From November to March, I texted and video-called with a dominatrix. We had one meeting: we went to Tate Britain together, then ate together, as friends. In March 2022 I said to her “I love you,” and she replied “I love you too”. She did not charge me. Still hoping to have her to stay, I imagined kneeling to kiss her feet, and realised that there is no boundary to what I might do, submitting to her. Submitting would dishonour the beauty and value of my body, so I will not.
I have posted several times about how she fits my submissive sexuality, and how I want to be controlled and dominated. I wrote in January of saying “I love you” to her, with a love poem, and of how it felt to be valued by her. I found my feelings unbearable and she helped me value them. I loved her drive and intellect.
Why would I, given the opportunity, have knelt and kissed her feet, or submitted to be beaten, or worse? How does she produce this effect in submissives- what does she give us, that would make us desire to submit to her? I am naturally submissive, and she made that part of me feel seen and valued. She explains she creates a world full of feeling and sensation, an erotic creation made out of her heart. “It’s chaos and anarchy- pure and total annihilation of what one has been trained to grasp on for safety and control.” It is all about feelings, which so often I suppress, thinking I should behave rationally. She offered care for my vulnerability, understanding, and acceptance where I have felt shame and repression. It is what I starve for. It is powerful.
And, she is wonderfully inviting. She looks as if she is enjoying herself. She makes it look fun.
It is sex, of a particular kind. She tantalised me erotically. She sent me a series of photographs, of her looking dominant yet inviting, caressing the tip of her crop. On a video call she brought the crop out, and watched my reactions. It is sex almost entirely without touching, with any touch in her control, so that I would be constantly tantalised. I might let her handcuff me, so that the feeling of my wrists in her handcuffs gave me a sense of connection to her. That the connection was so paltry, so minimal, would only make it more compelling.
I write this to understand her better. I don’t intend an erotic fantasy, though that may be self-deception: the alcoholic knows whisky is bad, so goes to a bar and buys a whisky just so he can contemplate it, thinking of how wise he is and how bad it would be to drink it. She plays on my buttons in such a way as to make me helpless, and I want to know my own vulnerability, so that I can protect myself.
I saw her first at a zoom where people share our feelings. She mentioned being a dominatrix, but in a teasing way, making it seem as innocent as burlesque. I was interested. I joined in the joking and friended her on facebook. By Messenger, she texted me a doodle, with the word “nipples” repeated. After a few texts I wrote, “Don’t clamp them too hard, please.” She sent, “I’ll do it softly and tenderly.” Later, when I said I wanted to be a friend and not a sub, she wrote, “I only treated you like a sub, because you have invited and initiated it,” and that was almost true. She reached out so subtly, and I responded wholeheartedly.
It behoves me to take responsibility for my actions, especially when I am less in control: I should take pains to avoid such situations. And, I have learned how I may be manipulated. I found her sexually attractive, and she responded to me. That pleased me: I had not thought it likely I would ever relate to someone sexually again. She complained of me objectifying her, after sending her photos.
She explained: “Sex to me isn’t physical penetration or orgasms. Sex is emotional, spiritual and intellectual nudity. Playing, exploring, teasing and gently taunting. Leaning in and leaning out. Gently pulling and gently pushing. It’s a curious dance of minds, hearts and souls through physical sensations.
“I require truth, clarity and honesty when things come up. Because they will inevitably come up in the explorations. I want to see the fears and I want to be there with you when you meet them, or provide care and support when things feel edgy or scary, I don’t want you to go at it alone or hide it away.
“I do enjoy sweet and sensual torture. Building it up, playing little games of how much can I make someone squirm with just my words, movement and attention. Teasing touch, watching and observing sensations ripple through the body.”
That is, by careful application or withdrawal of attention, approval and touch, she could get me doing anything she wanted. She would give varying rewards for my actions, so that sometimes I would feel amazed delight, sometimes nothing but puzzlement and desperation to please her.
