The scene takes place abroad, at an internship in which I participated, unrelated to BDSM. It's a summer evening, a party night to celebrate the adventure that binds us halfway through, between sea and hills.
On the edge of the dance floor, she and I are chatting sitting in deckchairs. She is austrian, SPORTS, jolie, quarantine… a modern woman.
Suddenly, she asks me :
- And you, what do you do for a living ?
- I am a Dominatrix.
– Do… Do quoi ?
- Dominatrix. Keywords : Mistress, whip, donjon, submission.
– Ah ? Serious ? I did not even know that it existed ! And what are your uh, clients, most often ask you ? I'm curious !
- To fuck them.
It, the look of having swallowed a bitter lemon :
- To fuck them ? Attends, attends, I do not understand : you are a woman, you don't have a uh uh ... dick.
Me, puzzled :
– Non, but I have strap-ons.
- What ? Strap-on dildos ? Ooh. More, but ... if your clients ask you to fuck them, they are all gay ? You only get gay people, that's it !?
On the track the music was good. I got up without answering. What is the point of trying to explain the male anatomy associated with cerebral pleasure? ? We started from far away, too far.
The deconstruction of gender clichés, it was not won.
(Sigh.)
Written by Madame Lule, Dominatrix in Paris.
All rights reserved.
