Tatiana had just finished tightening her corset when I heard Judith knock on the bedroom door. Judith and her attorney husband, Barry, were hosting a swinger’s party at their home in the Hollywood Hills. They’d hired Tatiana and I to perform at this show and we were now getting ready for it in their bedroom.
A month earlier, Judith had contacted me through my dominatrix profile on a professional BDSM website. She asked if I’d be up for a performance at her fete. She wanted something to warm up the partygoers. Could I dominate someone to turn on the guests?
“So they'll get to fucking, and not just stand around talking,” Judith explained.
I’d been working as a dominatrix in Los Angeles for two years by then. I was heavy into my BDSM exploration, so much so I’d begun to switch. Not professionally, of course. No, I only dominated male clients for money. But I met up with different dommes to sub privately.
Tatiana was one such dominatrix. Long, fiery red hair cascaded down her back, and her eyebrows, meticulously drawn on, added an extra dimension to her expressive green eyes. But perhaps what caught my attention the most was her body—compact yet bursting with energy, like a lit firecracker ready to explode.
I had a thing for her, clearly. I had fantasies about bisexualism and sexual submission, and that’s what compelled me to agree to perform at Judith and Barry’s party. Well, that and the $500 she promised to pay me in exchange. And it was a no-brainer to ask Tatiana to dominate me.
So there we were, in Judith and Barry’s bedroom, getting ready to put on this BDSM show at their hilltop fuck-fest.
Judith had told me she and Barry put on a sex party once a month at their sprawling mansion home. They were exactly the type of Sodom-and-Gomorrah elites who red-state politicians and Bible-thumpers love to decry. By then, I was used to hobnobbing with such people, so I felt right at home at this party.
Tobias snapped photos of us while we prepared ourselves. He was a friend whom I invited along to “memorialize” the event. Okay, so I was also trying to have a sexual relationship with him, though he was celibate. Kinda hard—and not in the good way.
Even though Tobias and I had never had sex, he sometimes tied me up and poured candle wax on my breasts. But unfortunately he was essentially asexual and once told me that my labia looked like the tied end of a balloon, frilled and floppy.
So he was sort of a dick, yet, despite everything, I found myself still pursuing him. He stood tall, his chest broad and muscular, a sight to behold. And when he slipped into that shiny, black latex, he looked utterly irresistible. And yeah, he was a photographer, so I’d invited him along to this party. I needed photos of this event, after all!
Tobias was with Tatiana and me in the bedroom as we readied ourselves for this performance. After hearing Judith tap on the bedroom door, we all told her to come on in.
Judith poked her head into the bedroom and declared: “We’re assembled for your show.”
This was our sign that it was time to shine. Clad in a latex garter belt , attached to black-seamed nylons and nothing else but platform heels, I dropped to my knees.
Tatiana attached a chain leash to the collar I had around my neck. Yanking on the chain, I crawled behind her out of the bedroom, down the hallway, toward the room where we were to perform. Guided by the soft, flickering glow of votive candles, we followed their light to the area of the house where the other partygoers eagerly awaited our arrival. As I turned my head to the left, all I could see were floor-to-ceiling glass windows that opened up to a breathtaking scene—a sprawling, emerald lawn; a pool with a dark, glistening surface; and an expansive view of the entire Los Angeles basin. The twinkling city lights below beckoned to me, but at that moment, I preferred to be here, in the world above.
And yet, amidst the opulence and glamour of this party, a question nagged at my mind: How had I ended up in this glittering, surreal world?I was a “nice” girl from the L.A. suburbs with a degree from UCLA and parents who voted Republican across the board. Well, I guess I’d ended up here because I’d verred away from my family to work as a professional dominatrix. I’d broken the conformist mold offered to me as a young person and rebelled.
My parents didn’t know I had this job. Most of my friends, whom I had shared with, judged me for it. I had wandered so far from who I was taught to be through my childhood. Tonight’s performance was part of that exploration.
It was an exhilarating sensation to investigate the boundaries of my sexuality, a journey that felt liberating, especially as I recognized how the shyness that had seemingly been imposed upon me by my strict and rigid parents had held me back. My childhood had been marked by their stern rules, and I often had to stifle my innate curiosity and creativity just to navigate those years.
Now, as I embraced this newfound freedom, I was piecing together the true essence of who I was. It was like breaking free from a cage I hadn't even realized I had been living in.
I recognized all this as Tatiana led me crawling into the living room, which was decorated entirely in white. Everything, from the walls to the couches, the pillows, the carpet, and even the animal-fur rug upon which we were to perform, was cloaked in the pristine hue of white.
The partygoers made space for us as we approached the rug. The air was dry-hot, even though the decor of the room was arctic.
A twenty-five-year-old man with smoldering handsomeness stared at me with erotic hunger. His girlfriend, in a bra and panties ensemble, gave me a cheeky grin. Two blondes dressed in Catholic-school uniforms, flanked by a surfer dude with copious pecs, were all eyeing me. Tatiana and I came to a stop on the rug.