She was consistently gentle, which is not the same as kind. It is like when I was sexually assaulted: the man held me strongly so that I feared, but spoke gently to me, overcoming resistance. In the same way, she assured me “Any play or interacting we do comes with holding, aftercare and wholehearted presence”. She would humiliate me, then gently pacify me so that I did not resist. If I was hurt, that would only make me more dependent.
She praised me extravagantly. She loved my voice reciting my poems. “You are such a treasure and your beauty is endless.” “Your presence is a blissful delight.” Particularly she praised my softness: “I love how her lower lip gently quivers as she is preparing to speak.” “Abigail taught me more about femininity and grace more than any woman has ever been able to.” It was a complete delight to receive this. People can be so reserved: uninhibited enthusiasm, especially for onesself, is intoxicating.
I loved her praise, and was particularly delighted when she called me “Good girl”, as one might a child or a dog.
She probed me, framing it as an offer. “Mmm, thank you for sharing your beauty and vulnerability, melts my heart. What do you need from me?” She asked, “Please tell me more about your desires, wishes, interests and curiosities. I want to know what lights you up and I want to know what switches you off, where are the boundaries and edges?” I told her my sexual history, my hurts, fears and frustrations. “How would it feel to let in the knowing that there is absolutely nothing you can say or do to stop deserving love, respect, care and adoration?” Of course, completely magical.
I was asking her questions too. “How do you feel, when you take control?” She said, “I feel free to love”. She spoke a lot of love, perhaps especially when managing me: I declared my love at that zoom, and she wrote, “I love you Abigail, wholeheartedly. Perhaps not in the way that you ache for, but in the ways I can and am able to. It was all serious, open and loving on all the levels. I never once not took you seriously, or took it as a joke or a game. I wanted to give you all that I had and was able to give. I still do. I feel tremendous gratitude and honor to witness, hold and protect you. You will always have my protection, care and tenderness.” At the same time, she told me of wanting a man to commit to, so she could have children.
She shared her vulnerability: we video called after she had been hurt, and she told me of her life. This was sincere. The more sincerity she can show, the more captivating she is. “Female power is artful,” she told me. She is not always physically stronger than her subs, as a man would be. She uses all of herself to maintain dominance. She was unafraid to show me her vulnerability: it bound me to her more strongly.
“I struggle receiving adoration,” she said. I believe this is true. She has difficulty being valued, as many people do, not valuing herself fully. I value her intellect, will, and abilities.
She values a particular spirituality of authenticity, which is liberating. Humans live in masks and illusions. We lie to ourselves and each other. My main inner conflict is holding myself in contempt, and she encouraged me to speak from the contemptuous part. After, I felt more integrated, surer of being one whole human being. I started consciously speaking the words that came into my head: a thought would flash across my mind, then the counter-thought “You can’t say that!” Then I would say it. I wrote to her, “I feel broken open, and more in touch with feeling and desire.”
Quaker spirituality also highly values authenticity, but is intensely communal. It is about living together and the needs of the community, rather than this individualism.
I am submissive. Many of my problems with that come from denial and rejection. I condemn it as weak, when I should care for it: the less respectable members of the body are treated with greater respect. I wished it gone. I decided that the experience of conscious submission would help me know and accept myself. On zoom, I spoke of being submissive, as the things I hide have power over me, and speaking them may reduce that power. I am not afraid of appearing ridiculous. I have transitioned! That ship has sailed!
She texted, “Love you so much Abigail, you are so precious. I was quivering from hearing and witnessing your softness and truth. It is a glorious treasure. What part of you aches to be seen, held and loved?” I replied, “I ache to submit to you. May I call you ‘Mistress’?” She said, “How vulnerable and heartwarming. Yes, you may call me Mistress.”
So I did. At first it was often a distancing joke, but increasingly I felt an erotic charge calling her that. I told her. “Mmm, good. So now you use it intentionally.” “Yes.” “Good girl.” “I am delighted to please you, Mistress.” Soon after I was calling her “Mistress” habitually. Quoting “Good girl” now, I feel an echo of the same delight. The alcoholic smells the whisky.
