The Dorky Dominatrix
The Dorky Dominatrix
Dominatrixes are supposed to be intimidating, cool, powerful, the “coolest chick ever,” for controlling their sexuality. But what if they were dorks? They didn’t start cool, everybody has a first day.
I’ve always felt a little bit like a dorky dominatrix. Not because I live the lifestyle, not really. I’ve never been deep into BDSM culture, nor do I own an extensive collection of latex or floggers. But I needed a part time gig. And frankly, this was the highest-paying gig I could get without a professional degree.
There’s no exam, license, or state certification to become a dominatrix. You don’t need permission from the government or a diploma to spank someone for cash. As a friend once told me, “Fake it till you make it.”
And so I did.
I’m attractive, smart, brave, and motivated to make money. In my twenties, I dabbled a bit in the kink scene—joined a swingers club, posed for fetish photography. But for me, it was more like dress-up than a deep lifestyle commitment.
So when I decided to give dominatrix work a real shot, I wondered: how do you become one? Is there a rulebook?
I started where many do—YouTube. I watched videos of women dominating men, trying to study tone, rhythm, and energy. Eventually, I found a weekend training course—$2,000 for a crash course in pro-domming. Pricey, but I figured it would be dazzling.
Before the class began, the instructor—a professional dominatrix—interviewed me to make sure I was a good fit. One of the first things she asked was: “Do you have trauma around sex?”
I said no.
She emphasized that the workshop was not a space to unpack personal issues. “This is skill-sharing,” she said firmly. “If you’ve experienced abuse or trauma, I recommend seeing a therapist first. This isn’t therapy.”
Fair enough. I was there to learn technique, not process emotion. I reassured her that I was grounded, focused, and ready to learn.
But as the weekend unfolded, I found the training a bit... underwhelming. Most of it was common sense: basic consent conversations, safe-word protocols, a few demonstration scenes. Some parts felt more like theater camp than an elite skills bootcamp. I left feeling like I’d just spent $2,000 on things I could’ve learned from Reddit, YouTube, and a few good books.
Still, I kept an open mind—until something strange happened.
During one group exercise, a man began to tear up while sharing his story. “I’m just glad to have a safe space to express myself,” he said through sobs. I felt for him, so I quietly handed him a tissue.
Immediately, one of the facilitators snapped at me: “Let him have his moment!”
I was stunned. I hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t said a word. Just passed him a tissue. The same people who had warned me not to bring emotion into the room were now allowing someone to take up class time sobbing. The hypocrisy stung.
Needless to say, I wouldn’t recommend the course. Two, maybe three stars—if I’m generous.
Becoming the Dorky Dominatrix
So, how do you actually become a dominatrix? You can spend money on equipment—rubber gloves, paddles, ball gags, and blindfolds. You can browse tutorials, read blogs, and join forums. But honestly, a lot of it is intuition and communication.
Start with a five-minute interview with client:
Do you like blindfolds?
Ball gags?
Do you want to be tied up?
Dirty talk? etc.
One guy’s fantasy is another guy’s hard no. If it’s not a “hell yes,” it might be a no.
I do soft domination—nothing too intense. You can get started with stuff from your kitchen drawer: spatulas, wooden spoons. Fuzzy handcuffs from your local adult store. Lingerie. Maybe a hundred bucks gets you started.
My favorite moments are when we do fantasy role-playing. I really get into character (as the evil stepmom, disappointed teacher, or angry co-worker) who slowly seduces but angrily punishes her partner. These moments are projections of the man’s fantasy, a freeing theatre mediated by you. Men want a space where they are not in charge, a space where they can explore their most vulnerable selves. I swear we need a male feminist revolution.
Safety First
Screen your clients. Use services like Verify Him or Mr. Number to vet phone numbers. Trust your instincts. If someone gives you a weird vibe, don’t see them.
Always have a safe space. Early on, I had a guy friend wait in the next room during appointments. I didn’t tell clients—some guys get spooked if they know another man is nearby—but it gave me peace of mind.
Until you feel confident, fake it ‘til you make it. Then collect your Tribute and have fun.
Inside the Session
The hardest part? Filling the time. Try different positions. Tie him to a chair. Then the bed. Maybe against the wall. Spank him. Talk dirty. Suck on your nipples? Sure. Make him suck on a rubber cock? If he’s into it, why not?
I don’t have a lot of tricks up my sleeve. But I’ve learned that presence matters more than perfection. If you ever feel insecure or uncomfortable, take a step back. Check in. You don’t have to get it right—just make sure it feels right.
Remember: you're in control. You’re a beautiful woman. Guys are submissive when horny and eager to please you Queen. They’ll believe you’re a seasoned pro even when you’re winging it. Just get the Tribute upfront!!!!!
You can even practice with a friend. Take turns—top and bottom. It helps to know what sensations feel like on both ends of the whip, so to speak.
And most importantly: communicate. Tell your client, “If something doesn’t feel good, we can stop or switch things up.” No big deal.
Where to Get Clients
There are many websites that let you meet people to practice, hang out, or play: like FetLife.com, if you want to meet other freaky people. With some google searches you can find some websites put yourself out there. Market yourself: look at what other people charge as tribute for comparable services. Good luck and have fun (Stay safe, always)!
As Marilyn Monroe once said: “Guys are stupid and they like big boobs.”
Good luck. Be safe. Get alot of donations for your charitable inclinations.