• Domina Dali

Domming Is Empathy On Drugs

I've been a big lover of origin stories my whole life. Especially when it comes to the heroes and villains I love to read about. How do people become who they are? What twists someone and makes them evil? How are we driven to be good despite the odds? I find it so very fascinating. I suppose you can draw some parallels between Dominatrix work and vigilantism. Operating slightly outside the law in this unregulated "wild west" like state while wearing sexy outfits with a bundle of rope in hand.


I look back to the games I played as a kid and I can't help but laugh. I was always this way; kinky, queer, dominant, weird, all along. Playing "Girls vs Boys" and being the guard to the boys prison cell. Which was really just a little patch of dirt in a cement school yard. Dangerously putting plastic bags over my friends heads and even my own. Encouraging people to lick each others arm pits and encouraging boys to dress as women. Sticking my skin with poppy pin needles was an annual festive remembrance day treat. "Lest we forget", for better or for worse pain is really the greatest memory tool. And of course, the forts we built and the things we did inside them..


In my teens I attended an all girl catholic high school here in Toronto; and yes, I still have my official catholic school girl kilt. While all my friends were exploring sex and relationships for the first time, I remember feeling very ambivalent towards it myself. There was just a gap in my framework where a desire for sex and attraction should go. At the same time I would be bludgeoned by day dreams of violence and brutality. Maybe it was the Bible's Greatest Hits of Rape, Torture, and Murder being read to us, or maybe it was just me. At the time I didn't understand that this was my sexual appetite budding and I felt very ashamed about it. Maybe the shame was also just apart of my catholic upbringing. I'm not really sure how much high school effected me, I vaguely remember it. All I'm really left with are thoughts of the mean lesbians in school girl kilts, smoking in the back of the school and burning each other with cigarettes. My lousy tourist t-shirt would read, "I went to an all girl catholic high school and all I got were these weird kinks".


Eventually I realized that my desires were normal. Or at the very least, that there were others like me, that had all the same strange fascinations and perversions that I do. As soon as I was old enough I began attending fetish events. I didn't have any friends that were interested so I would go alone. I was immediately welcomed with open arms. It felt like finding home and being on an amazing adventure all at once. I have many amazing stories to share that all deserve their own place, but this one is about the birth of Dali.


At first I had an insane appetite for pain...I tried everything that was available to me. Blackening, bleeding, and setting fire to my body in throws of pleasure pain. The adrenaline thrills of fear and the ecstasy of spinning out of control. One too many fake or just downright bad Fetlife "Dom(me)s" later, I was beginning to carry some bad trauma around my desires. The thing I desired most was becoming inaccessible to me, and that, in its own way was a new trauma forming. Like Alex in "A Clockwork Orange" my core programming had been so horribly corrupted by the unspeakable consent violations and emotional betrayals, that "a bit of the old ultraviolence" that I had once so loved was making me sick. Looking back, I wish I had hired someone to engage in this part of myself with while I still could. Knowing that it would be a professional experience, meaning my needs would come first, that they wouldn't take their own desires and force them on to me or neglect mine all together. That they would work hard to create a safe space and look out for my physical and emotional well being. Not that all pro dommes work this way, but that's another story.


Through out this long period I also began engaging in self play. Meaning, I was tying myself or sticking myself with needles like I did when I was a kid, with the bonus of knowing how to do it safely this time around. A sort of kinksters version of masturbating. Sometimes I'd meet people I would connect with and want to be intimate with but I could no longer bottom, no matter how much I wanted or desperately needed to. A lot of the people I was beginning to connect with were also happily on the submissive side of the slash. Domming became freeing, satiating, and relieved all the pressure that was building up inside me. It was release and let me connect in the way that I needed to, that plain old sex or bottoming wasn't going to do for me anymore. It felt healing to be able to give people what they needed, what I couldn't get. Domming is empathy on drugs.

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