I Was A Teenage Dominatrix

"You can only blame your parents for so much," says Shawna Kenney in her breezy memoir, I Was a Teenage Dominatrix, quickly disassociating herself from the common stereotype of the sex worker as a desperate victim of a male-dominated culture. Indeed, while Kenney's career choice may be shocking to some, her affable, conversational style reveals how an intelligent college student, short on cash, finds dominatrix work a viable way of making ends meet--there's no sex, it's great money, and there's plenty of time for homework.

After guiding readers through a largely uneventful childhood and rebellious adolescence, Kenney ranges through a wide collection of professional anecdotes that are by turns hilarious, downright disgusting, and even poignant. Cranky from having to wear uncomfortable stiletto heels, for instance, Kenney finds a creative way to gain relief: "'Remove my shoes, you stupid slut,' I ordered.... From then on I was the barefoot dominatrix. I'm sure high heels were designed by some man, anyway." Many of the most unusual clients, however, are those who aren't interested in heels or bullwhips--they pay just to talk. "My wife died twelve years ago," sobs one client. "I haven't been this close to a woman since." Another, a cross-dresser from Argentina, only wants acceptance: "I come from a country where it is very important to be macho. To be like me is a disgrace." Along the way, Kenney reveals keen insight into what goes on behind the closed doors of so-called "normal" people and gains greater understanding of her own attitudes toward friends and romance. With the conspiratorial tone of a best girlfriend conversing over coffee, she shares moments of laughter and tears (as well as a few other bodily fluids), but never once resorts to pure shock or self-pity. Those seeking a morality tale of how the "bad" girl gets her comeuppance should look elsewhere. This is a refreshing, honest portrait of a young woman determined to make something of herself on her own terms. --Ginger Dzerk