working with sexworkers

Calico has a wonderful post on the Unofficial Client Rules, which I think should be required reading for anyone planning to see a professional dominatrix. I will, however, add one more:

Your sexworker is not your girlfriend and she probably doesn’t want to become such.

I was amazed recently when I started getting emails from people who found me through the site of the dungeon I occasionally work for asking me out on dates. I understand that because my work is sexual in nature the lines can be somewhat blurry from the outside. I assure you also that the lines are quite clear from the inside. Allow me to explain; when you pay me you do not, in most cases, pay me to beat you. I would do that on my own time if you asked nicely enough. Nor do you pay for the privilege of calling me ma’am which I would request of you if we played more than a couple of times anyway. What you pay for is the privilege of never knowing if I have a headache or am in a bad mood. You pay for not having to care that I only drink skim milk and take my coffee with cream and no sugar. You pay for me to pretend to enjoy administering a light spanking to naughty boys when I’d prefer to have a filthy little slut beg me to cane the hell out of him or her. You pay for the receptionist who called me three hours before my shift to tell me what color shoes you like so that by the time you meet me I look like your fantasy.

Perhaps most importantly you pay me for the privilege of not having to admit to yourself or the outside world that these dirty filthy things are what you want. You pay for not having to own your desires and that is something I would never allow to the people I love, fuck, and beat in my real life. I provide a service and a large part of that service is the assurance that when I see you and your wife at the park I will walk past without a second glance.