A Bossy Girl Or a Dominatrix?

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Remember when you were a kid and you’d see a loud-mouthed 12 year old girl getting about with a couple of 10 year old boys in tow hanging on to her every word, she’d be ordering them about, getting them to buy her gob-stoppers and generally acting like she owned the place?  Well I wasn’t that girl, but occasionally we sex workers entertain one of those 10 year old boys who were full of admiration for their older girl friend, now fully grown and asking if you can be a bossy girl.

And this is how it happened for me the other week: a youngish dude who I’d seen once before came in and when he got into the room, he told me he wanted me to be a bossy girl and to totally dominate him.   He wanted to please me.

In situations like this, because I am not a trained dominatrix and I’m concerned about the ethics of presenting myself as something I am not, I often have an inner dialogue, that goes a bit like this.

‘But I’ve been told I’m too softly spoken to be a dominating kind of girl’.
‘But I do have a strong voice, they said I could have been an opera diva way back then.’
‘And then there was that dude who told me I was a paradox and called me a perfumed sledgehammer‘.
‘Yeah, but domination takes years of training, what if I’m not a strong enough girl for him’.
‘Since when have I not been a strong girl???’
‘He’s not asking for a dominatrix anyway, he’s asking for a bossy girl, and he’s seen me before, he knows what he’s in for.’
‘He thinks I’d be a good bossy girl, huh?  And he wants to spend a whole hour pleasing me?  Now you’re talking.’

And so we began.  Imagine my excitement.

For an hour I was in control of his mouth, tongue, hands, fingers, cock, knees and all and any other part of his body I felt like I could use.  He was a nice, strong dude obediently carrying out my instructions, without tiring, and I didn’t even have to care about his pleasure or comfort.

“Start with my feet…”  “Is your neck sore yet?  Is your tongue tired then? Good.”  “Make me come exactly as I tell you.”  Over and over again.  “Your face got wet, oh that’s too bad.  Now fuck me gently.  Now harder.  Stop.  Pull out.  Now use your tongue again.”

There is truly never a dull moment in sex work and a lot of pleasure to be had, mine for the taking. And of course my clients’.  But I’m well-pleased about the number of clients who wish for me to be gratified as much as they are.  Why resist, and why fake enjoyment, when you can have.  I like to live a little.

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