The terms were straightforward. As a female dominant femdom in the 21st-century fetish sphere, I still deal with the same gendered themes. Masculine subjectivity has evolved, mostly in the ways in which women can cater to it: there is an enormous variety of female domination today. She may engage in pegging, or the anal penetration of her male partner using a strap-on dildo.
It is my coldness, my promiscuity, and my disregard of men outside their erotic purpose. In saying that, my perspective is not that of a sadist. I do not have violent sentiments against men.
The distinction, albeit overlooked, exists even in BDSM where consent is required and masochism has been far removed from its supersensual roots. In female domination, the man selects a woman he will make his goddess, like the male dominant who targets and grooms his prey. To me, being a dominatrix has always been about providing a safe space for men to unburden themselves and be vulnerable.
This became clear to me when one of my submissives left his girlfriend for me, a few months ago. I had met him only once, for which my time was compensated. The gesture itself was not surprising.
But the reason behind it was. After that, I never talked to him again until he informed me about his breakup. If anything, I feel more like a distant mother to my clients. It positioned men as a casualty of modernity, especially in this digital age when intimacy is as elusive as ever. She was placed on a pedestal as a fantasy, not as a woman who truly had equal or more social power than her man.
