In which have my first time dispensing pain, discover my inner sadist, and find a piece of my soul in the back room of a strip club.

Long, long ago, when I worked regular 9 to 5 jobs, I noticed a running theme in all My interview notes:

"A Bright and Bubbly Personality!"

And it was true! I am a regular Pollyanna at work and about town, however, it always made Me secretly giggle. Because they'd probably have been shocked to learn the truth about my secret side. Like the fact that this Little Miss Sunshine... has a bright and bubbly sadistic streak! 

I have been a kinkster for as long as I have been sexually active. Rather, I feel I should say, I have been playing, exploring, and practicing kink since the same time as My sexual debut. The true fact of the matter is, even before I knew the words or what they meant, I have always been kinky. Some of Us discover FemDom, and some of Us are born to walk the Queen's Road.

My first active foray into kink

My first time play with any kind of kink was when a high school boyfriend attempted to tie Me up with some satin scarves. I immediately wriggled out of it, tackled him, and bound him to the wrought-iron headboard of my bed. I then proceeded to tease him by slowly running my nails and the tip of my tongue all over his chest and abdomen. He squirmed so much, desperate to be free so he could kiss Me… but I had him right where I wanted him. Denying him, seeing how badly he wanted Me was too much fun.

After that, light sensation play became My next experiment. I’d always given great massages, but what might it be like if I wore satin gloves? What if ran ice over his skin first? How about candle wax… or the edge of a knife? This was before the internet was readily available to most folks, and I had yet to learn about such classic kink films as 9 1/2 weeks. Looking back now, W/we’re all rather lucky no one got hurt, a couple of silly teens just groping wildly in the dark for new sensations!

Finding my power

At 18, I started stripping at my local Gentlemen’s Club. As a stage nerd all through school (dance, choir, theater, poetry) I already knew the allure of the spotlight. However, I was not ready for the absolute rush of power I felt standing proud and naked in the center of the room. This crowd of people (mostly men but quite a few women as well) was hungry… for Me! Some new dancers are intimidated by this, they feel like prey. Not Me, I loved their hunger. Just like the poor boy tied to my bed begging to kiss Me. I loved knowing that I could make these men ache.

And it wasn’t long until that ache became far more literal.

My first sub-client came into the club at the end of my shift (one of the rare times I worked during the daytime). I was in the middle of my last stage set. At this time in My career (about 6 months in) I often expressed My gothic-punky spirit on stage. I stripped out of band shirts and boy briefs, My high heels My only feminine accessories. But this afternoon, I had borrowed a gown from one of the other girls. My presentation was soft, graceful, and sensual.

He laid his tip on the stage. Softly, he asked if I would do a VIP dance after my set was done. There he was, waiting for me on the couch facing away from the entrance. “I… I don’t really want you to dance,” he said nervously. “Oh?” I replied. This wasn’t out of the ordinary. A lot of customers just want conversation while you sit on their lap. The foot lovers will offer you a massage. “I… well… I want you to hit me” he said, his gaze rooted to the floor.

At that moment, I felt something shift in Me, deep inside my body. A feeling of opening, like taking a long, full drink of cool water. I took his face in My hand and made him look at Me. “You want Me to do… what?” my voice stern. He looked slightly panicked. As if he was worried that he may have offended Me. I gave him a sly smile and he said again, “I want you to hit me.” SMACK! I slapped him across the face. A sound of shock and relief came from him in a big exhale. SMACK! I slapped him again, on the other side of his face. His body, tight with apprehension before, relaxed, opened, and he spread his legs.

“Please, oh please… kick my balls. Punch me in the stomach.” PUNCH! SMACK! KICK! With each blow from my hand or kick with my platform heels another gasp, another groan escaped him. I felt Myself getting excited. More than that, I felt Myself getting high! P-TOO! Spit in his face. WHACK, SMACK! My open hands slapped his chest and his cheeks. BAM! SLAP! A knee to the groin and my hand slapping his inner thighs. All too soon the song ended. This is typically the time for a dance to either end or for the customer to throw down more money. “I have more, I have more” frantically he pulled out his wallet, “two more songs, please”. He laid down three times the amount of a trio of lap dances. And W/we began again.

SMACK! SLAM! WHAM! P-TOO! The silly old man begins to shake his head back and forth, repeating “I’m a cuntface! I’m such a little cuntface!” like a mantra of erotic degradation. All this time I’d had a firm grip on Myself, making sure my punches were hitting safer areas, keeping my balance in my 7-inch stilettos while kicking him, but then? It took all My self-control to keep from laughing and “breaking character”. Other dancers and their customers craned their necks to see what the commotion was about only to turn their faces away quickly when they saw me look back. I winked at one of the girls, and she smiled a knowing smile “It's all good over here”.

The “two more songs”, and My shift, finished. He thanked Me and added a hefty tip to the cash pile. I was riding high in the dressing room as I changed into My camouflage pants, combat boots, and Misfits t-shirt. I put away My wig and gave My buzzed scalp a luxurious scratch. Counting my dollars from the day I wondered to Myself, “But why did he pick me?” I was regularly being told by management that I needed to soften My appearance and be more feminine, I would scare customers off. So how is it that when I’m in all My pretty, princess finery… this man could see the Wicked Queen underneath? A Sadistic Goddess that I myself hadn’t fully known was there.

One of the cocktail waitresses came back into the dressing room just as I was pulling on My leather biker jacket. “Hey Kitty, a guy wants another VIP dance”. “But I just got changed… wait, which guy?” She described the silly old man I had my first time paid S/m scene with. I thought for a moment, do I change back into My wig and dress? Nah, fuck it, let’s see what he thinks of Me now.

My secret side, and showing my true face.

I stormed back into the VIP room, a leather-clad riot girl with a shaved head and black boots. “So now you’re gonna come back whining for more?” I asked him. “Please,” he said, “I went to the ATM for more money.” He held up the cash like an offering. I marched towards him and stood over him sitting on the cheap faux leather green couch, black in the red light of the VIP room. "I’ve pulled back the foreskin on my penis and wrapped a rubber band around the base,” he told me, “so it’s extra sensitive.”

I gave him a smirk. “Oh did you now? Let’s see how sensitive you are.” I snatched the money out of his hand and kicked him in the crotch with my boots. Immediately, his whole body balled up in pain, but within a moment, he opened himself to Me again. SMACK! SLAM! P-TOO! “Cuntface” began his mantra again. I spent the next ten minutes beating up on this silly old man like a school-yard bully demanding lunch money from a sniveling nerd. I LOVED this. Afterward, he thanked me profusely and tipped me again. I almost wanted to ask him how he knew to come to me, but I didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.

In the end, I knew it really didn’t matter. What matters is that he found ME, and in my first time Dominating him, I found a part of Myself.

Walking the Queen’s Road is a series of real life experiences that have shaped and influenced me as a FemDom, a kink memoir of sorts. If you enjoy these stories or learned something new, feel free to leave a comment, ask questions, or send a tribute!