They say we are all a product of our parents. Or at least… almost…
Can you imagine? The year is 1987 growing up in Catholic Ireland, in Dublin as a 16-year-old privately educated convent school-girl and arriving home one day, and to my surprise, the front door being opened by my mother aged 48, scantily clad in a black lace bodice, stockings and suspenders, high heeled shoes and a riding crop who simply told me ‘Put the kettle on dear. I’ve got a slave in. He’s just finishing the hoovering’.
As I walked down the hallway in my school uniform following my mother’s orders; I witnessed through the sitting room door, a middle-aged naked man partially clad in a ladies brasserie and thong, with a protruding erection, being lashed on the bare backside by my mother with a riding crop while he shrieked with pleasure.
Can you actually picture this?
You see; my mother was a rather strict disciplinarian. And a femme fatale in her own right! Think Bette Davis meets Marilyn Monroe. She ruled the roost with an iron fist which unfortunately did not make our lives easy. She was simply never satisfied, no matter what she had. It created a very fractious relationship between us and did not make for a very happy home life. It was often besieged by arguments and intermittent rages.
To say she was well suited to the job as a Dominatrix was an understatement. She had practically found her true vocation in life. In fact, it wasn’t just a job- it was actually who she really was.
So how did all this come about?
The truth is; my parents had a very strange marriage. My father was addicted to football and watching TV- Match of the day was a regular fit in our home, whilst my mother had a love of books and the theatre. She had a very curious intellect. They were quite simply not suited. She would never admit it, but she was completely fascinated by sex, not that she was getting any, from my father that was. He’d already checked out of the marriage. But she did take a lover on the side, one of a few I can only guess. One wonders why they stayed together. Security I guess, on her part. Comfort and responsibility on his.
So when recession-clad Ireland in 1987 was suffering the effects of high unemployment, high taxation and mass emigration; my mother; previously employed years earlier as a secretary but now out of work, and feeling frustrated, hopeless and alone, decided to set up her own BDSM business!!
Yes! You know the type? Dressing up in PVC outfits and thigh-high boots. Placing submissive bare-bottomed men across her knee or as I once witnessed, an elderly gent strapped to the staircase bannisters being ferociously whipped as he groaned in ecstasy. She even hosted afternoon tea parties for transvestites on Wednesdays. So when I had a half day from school; instead of attending hockey practice I would stay home and help set the table with her finest china tea set.
She was booked out weeks in advance! Luncheon vouchers are what I liked to call them. Those middle aged cross dressers lived for the mid week mingle! And they were all returning clients. I actually loved talking to them. They were all quite interesting characters. So much so that I was invited to join in! Serving tea and cakes and exchanging admiring glances. Suddenly I was earning a bit of extra ‘pocket money‘ as they liked to call it.
She began the business by placing adverts in contact magazines using a box number to retrieve the replies. The response was overwhelming. So much so that the postman had to ring our doorbell to deliver the first batch of replies in 2 large parcel packages. It proved that there was no recession when it came to sexual fantasies. At least not in Ireland!
You see, life can be quite daunting when you’re just 16. Like any other 16 year old schoolgirl I was a rebel; obsessed with pop music. That’s where I wanted to be. Madonna and The Cure were my favourites ..Oh! and boys. Which I later discovered can be quite challenging creatures at the best of times.
My mother certainly had a handle on them. I don’t think she herself quite realised the power she had over them and how her life journey would take such an interesting turn and unbeknownst to me , how it would eventually influence mine.
And then Auntie came along too..
Because almost 30 years later in 2015 whilst living in London, and after a few hard knocks both personally and professionally and finding myself strapped for cash, I would find myself playing the exact same role. Spanking and whipping the public school boy fraternity. My clients ranged from Politicians, horny MP’s, highly educated business men from the world of law, showbusiness, and even Catholic priests! – the pretty penny brigade is what I liked to call them, and all from the upper echelons of society.
