Ma Cherie

The fundamental tenet of BDSM play is “Safe, Sane, Consensual.” This isn’t Ma Cherie’s Kink U* so I’ll sum up: Don’t kill each other. Don’t be too drunk or under the influence of other, ahem, substances to make rational decisions. Respect each other’s limits.

Would you rather be the elegant, stylish idol Jackie O, or sexpot goddess Marilyn Monroe? (For the younger generation, Team Jennifer or Angelina?) Virgin/slut, wife/mistress, girlfriend/hook-up, whatever paradigm you use to explain the roles available to women in society.

When people ask me about my Labor Day weekend, my polite answer has been the aforementioned title (since I love film references). The reply closer to reality would be: beer, sex, and cigarettes. Since I’d rather not write an entire novel on this lost weekend, I’ll give you the blow-by-blow by the hours.

It took about two weeks for me to accept my identity as a sex worker. When I first interviewed and even when I arrived on my first day, I considered it like any serious job. In my mind, I emphasized the professional in professional dominatrix.

Your friendly neighborhood domme has not hung up her paddle. I am still dominating businessmen with excessive disposable income. No, my story this week is set in the BDSM scene, a comedy of errors in which I walked haphazardly and blindly into a minefield of social mores.

What? Did you expect me to talk about virginity? Or how about my wedding day? I could talk about both. I lost my virginity on the first date with my first love. My wedding day never came because my fiancé of seven years left me last year. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, on to the good stuff…