As I was on all fours, my genitalia was exposed to the crowd. This didn’t embarrass me. I wanted these people to look at my pussy. What a change from how I used to be.
What a prude I used to be. Both my parents and society at large had instilled so much sexual fear in me growing up that I didn’t even see what my vulva actually looked like until I was twenty. I was too ashamed to! Once I did, I thought it was ugly.
I felt a similar shame about my vagina when my college boyfriend, a few years earlier, demanded I let him photograph me naked before I went off on a summer abroad program without him. He ordered me onto my hands and knees on the bed and I had burned with resentment as he snapped photos of my vulva. He claimed he wanted to have something to remember me by while I was gone, but I hated what he’d made me do. I’d felt forced by him to bend over to bare my private parts to him so he could shame me more by photographing them.
But look at me now.
Not only was Tobias taking pictures of my pussy as I waited in front of this audience for whatever Tatiana was going to do to me, but all of these people were staring at it, too. What a difference a few years made.
There was a time when I didn’t even like to walk around naked in front of my boyfriends. Having sex nude was one thing, but being casually naked with another human being was quite another— yes, even if he was my lover. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted a bunch of strangers to be staring at my vulva back then.
Now I welcomed it!
But seriously, I felt like I’d been cut off from my sexuality for most of my adult life. Growing up, it was verboten for me as a developing young woman to experience my body sexually.
I was told not to have sex with a boy or he would just use me. I would get a reputation. My female friends backed up my parents’ fears by gossiping about other young women who did have sex—or at least what was considered to be “too much” sex. In other words, sex without commitment.
My parents never talked about sex with me, growing up. At least they never did unless it was in a negative way. Don’t have sex or you’ll get a reputation, pregnant, or a STD.
I was left to learn about sex by groping around in the literal and figurative darkness. My body was a region unexplored. But now I was investigating it and, even more bizarre and taboo, I was doing this with other people. Other people who were looking at my body.
And I loved it!
A male partygoer exclaimed, "What a pussy!"
I locked eyes with a forty-year-old redhead in Gucci. She snaked her acrylic-nailed forefinger into my mouth and I sucked the digit between my lips. I hoped this would do the trick to get the crowd fucking after our show.
And then I felt it—Tatiana's riding crop smashing down against my ass. She ordered me up but still on my knees while she busied herself with strapping on a harness that held a black-rubber dick.
“Suck my cock, slave,” she demanded of me, and I took the phallus deep into my mouth. It felt weird to be doing this in front of other people and even a little humiliating, but I was also aroused by it. I continued to suck Tatiana’s fake dick until she ordered me to roll onto my back.
“Spread your thighs,” she demanded.
I obeyed her order. My cunt was splayed open, pink and wet. Tatiana inserted her rubber cock inside of me and began to thrust.
Oh, the crowd liked this. They started clapping, whooping and hollering as Tatiana drilled me with her strap-on dick. I never managed to come. I was too nervous to in front of all these people—but it was exciting enough to be watched. I definitely knew I’d masturbate about this experience later.
Tatiana pulled out of me, then shoved the rubber phallus back into my mouth, and I tasted my juices. I continued to revel in the attention, but it was more than that. I felt like I was finally inhabiting my body. I had crossed taboo boundaries and finally found myself. Or at least, I’d found a part of me I never knew existed.
I noticed a woman hovering near me. There was something conservative about her, like in her “real” life she filed papers for an accountant in Century City. She reminded me of what I used to be like before I started on this journey. Prude and inhibited. But, like me, she was now eager to explore.
“I've never kissed a girl before,” she told me. I kissed her, our tongues swirling around in each other’s mouths.
Then another woman, wearing a lavender teddy, approached. “I'm fisting this chick,” she said. “Do you want to watch?”
I didn't even answer her question. I just said, “Fist me.”
I lay back down and she squirted a dollop of lube onto her right hand, then slowly inserted her hand, finger by finger, into my vagina. She only managed to get four fingers in. Still, I’d never had an experience like this before. It was invigorating—a head trip. I didn’t orgasm with the stimulation—and I didn’t need to. I was exploring myself. That was enough.
I thanked the woman and realized Tatiana had walked off. I roamed the party on my own. But soon enough, Tatiana found me again, and tied my wrists behind my back. As she paraded me around, I pushed out my bare breasts and languished in my power. Yes, I was subbing at this party, but there was power in this submission and in my nakedness—in the freedom that I was allowing myself to feel.
Judith then caught up to us to thank us for the show. Our performance had done the trick. Groups of people had slid off to extra bedrooms in the couple’s mansion. People were fucking because of us. Because of me.
As I’d broken new ground on my sexual journey as a dominatrix, I’d helped other people explore their own sexuality. And in performing at this swingers party, I’d discovered more about my true identity. Performing here tonight had aided me in the struggle to find myself.