For them, it was simply just a form of entertainment. It might have been just a day out at the races. It’s lovely to make people happy, isn’t it? In fact, I had more respect and generosity from those old boys than the deceptive dating world which has often disappointed me. People do wear rather strange masks don’t they?
And when my closest family friend, my soon-to-be destitute homeless 68 year old Auntie EM found herself in a spot of bother , I stepped in and gave her a helping hand, in more ways than one!
When life kicks you; the only way to respond is by kicking it back, in the balls, and willy of course, if it’s got one that is.
In 2015, with my now estranged mother passed on, we didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but when my gorgeous hot sexy 68 year old Auntie Marie, I called her Auntie EM for short! became quite prominent in my life – She was like my other mother except we were so much closer. Her idea of a day out was measuring the size of a man’s penis to whet the appetite!
She too had no idea of her powers over the opposite sex. A stunning buxom blonde, if only she’d known how her good looks and captivating personality could’ve served her better. She was on the verge of bankruptcy, about to be rendered homeless. Her only option of survival was to work as a carer for the elderly for the paltry sum of £10 an hour. And all because she surrendered her life for the love of 2 abusive husbands. I don’t know which one was worse. The first, a 30 year marriage to a gambling womanizer and the second, an Egyptian toy boy holiday romance who fleeced her of her life savings to support his arranged marriage and family. Could anybody actually be that desperate for love? She was; that was until I tried to knock some sense into her. I knew I had to help her. There was no other way. In fact, for the first time in her 68 years of life, a light was shone on her problem- an addiction to men – and sex, at any cost . Except this time she would finally take control and use it to her benefit.
The benefits of revealing the family secret..
I never imagined that exposing our family secret of my mothers past would eventually be beneficial to her – it was cathartic. ‘Men are lost souls really ‘ she’d say. ‘And that gives them a license to walk all over you?’ I’d reply.
She simply never learnt how to take hold of the whip. Now that I introduced her to the world of willing submissive men, there was lots she was going to learn, and little to have to think about.
Together, I Elaine, then aged 44 and Auntie EM, now renaming ourselves Mistress Elaine and Mature Auntie EM, would set up shop and would make a splash on the London BDSM scene, accepting large sums of money from wealthy powerful men who would fall helplessly and submissively at our feet! The double act that we’d become simply couldn’t cope with the demand, in fact, the phone never stopped ringing!
The clients were of quite an interesting disposition. To say one or 2 of them were like lap dogs was an understatement. You see; fantasy waves a very powerful magic wand. To which the regular run of the mill guy usually succumbs. Like the quiet geeky dentist Max, who’s wife’s idea of sex was a monthly hand job – most likely with a glove on- he simply couldn’t resist being seduced and overcome by a tall powerful woman in thigh high boots – it was the highlight of his life; or the commanding cross dressing army officer ‘Daphne’ who exuded authoritative male confidence, yet his true inner self was expressing himself in the manner of a feminised cross dressing heavily made up she-male who took joy in playing the sexy lady for other men and would gladly slut herself out for money and attention. Or Father Alphonsus – the Catholic priest who felt woefully guilty living out his fantasy of being taken whilst wearing ladies tights!
Taking back your power…
Auntie EM finally found her true power- and a new found respect at the late age of 68. And a whole new life unravelled for her. More of which I will expose in this blog.
It’s fair to say that my mother, especially for a woman of her particular generation, was rather unconventional and daring. Her actions, and the skills she taught me; no matter how dim some may view them; courageous and brave, actually saved my Auntie from homelessness and bankruptcy and allowed her to start a new life and with a new found empowerment. The apple does not always fall far from the tree.
All of this of course took place in my former life. You could look at my mother, my aunt or I and never believe in a million years that we were Dominatrix’s. A bit like the part time crossdresser or the respectable family man who sexually falls apart at the sight of a woman in thigh high boots, or the horny MP who gets his kicks being tied to a four poster bed by a beautiful goddess like figure. To say I was given a good education is most likely correct. I’ve dealt with and learnt about sexual fantasies for most of my life and had a fascinating insight into the male psyche.
Who said you can’t teach an old girl new tricks?
