Confessions of A Dominatrix: Things a Mom Can't Tell Her Sons

Miss Ella's Story

“I am an ordinary woman with a unique set of skills and knowledge,” she says in a low, soft voice that makes you want to lean in and not miss a word. I can't lie. She is very ordinary looking and if you passed her on the street, I doubt you would look twice. She tells the story of having to convince a friend that she wasn't lying when she revealed her secret. “We were in this little bar on a Sunday night listening to blues. Just a little local Arizona biker bar aptly called The Blooze. The kind of place where nobody bothers three single women because everyone in the place already belongs to someone else. The band was loud and this was our first time out on the town together. As it usually does with women, our discussion turned to sex and men. One of the women asked me about my relationships. I decided to try a new angle and said, just straight out, My relationships are a bit different, I'm a female Dominant. Jayne, the other girl, her eyes got real big and she said, “Nuhuh I don't believe it!" I happened to have a small toy bag in the truck so I went out and wrapped my favorite flogger in a towel, brought it inside and laid it on the table in front of her. She unwrapped it and looked at me like an alien, then made me whop her a few times with it.” Friends have never spoken to her after her confession, some use it as bragging rights to others, some ask questions, others simply ignore the fact. “Most people in my world simply accept it, once they know they can ask me anything they want.”
Her name is Ella and soon, I will let her tell you a story that spans 23 plus years of experiences in a life few have access to and many have fantasies about. “I can speak openly about it now. I feel like I'm pretty balanced, pretty done working through my crap.” She says all this without correcting me on her name which should be Miss Ella. As I write that she smiles, which doesn't happen very often and runs a hand through her died black hair, a nervous habit. On her left wrist is a tattoo. The letters R, M, C on the top of her wrist with a vine and blue flowers that attach the letters to a red heart at her pulse point with the letter “E” inside. “The letters represent my kids names. The heart, well that's a secret. I'm still trying to decide if I want to reveal it.” In that moment, Miss Ella becomes mysterious, compelling and real.
I've always been real and I've always lived real. My story isn't pretty. It's not the pretty, sexy pictures you see of women in patent leather corsets and perfect white skin, with the bright red pouty lips. It is real as well, my story that is; real need, real darkness, real struggle and sometimes, real funny. People always ask me how it started and to tell you the truth, I don't really know. It seems like one day I was a wife and mom, then the next day I was exploring this taboo world of sex and control. If there was a beginning I would have to say, it started with curiosity. I was always a sexual being. I'm told, and believe, that comes from early sexual experiences. I was nine years old when I lost my virginity. Try telling that story to someone you want to date! That early incestuous experience led to me being over sexualized my whole life. Looking at it this way, the path my life took seems quite normal.