So I’m a Pro Domme

We got that out of the way. Good. Yes, I am a Professional Dominatrix. No, I do not walk around in latex 24/7. I don't even like wearing latex. (Sorry, latex lovers. You look lovely, but it isn't for me.) The first question I am frequently asked is "How did you get into this?" or "How did you get here?"

How did I get into it?

I got started in the kink community when I was 19. It was over 20 years ago. I gained a lot of experience and eventually, I started to educate in my local communities. Of course, that meant I was fairly active in the community as well.

So, when my husband (at the time) lost his job, we were facing an issue since I was a freelancer, and could not pay the bills. A friend of mine suggested it, noting that I knew what I was doing, and I had the experience. I accepted the suggestion, took on mentorship from her and two others and there we were.

Then, I stopped. I got a divorce and needed a job that looked good on paper. With a background in marketing and communications, I figured it’d be easy enough to land something decent. It wasn’t.

And that leads us to the question of, "How did you get here?"

The first job I took kept me below the poverty line. The second one started great. Then, gender bias showed up. Communication was a mess. Management was worse. And I was paid so little I couldn’t keep my head above water.

One night I got an automated email saying I’d been removed from the company tools. No warning either. The CEO had spoken to me the day before, even apologized for something, telling me he was just “all over the place.”

The next morning, he called me over and over. I wouldn’t answer. I knew he was being shady and trying to fire me over the phone, keep it unofficial, and avoid having to deal with unemployment paperwork. I demanded a letter. Eventually, he sent one. It listed a bunch of nonsense “complaints” that had either been resolved months ago or were so minor they barely made sense.

I was already job hunting. I’d been doing it for months. I needed out. And in the back of my mind, I always knew I had another path waiting. Then they pulled that crap.

Suddenly, I had no job. No money. And unemployment wouldn’t come through for weeks. I’d had a few interviews that looked good. One with an offer blocked by corporate, another where they “promised” me an offer and then ghosted.

So yeah. Call me jaded. Call me pissed. Call me over the corporate world. I spent years doing this on the side, hiding me, my face, my name, and everything else. I'm not anymore.

This is my job. My livelihood. And I care about it deeply.

Being a Pro Domme is not a gimmick. It's work. It's skilled emotional labor, psychological strategy, performance, communication, project management, marketing, writing, and yes, a tiny bit of "weird". It's a lens to see people through. You're exposed to power dynamics, vulnerability, and all types of intimacy. I take what I see through that lens very seriously, and I treasure it. It colors what I write, create, and what I explore.

This Substack won't be about leather and whips. I want to talk to you about what I do, about connection, about asking better questions in how we relate to ourselves and each other. This is about the very odd and complicated intersections of exploration, identity, autonomy, and storytelling.

Some days, we get an essay. Some days, we get some education and answers to common questions I see all the time. Questions like "What does a Dominatrix actually do?", all the way to "Is it normal that I want...uhh...that?" (Most likely it is normal.)

Other days, it will be a peek behind the curtain of my life. How it works navigating this side of things, life, faith, relationships, family, and this strange space where sometimes I get paid to force someone to stand up straight and speak properly while I paddle them.

So yeah. I am a Pro Domme. Now you know. Yes, my Mother knows. She has her own thoughts.

Welcome.