I was ambivalent about submitting. I said male subs are ridiculous and disgusting, and she agreed: “Male subs are ridiculous and disgusting, but even that holds beauty and deep vulnerability to show up totally in ones filth.” It is so close to affirming my authentic self, which I need, which would empower me. In fact, it is affirming me when I submit to her, which takes my power away.
We sexted. She sent a video of using her riding crop to caress her leg, and we imagined me kneeling to her. She told me that she is so empathic that when she ordered me to hold still with the feelings, she could feel what I felt. I told her I felt open, receptive, feeling it in my belly and wrists, with my heart open. She said, You know if I come to visit you I will control you, bring rope and tie you up. I said I want to be physically, emotionally and spiritually naked before you.
“Your texts are like fingertips lightly laid on my arm.”
“Mmm, your receptivity is gorgeous.”
I realised her withdrawal of attention affects me, as her attention does. She asked, “How does it affect you?” “You are the erotic Goddess,” I said. “The very thought of you has me helpless.” “Helpless, mmm. Good girl.”
And I felt uncomfortable. I liked the erotic play (though only by text and video), I dived in, and this means I have to adjust my answer to the question “Who is it that I am?” I may be inconsistent, but I am one human being. I will not chase reassurance telling myself, oh, that’s not who I am really. I have tried that. Such illusions do me no good. I told her I could say, it’s just a game, I am not serious, it is not real life, I could stop any time I want… Again, I would be deluding myself. She asked, “What if you do not have to adjust anything. What if this asks you to be everything and all that you are, possibly can be or deny in yourself?”
This offer is illusory. I will discover myself, I will be myself authentically, is the promise, but in fact I will be controlled by her conditional approval, and degrade myself. I am susceptible to this treatment, perhaps not everyone is. I could not dominate, and she can.
She sent photos of herself in lingerie and opera gloves, or a kinky nurse outfit, caressing her crop, looking dominating and aroused, and I texted, “Oh, Mistress, I wish you were here. I love your photos. I hunger for your crop.” She was staying with a friend, but the friend had told her to leave, so I offered to put her up for a bit. Then she sent me a selfie of her with a sub, who was rubbing her feet.
That disturbed me. I wrote, “I look at the photo with your sub. To me, you look professional, disinterested, satisfied. You are inviting the viewer to see the sub’s humiliation. Then I look at you as a nurse, with a crop, and am in the position of the sub. I can’t get you out of my mind. I am attracted to strong, dominant, controlling women, so can hardly complain when you are strong and dominant. This is the experience I want: you as your whole glorious self. Just, I might resent a little, or struggle against the silk, a little.”
On 16 March we video-called. I spoke what came into my head though judging and questioning it. I told her I had been looking at her photographs and could not think of anything else but her. Then that I am not here for what I can get from you. Then, after resistance, feeling it ridiculous: “I love you”. “I love you too,” she said.
On Saturday 19 March, I was desperate to see her, and asked to video call. She agreed, and seeing her my oxytocin exploded. I felt delirious. Over a two hour call she continually touched her hair, tied up in a knot, and watched my reactions. When she let it down I was delighted. And I did not want to submit. I said I wanted to hold her and caress her hair, and she said that would be like a leopard treated as a kitten.
I wanted her here as my friend, and that was not on offer. I wanted to be trusted, I wanted to be able to give a gift of my space. After two hours, I said, “You bless me,” and she laughed: she “blesses” her subs by pissing on them. “You have two minutes, that’s the limit,” she said. I submitted. I said, “Goodnight, Mistress,” she replied “Goodnight Abigail” and blew me a kiss. I was back as the sub.
I looked at her twitter. Over a picture of her piggy, she had written, “Serve and play with me… in N–shire 11-18 April”- where I live, when I had invited her. That tweet came down when I told her I did not want her bringing anyone to my house.
She had gone too far with me. Sunday, she texted “How are you today?” I replied in a friendly manner. Then, “I want to make sure you are going to be okay with me coming over and us spending time together. Can I trust you to look after yourself and also be clear with boundaries? I do not wish to receive ANYTHING from you unless it is coming voluntary from your own will and heart.”
