Professional Dominatrix Memoir Book Club

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So, prodoms, huh? You might think I talk about them too much. But every time I flick through some kinky magazine in search of kneeling, sneering, shavenheaded butch there they are thrusting their latex clad rentable boobies at me.

Really I’d leave them alone if they left me alone – but that doesn’t really look very likely. My culture is built from them – you can’t blame me for taking an interest in the way they have been elected to represent me.

And they confuse me.

One minutes prodoms are telling me to stop making out that they are not really into it (that they are a ‘male manufactured joke’) because of how so they *so* are into it really and I am a big meany liar to suggest they ever do anything just for the money because ‘cha know, in prodom it isn’t the customer paying the vendor for what the customer wants it is the customer paying the vendor to do what the vendor wants to do. It’s like prodom, aktchoooli is a whole new branch of economics.

Domintrixonomics. Or something.

But just when I am about to send a paper to The Made Up London Journal of New Branches of Economics, pros change their tune and pop up in magazines with delights like this:

Mistress Absolute maintains a persistent belief in the fem dom ideal and, somewhat controversially, argues that Masters cannot achieve the same level of domination because they are controlled by their sexual urges. ‘I’m going to go on record and say that there’s no such thing as a male dom, because they think with their cocks. For most masters I’ve come across it’s all about sex. That’s where women differentiate from men, as women don’t have to have that. You can get your rocks off with more of a mind buzz than just getting your end away. I don’t offer any sexual services at all. For most male “masters” it’s all about getting your cock sucked.’

God. I’m confused. I thought prodoms were controlled by their sexual urges and it was mean to say they weren’t. (Also I thought prodoms *did* get their cocks sucked. In fact haven’t we seen this same prodom elsewhere sporting a vile rubber cock?)

But anyway, what is this mind buzz of which she speak? Huh? Mind buzz? Mind? Buzz? MIND? BUZZ?

MIND?

BUZZ?

Perhaps that is a new way of saying ‘tribute!’ But I like to think the ‘buzz’ is the feeling pros get when they lie back and imagine the fabulous and original cover (thigh boots - catsuit) that their inevitable prodom memoir book will have.

Remember when I wrote:

The shelves in the erotica section of my local Borders is thick with the memoirs of professional dominatrixes, but no memoirs of anyone like me. And no matter how much these women with the memoirs out love it they *are* getting paid. And that’s just different to doing something for love. It just is.

Remember when I wrote:

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.

Oh, prodom memoirs can there ever be too few? In order to answer this question I’ve been doing some reading. Well I have a boyfriend with a nice speaking voice so, really, I have mostly been doing listening.

Before he went away forever. And ever. And ever. (Or for a week in real terms.) Jack read to me out of an awful dominatrix memoir book I bought – thinking it might be useful ‘research’ for this ‘blog’. It’s awful. It makes me think I needn’t have written any of the stuff I have on this blog over the last year because this book just proves every last damn point merely by existing.

It’s called Princess Spider. It’s one of the ones I link to above. I bought it at random so perhaps we can consider it a typical example.

This ‘author’ is apparently she is the greatest professional dominatrix in London. Which surely makes her far meaner to prodoms than me when she cheerfully then writes like this:

You’re trampling the slave. It’s a bit like ball kicking. You walk all over them. I wouldn’t walk on anybody’s front while wearing sharp heels, maybe a low stilletto or a chunky heel. But I’ll walk all over your back in high heels. Or you can do it barefoot, or stockings, or tights, for a more sensual experience. They like to see your painted toenails over your balls and cock or face and chest. I probably wouldn’t do a full hour of trampling, but mix it up with other fetishes. Smothering perhaps. They are very particular about the shoes they want you in. Mules or stilettoes. And they’ll specify Cuban stockings. They know in a very detailed way how they want you. It makes for a very interesting wardrobe, anyway.

Jesus. No wonder asshats like all that CAPSLOK protcol. Something very horrid happens when they are left alone with real live pronouns. That mess of a paragraph was taken from a real professionally published book, btw.

My favourite part, though, was the deranged appendix entitled ‘Slave Power Breakdowns’. (What does this even mean?)

It is illustrated with a perplexing diagram, which I reproduce here:

Financial slave ——– Pain slave ——– Escort slave
Maid slave ———— Adult baby ——- Foot slave
Boot slave ————-Postal slave ——- Sissy slave
Text slave ———— Email slave ——– Phone slave
Slave in training ——- Scene slave ——- Newbie slave

My favourite is ‘Postal slave’. I think I know how he feels.

If you would like to recommend (or, un-reccommend) any professional dominatrix memoirs to The Beej and Jack (and maybe Pan if he’s around) Professional Dominatrix Memoir Book Club please email my email slave Jack at jack@jackhasanenormouscock.org

(Also “That’s where women differentiate from men“??? Is that even in English?)

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