled and whispery stocking-clad legs. ‘Cause apparently that is the female sex blogger uniform as worn by every fucker except me. Even if you are being interviewed all anon in a dimpsy faux-sitting room you have to have your legs all the sexay poking out into the light. But I don’t have legs like that. I don’t have bony calves with those pointy jutting shin bones (well, I do have shin bones – in there somewhere).

But, yeah, the anon blogging women are all something to look at but me. Even though they have secret faces. Not me. I do not like to be a looked at thing. (Jack is a looked at thing. He can get an erection from me looking at his cock.)

There are little bits of film inserted in the documentary that take this even further -that writing a sex blog is a bit of exhibitionism – showing a women naked except for a pair of hold up stockings typing on a laptop in a way that makes her rubbery looking tits jiggle. I think this is meant to be Belle du Jour (who doesn’t really appear in the doc – Billie Piper was busy). I watched a documentary about Japanese Love Dolls the other day and that was less dehumanising to women than the titty typing bits of this doc. The bits with me in are good though.

And a revolution!

‘Cause in amongst the crappy lazy is a portrayal of me – a filmed reconstruction. And it is a miracle

Because no one like me has ever been on TV before ever in the history of history and television history.

Look, here’s a dominant woman who isn’t me

Angelina pulls it off. She is a far better mainstream dominatrix than me. She follows all the rules about dominatrixing anywhere where people might see you. There are three rules – but they are never ever broken. The women who follow them are what you think women like me are. They are what I’m not.

This is why – long leggy tantalisation aside – I am lucky that in a doc where Belle du Jour is portrayed by a pair of rubber titties I am allowed to wear pyjamas for the reconstructed bits of me.

When I told Jack I was portrayed in this documentary by a fat woman in pyjamas he said, ‘Their sense of realism is uncanny’

He was being a cruel and heartless brute, of course, but in many ways he is right and the fact is, realism and dominant women – not normally mutual objectives.

Rule One: Dress the part.
This you have to know, if being a dominatrix, a dominant woman, a domme in the meedja is about anything – it is about the clothes. Dominatrix is, above all, a style of dressing. Thigh boots, high heels, catsuits, PVC, ultra tight gelled ‘face-lift’ pony tail. If you look like a sort of vertical slug you’re doing it right.

My sexuality is apparently something you can put on and take off. How on earth I ever manage to have sweaty naked sex, if my sexuality is defined first and always by my clothing, is beyond me.

That is why gothed-up or black ‘n’ shinied-up celebrities and characters like Siouxsie Sioux, catwoman and Emma Peel get called dominatrixes. It doesn’t matter what they say or do or think. It doesn’t matter what turns them on. The clothes are enough. All.

It’s the same the whole world over. Female sexuality gets transformed from what actually turns women on. What gets us hot or not – into what we wear and what we look like.

In fact you can see this rule about women in general at work in the documentary. Sexually liberated women dress sexy. Of course they do. If you are a woman your sexuality is somewhat what you *wear*.

When it comes to being sexually dominant the male outside-looking-in ideas of how female sexuality works are taken to bizarre extremes. And the clothes become the whole of it. Sexual dominance for women is something that is only ever on the outside

Rule Two: It is not about sex – ’cause that would be ew!
Sexually dominant men in the media range from romance-serial alphas to serial rapists, but there is one characteristic they all broadly share – they are all about sex. They want. It gets their dicks hard. Sexually dominant women are never motivated by desire.

It’s always for a reason. Like Angelina as Mrs Smith – she isn’t being a dominasty ‘cause it gets her off. It’s just a thing she has to do for some tenuous reason. You get this all the time in thriller type plots – female character has to pretend to be a dominatrix for some reason to do with solving a crime or some such. This is brilliant. Gets the sexy woman into the wank-inspiring outfit without any notion that she might be turned on my doing anything anti-social.

But, before we go too far down this road, let’s just check out rule three – because there is one ever-popular way of making every dominant women you ever see let out of the box be able to flick her flogger around without anyone having to entertain scary thoughts of what is happening in her knickers.

Rule Three: She is doing it for money
Oh come on, why would any woman do the dominatrixing for the free? Doesn’t she realise men will pay her to do all that fancy stuff? And dungeons cost money. And as we are certain this kind of thing doesn’t turn women on or anything there is no other reason for them to do it is there?

Even those women in rule two – the ones who are impersonating dominatrixes are nearly always impersonating professional dominatrixes. Pros – the ubiquitous face of women like me. So think about every time you’ve ever seen a dominant woman in popular culture – is she in it for the ching-ching?

All those fucking lazy salacious tell all memoir type books about how I was forced to become a professional dominatrix so I had something to write a lazy salacious tell all memoir type book about.

Look at this list of dominatrixes in popular culture from Wikipedia. The fictional ones and the reals – THEY ARE ALL PROS! From Personal Services to Feitshes to Lady Heather to the woman who does for Rex Van De Kamp in Desperate Housewives to everything Lucy Liu has ever done. And, you know, I was going to do a proper media review here and look at them one by one but what is the point.

They are all doing it for money. What else is there to say other than how fucking depressed this makes me all the fucking time.

Look at this depressing shit!
“Simmons based the character on a semi-real dominatrix he knows socially.” Gawd, I wish I was a stadium rock god like Gene Simmons. He knows ’semi-real’ people.

Or at this depressing shit!
“A small town girl runs into big time trouble as she takes on her roommates identity as a dominatrix to pay the bills” Yeah, sure, could be a great film – but it is still about female domination being something men want and women supply – never ever something women want to do – while nastily dragged up. Fucking high heels – cause nothing makes a woman more powerful than the threat of a twisted ankle every time she moves.

Professional dominants are not me. Impossibly not me. I have zero interest in being paid for sex. I like sex. I show up for sex without an incentive and that’s just that. And I can’t imagine that having sex with someone I don’t want to have sex with *anyway* is at all empowering.

So when it comes to me and my sexual identity – prodoms are summink else! Look, they do what their clients want. Obviously. They have mortgages to pay. And yet somehow these women who don’t even get off on what I get off on are the only representations of me you will ever see. That is why my sexuality is full of imagery and freakishness that no women really like – that is why my sexuality is so male defined, right down to the costumes – and yet because this is female dominance, it is presented as what *dominant* women want. What *I* want.

I don’t have long fingernails, I don’t ‘force’ my boyfriend to wear women’s underwear. I don’t like to laugh at his small penis. Etc, etc. I do what I want. And I’m not a unicorn. So why am I only ever represented as a fringe prostitute?

‘Cause whatever you think about sex work and doing it for money it is not fair that these women are the only way I ever get represented. It’s like if the only way you ever saw women having sex in the mainstream media they were whores. Not okay. It would not be okay to say that women only have sex to get stuff rather than for the pleasure. That is like denying women get pleasure from sex. Um, hi, can someone take me back to future please?

And that is why it is not okay to say I am the only woman in the world who likes this stuff for the real. Which is what is happening all the while that the only way women like me are represented is as fancy dressed, catsuited ‘n’ thigh booted exoticas paid for by the hour. There’s more to me than that.

And now my hour has come. Finally, a woman like me has got an unprecedented 3 seconds on the telly. You’ll see. They’ll all see. I can do jokes and everything!

Well not *everything*. I’m not good with knots. Oh shut *up* – and anyway, that’s another story.

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