That sounds perfectly reasonable, and is not. I am susceptible, and she plays on my vulnerability. Another tweeting domme is more honest: “Your mind and body will become addicted to my control.” One of Miss Dark Waters’ tweets is of a text from her sub: “Just settling down to work on your photos with a beer and piss ice cube in it. What a giant mind fuck!” She leaves ruby ice cubes with him as a “treat”, and he consumes them. I would have worked out quicker why her piss ice cubes were red if I had a uterus. I suppose, the ice cube gives him a sense of connection with her, which he bolsters with his text. He can’t help himself.
I realised I don’t have a boundary. She spoke of pissing on subs, and I started imagining it. It degrades her, as well as them. As she withdrew she blamed and managed me: “Just a bit of a break and withdrawal of us interacting is needed. I feel quite silly now and perhaps I should have never been so open with you. I do feel awful, like I have manipulated you, while under belief that everyone is an adult and can hold themselves. I really value and appreciate you being honest and truthful. You are still loved, appreciated and adored.” She was more honest when she said, “It works however I want it to”.
I have learned from the experience. I like submission. I will accept and be gentle with this part of myself- because rejecting it and trying to crush it out of existence has not worked. I still want to open up like a flower, but that can only happen in a faithful, loving relationship, and I do not know where I could find that. So I must protect myself.
I continue to read her twitter, to see how she is. She may be reading here too. On 2 April she tweeted that judgment of her games as degrading comes from contempt and self-hatred. Whereas, what I have learned from her is my value, and how I deserve to protect myself. But, if you really think drinking piss is “deliciously liberating”, don’t let me stop you.
Self-hatred? Yes, if treated in a particular way I can be brought to kiss a woman’s feet. But, treated better I could be a supportive partner. If a woman is the victim of coercive control, we do not claim her controlled, abnegating self is her full potential, or her authentic way of being. I am worth so much more than this.
28 April: A month later, I am still processing. I had no boundary, I thought. Would I have drunk her piss, when it came to it, or would some unconscious mechanism prevent it? I refused, and she did not come here, but I might have, if she had.
Why should she not dominate? It brings in a living. In financial domination, a sub might give her £200 for nothing but the feeling of giving her money. Humiliating subs might be a way of keeping score. I imagine dommes laughing together- you made him do what? She exploits the susceptibility of starving, damaged people.
I remain susceptible. I published this, which hurt her. “She is bad news,” my friend told me. And still I feel wistful about what felt like a romantic connection. I even texted her, saying I would have been happy under her control, just did not want to be humiliated.
I miss her gorgeous attention- texting daily, hour long video-calls- and am unclear about the personality, the human being, behind it. I hunger for connection, and it felt like warm and affirming connection. I don’t know her motivation. Some of it might have been interest and liking. Some was the desire to manipulate. When we ceased communicating, she was going to come to my house, and wanted complete control there. She did not trust me unless I was not only obedient, but kneeling or tied up. I wanted her there as a “friend”, and that was no good to her.
She objectified herself in photos and in calls, hiding parts, giving me what I wanted. Relationship means entering the mystery of the other, valuing and caring for her, seeing and being seen as we truly are.
20 May: Has she wronged me? She wrote, “I have been in your place more than once in my life and worked extremely hard to stay conscious and not be swallowed up by my victimhood”.
She is a sex worker. I noticed her professional detachment in her photo with her pig. It appears possible for some people to have sex without emotional involvement, like eating at a restaurant. In me, sexual arousal produces an emotional bond, even if not reciprocated. She worked hard to produce that sexual arousal and emotional connection. It is her profession. I knew it was ridiculous even as I said it, but I meant, “I love you”. I resent her saying “I love you too”. It deeply affected me, and she was playing a game. “It works however I want it to,” she said. My hurt did not matter.
She hurt me badly, and I call her responsible. I am doing what I can to unpick the emotional bond and repair the damage. This page hurt her, too. She took her twitter down, briefly, but it is back up.