When you reserve one sex workerit’s not just a free for all, you know. There are rules of etiquette that must be followed.
If you book me as a dominatrixI have a few golden rules that I expect every client to follow religiously. If you don’t, well there will be a penalty.
Punctuality is important, of course; but usually the customers are 10 minutes early, the little bullies. Don’t be early. There is a very good cafe at the end of my street. I don’t mind them being so late: as your scariest teacher would say, it’s their time they’re wasting.
Along the way, please don’t bombard me with a million messages. I am walking to my train station now. I’m on my train. The train is four minutes late. I’m still aiming to get to Broadstairs six hours early, though, so that’s probably good. Can you see me early or do I have to wait? are you sure Not even a little early? Can you recommend a cafe where I can sit while I wait?
GONE. I will see you at the appointed time and I will ignore you before then. My time is precious. I’m 50 this year: I don’t have a spare second to waste.
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Before the big day dawns, don’t even bother me with endless questions about the session. I’m not talking about genuine questions that require answers from new, uninitiated customers, of course. I mean nonsensical introductions to get you in the mood.
“What are you going to do to me, miss?” it’s my pet.
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How on earth should I know? When I meet you and take your pants off, I’m going to start a one-hour science experiment on your bottom to see how it reacts to strokes, pokes, and more sensual play.
Whatever they enjoy, I will do it until you are satisfied. How do you think I can determine what it might be from a distance?
I suppose I’m actually expected to say, ‘You’re going to get exactly what you deserve, little tinker, and a whole lot more!’ But I object to engaging in role-playing games before I get paid. Be patient.
While I’m on the subject of annoying emails, only slightly more annoying is the question: ‘What won’t you do?’
Please don’t make me guess which of the trillions of fetishes out there might be yours. What won’t I do, Keith? Oh so many things!
Park opposite; bake cakes; punch kittens in the face; dislocate my elbow. Do you mind narrowing it down for me a little teenager? I promise I won’t be offended, whatever you ask.
I will say yes, no, or perhaps, under these circumstances: but I swear I will not be angry, nor disgusted. Be brave. It will take a lot of guesswork to prove that you want to stand in a pool of spaghetti hoops while I flick your nipples with 5p coins and sing the National Anthem. Which I will, but you will need to provide your hoops and a song sheet.
When you finally get out, please be clean. I have a sensitive nose. We are in the middle of sweating WINEi understand, and you’re welcome to shower at my place if you have to, but please don’t inhale the smell of garlic from your long lunch or cigarette smoke.
And please, for the love of God, learn to back off. Hanging berries are not attractive, especially when I have to spend an hour looking at them.
Pay when you arrive! Otherwise I forget. Please don’t go out penniless and ask me to direct you to the nearest cash point: my neighbors have plenty to gossip about already. Only if it’s a very expensive appointment will I consider letting you transfer first.
Oh, and if you’re bleeding after a demanding hard hit, please don’t sit on my couch to put your pants back on. That’s just rude.
Finally, don’t be harsh in the hope that I will hit you harder. If you want me to hit you harder, say ‘please hit me harder’. Discontent is not a currency.
Criticizing my technique or my outfit will ensure that I never see you again, and if you’re really unpleasant, I might lose my temper. As I say, I’m 50: don’t mess with these ever-fluctuating hormones and expect to have a happy afternoon.
I only lose my temper once every five years, but damn me, every time is impressive. I once threw a man so hard, he was marked for eight months.
He had committed all the unforgivable sins: left early, neglected to pay, asked for a discount halfway through the session, criticized my choice of blouse, gave me a tiny cluster of berries embedded in his excellent sweaty pubes. Not just blocked, but nearly broken by my rage.
Don’t be my next victim. Or at least, just be the victim we both want you to be.
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