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The Secrets We Keep

Updated: Apr 28

How well do you know your dominatrixes in your life? Many may know me as a perverse deviant honed in the art of fear and discipline; Mistress Wei a sensual dominatrix skilled at experimentalism, and Mistress Vera as a fit and bratty seductress - but take a moment to ponder, how well do you know them?


Have you caught a glimpse of your life's greatest idol, a dominatrix, someone you kept in awe on a pedestal, polished and perfect; actually in their lowest points in life, a forlorn figure draped in the shadows? When words fall short only to be replaced by dark silence - silence which said everything, but had none of the answers she was looking for?


The world would be a better place if we stopped making strangers out of dominatrixes, shrouded in a veil of almightiness on a god-like pedestal; famed for their skills, their leather outfits and riding crops. And we end up knowing them more through their polished websites and socials and fleeting sessions; and not the secrets they live in, hurt in, and themselves included.


The empty house I grew up in

In the 2000s, I looked forward to the morning cartoons while filling up on takeaway lunch sitting in the microwave bought by my mother, ready to be heated up when I felt hungry. Home cooked lunches were a rare sight, especially when my career-driven parents left me alone at home with my elder sister, and The Legend of Zelda on my Gameboy as a babysitter. I didn't know a parental figure and comfort, only to find them in the plushies sitting on my bed. Turning nineteen was when I first stumbled upon kink, in the deviant platform of Collarspace. A platform shrouded in its anonymity of profiles, unvouched for and unverified by the community. I sought a daddy figure, only to find a semblance of what I thought I was seeking in a 50-year-old male dominant, who saw me more as a doll with a receptive mind, ready for programming and grooming. I was cajoled and sometimes coerced into performative kinks. Afraid, I disappeared back into an empty house of blank walls, my familiarity of loneliness and nothingness.


Moving into adulthood, I found love in a girl whom I pledged to love with every ounce of my heart, even if love gave me nothing in return. She left, plunging me painting the future black if my future needed a colour. In lieu of birthday candles, I cut myself twenty-three times on my twenty-third birthday to proof that I could still feel. To feel pain, to feel that my sanity existed, to feel that I mattered.


My friends said I disappeared into cynicism in my dystopian mind chamber. I buried myself into sixteen-hour work cycles - ten hours of agency work in the day, followed by six hours of startup life at the night. I worked, to feel that I meant something to someone, to feel that I existed.


I turned to Seeking Arrangement trying to find a connection; but all I got was animalistic physical interface and filth in the pit I dug for myself. I cut myself to bleed, because pain was the one thing constant I could depend on myself to do.


The cocoon I wove

The truth is, I needed to put my sorrows elsewhere. Years of communications work honed my highly analytical and functional mind. I recalibrated myself towards my work, I talked to people, I listened. Solutions sometimes never mattered - but to empathise, did.

In the Halloween of 2019, I flipped to become a dominatrix. I walked the grounds of our experiences together with my subs. I listened. I used kink to get subs to talk about themselves. Although I experienced moments that returned me to useless and dreaded nostalgia of my abusive submissive days, I realised and wanted to show that I wanted to know them the way that few people tried and wanted to know me. When I cradled and held them in my arms, I realised how much they craved a human connection - to connect, to be known, to be understood and to be loved - as much as I wanted to growing up.


Through my shared journeys with them, I realised how much time I spent alone in my empty house, how much silence the language with which I spoke and the monologues I had in my mind, in search for someone who wanted me.


In life, we see so much wandering souls filled with grief, hatred, resentment and sorrow; but it takes a strong faith to hope, and to believe there is something good out there and to endeavour finding it.


The world would be a better place if we stopped making strangers out of dominatrixes; to know them, to listen to them, and to help break them out of their secrets they live in, so that it would hurt less.


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More about our professional ethics as a professional dominatrix: here

About Goddess Ashley: here




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