I was at a play party last Sunday afternoon and I met a man.  It was obvious from the whip in my hand and my outfit that I am a dominatrix.  I was with a friend, another boss baddie, and we were looking for ass to whip.

In the end, I found one of my favourite subs, and I gave him something to think about, enough marks to generate lots of conversation with his girlfriend later.   I love that.  Its as if she and I send each love letters—she sends him to me, and I send him home fully marked and newly and profoundly obedient. And in this exchange, he finds immense pride.

But that is not what this is about. Entitlement shows up everywhere, from boardrooms to monasteries — as I experienced first-hand in my Boss Baddies diary.

So this man came up to us, to me, and I said, “have you been a bad boy?  Are you looking for a whipping?”

His response was menacing.  “I don’t submit to anyone.  I’m an MMA fighter.”  He flexed. This pensive way he rubbed the muscle between pinky and wrist, and the sunken, angry look in his eyes, made me quite comfortable.

“Well baby,” I said, “you’ve come to the wrong place.  When you’re ready, and I know you will be, come and ask me nicely to strip you and put you on the St Andrew’s cross.  I think a beating is what you need.”

“Never,” he said.

Well, for the next hour or so, as I was administering to a parade of lovely subs, I noticed him hovering, always just out of the arc of the spotlight, but watching, watching intently.  He was a true poker face.  But when I gave really hard blows, ones which boomed out their sound, I stared into his eyes and he stared back.  Those blows were for him.  I could see the struggle inside him.

When I rejoined my friend, she had collected a puppy who was happily underfoot, his leash in her hands.  She spoke of this MMA fighter, and that he had approached, wanting to kiss her feet.  She had dismissed him out of hand.

“He was too creepy,” she said

“Yes, he is, but he’s a sub.”

“Totally.  Just doesn’t know it.”

As we sat there chatting, he came by and sort of stared.  At me.  The humiliation of kneeling at a trans woman’s feet?

Later, as we were leaving, I spoke to him.

“I see you,” I said.  “Right into you.  I know what you need.”  He started to speak.  “Shh,” I said bringing my finger dangerously close to his face.  “You don’t need to speak.  To say anything.  I want you to think about what it would mean to come to me.  To kneel before me.   And to ask me politely to beat you.  To beg me to whip you.”  And he made to speak again. “No baby,” I said, “not tonight.  Tonight you will go home.  And you will think about what you really need. What you really want.  And when you are ready, you come to me, and you will kneel, and you will politely and quietly tell me.  And if you are polite enough, sincere enough, I will give you a beating. A beating you know deep down that you crave.  I do see you.  I’m not afraid of what I see.  And what I see is worth love.  But you need to be ready to take that step.  Now go,” and as he got up, silently, I added, “Go and get my coat,” and I handed him my coat-check ticket.  And do you know what?  He took it, and went and got my coat.

My friend was like, “what just happened?”

“I am going to tame the beast.”

He returned with the coat and held it to me.  I looked at him and he understood and held it properly so I could put my arms in.

“Good boy,” I said.  He made to speak. “Not. yet,”  I said, silencing him, “you need to earn that.”  Amazingly, he stayed silent.

“When you’re sure you are ready, really really sure, then you go to my website, read it, and apply.  And we’ll take it from there.  And know this: I will never make fun of you.  I see how strong you are, but I will also tell you that the journey you step into with me is the most challenging journey you will ever face.  I only work with men who understand that and are man enough to follow my lead. I know you are that kind of man. You’re just not ready yet, but you will be.”

And with that we left and went out for pizza and had lovely girly talk.

Do I like men like that?  Not one bit.  They are scary as shit.  They are the kind of man that makes you clutch your keys between your fingers.  But I also know that almost no man alive wants to be that man.  Every man wants love. Every man wants a mother to love him.  And a whip-wielding, behaviour-correcting Mistress is such a popular icon for a reason, is sometimes one of the best ways to bring a man like this, who has no other path to turn to, back into the loving womb of socially acceptable behaviour.

I can only think that a man like this has turned to MMA because he’s already in pain.  He wants Mommy. And do you know what?  I am there for that. I will walk into the eye of the storm and reach out to him, get him to cry out for Mommy in the dark, to cry out to be rescued, to cry out to be loved, seen, accepted. And in that moment I will meet him and be Mommy.

I know he can take a beating, and I will give it to him, but can he take the loving?  And my benchmark is a taming of the beast. That he never lift a finger against a woman.  Ever.

I admit, this post is way off the headline at this point.  But the truth? This is the point.  All the bros are the same.  They are acting out.  Just like little kids.  Broken, hurt, little kids.  And a society populated and run by broken, hurt little kids is not going to get us to a happy place.

Ever wonder why I think Sex Workers are saints? This is why. There is risk in what we do, and yet, we still show up with an open heart, ready to love that which struggles to find love anywhere else.

The reward of having a “toxic” man like this find his way to me, on my terms, is already a gift, and to then break him down before rebuilding him is utterly fulfilling.

In the meantime, please someone educate Melania Trump in the art of female domination.  And for those of you companions who get to the Muskrat, don’t give him what he says he needs, give him what you know he needs, a good old-fashioned spanking.

An Invitation

If you are here, something in you has already responded.

This is not casual booking, and it is not for everyone. I work with people who are curious, intelligent, and willing to take responsibility for what they want.

Those who wish to work with me do not request. They present themselves.

Begin here.

About Me

Mx Valentina is a feminist dominatrix, a trans and intersex woman, whose practice centres on ethical power exchange and the conditions under which lives reorganise themselves around purpose rather than shame. Her work is selective and relational, grounded in the belief that submission is not a role to be played but an orientation that must already be present. She works only with those who understand that access is conditional and authority is not negotiated.  You can find my scholarly feminist writing on Substack and lighter pieces on Medium.