Kristian MichailIt's 2016. I'm 23. I get invited to a free session with a Dominatrix. She is nearly double my age. This wouldn't be the first time she has put boys in a cage. The crazy idea of getting slapped around. Sounds like a funny experience I can share around town. I arrive at 5. My mum's birthday is at 7. They say a bit of hell is a slice of heaven. The dungeon is dark. Packed with leather. My greatest fear of torture is being tickled with a feather. She asks me what I want. I tell her the degustation. I am fascinated to see the taboo skills behind this vocation.
She starts with the whips. Then proceeds to the candles. Her attempt at trash talk is something I couldn't handle. I begin to laugh. I feel a bit rude. I was kind of expecting her language to be a bit more crude. She pulls out the needles. Then tries electrocution. BDSM is much more than standard prostitution. That word alone sells the process short. The best of the best sex workers treat this art like a sport. This lady was lovely. A talented soul. I laugh like a child as I am tied to a pole. It wasn't my style. But I gave it a go. Another item off the bucket list before it's my time to go. I head to my mum's birthday with a smile on my face. I tell my family the story, I fear their disgrace. The deepest part of all of us wants to be embraced. Loved for who you are. Loved for being wild. Loved like the times when we were innocent as a child. Adulthood gets serious. We can lose all the fun. I'd rather live on the edge than be a boring son. My parents laugh. They know I'm unique. Deep down they appreciate it's the truth that I seek.
With love, Kristian Michail.