By Dominatrix Mistress Claudia Sky
You found this page because you typed something into Google that you wouldn’t necessarily say out loud. Maybe at midnight. Maybe in a private browser.
That’s fine. You’re in good company — rather more of it than you’d imagine.
In 1973 Nancy Friday published My Secret Garden — a book in which she simply asked women to share their sexual fantasies anonymously. The media greeted it with outrage. It sold over two million copies. The scandal, it turned out, was not the content. It was the revelation that desire was not a male thing. It was a human thing. That it existed in everyone, quietly, waiting for a space in which it could be acknowledged.
Fifty years later the same shame still attaches itself to desire — just directed at different people, in different private browsers. The men who Google these questions at midnight are doing exactly what Friday’s correspondents did: looking for the relief of honesty without consequences.
Before we get to your questions, here’s one fact worth sitting with. A systematic review of 60 peer-reviewed studies, published by researchers at King’s College London, found that between 40% and 70% of adults have BDSM-related fantasies. That is not a fringe interest. That is most of the room at any dinner party you have ever attended.
You are not strange. You are statistically normal. Now — your questions.
Is seeing a dominatrix cheating?
This is the one that keeps more men from picking up the phone than any other.
The honest answer is: it depends entirely on the agreements in your relationship, and it’s a question only you and your partner can ultimately answer. What I can tell you is what a session with a professional dominatrix actually involves — because the reality is usually very different from what people imagine.
A professional dominatrix does not have sex with clients. There is no intercourse, no sexual services. What happens in session is power exchange — psychological, physical, emotional — conducted within negotiated boundaries. It is intimate. It can be profound. But it is categorically different from an affair.
I’m not a counsellor, and I’m not going to tell anyone that secrecy in a relationship is a good thing — it isn’t. But I will say this honestly: many clients treasure a session precisely because it offers something rare — a space to be completely truthful about who they are and what they need, without fear of damaging the people they love. The only judgement available in that room is their own. And that kind of honest self-reckoning, research suggests, is genuinely good for you.
A large-scale study published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine found that BDSM practitioners reported significantly lower levels of psychological distress than the general population, and greater overall life satisfaction. Sexual expression is not a male impulse or a female impulse. It is a human one. And humans who find a safe, honest space for it tend to be healthier for it.
Will she laugh at my kinks?
No. And I say that not to be reassuring, but because it’s simply true.
After 25 years in the kink community I have encountered desires, fantasies and requests that span the full range of human imagination. I have not once thought less of the person in front of me for having them.
The fear of being laughed at — of being seen as ridiculous, pathetic, perverted — is one of the most common things that stops men from ever making a first enquiry. It is almost always unfounded. Your kink is almost certainly not as unusual as you think it is.
The only thing that would give me pause is poor manners. That I have less patience for.
What if my kinks are too weird?
See above — but let’s go further.
BDSM was only removed from the psychiatric diagnostic manual in 2013. Not because attitudes softened, but because the evidence simply didn’t support treating it as a disorder. The shame attached to kink is a cultural hangover, not a clinical verdict.
A large Belgian population study found nearly half of all respondents had tried at least one BDSM-related activity. Sixty-five percent of men report having fantasised about being dominated. The thing you’ve been quietly carrying is something millions of people carry alongside you, in silence, for no good reason.
The conversation before a session — where we discuss what you want, what you need, what’s off the table — is handled with complete discretion and without judgement. That is not a service feature. It is basic respect.
Am I too old?
Absolutely not.
I see clients across a wide age range, and some of the most interesting sessions I have are with men who have carried a desire quietly for decades and are finally, at 55 or 65 or older, doing something about it.
There is something specific that happens when someone acts on a long-held fantasy after years of suppression. A relief. An unexpected lightness. It is one of the things I find most rewarding about this work.
You are not too old. You are, if anything, overdue.
Am I too fat / not attractive enough?
Your body is not what I’m interested in. What I’m interested in is your behaviour, your manners, your capacity to surrender, and your willingness to be honest about what you need.
A session is not an audition. You are not being assessed for attractiveness. The dynamic runs entirely the other way — and physical appearance has nothing to do with your ability to surrender control.
Will anyone find out?
Discretion is not a courtesy I offer — it is a professional standard I operate by. I don’t discuss clients, I don’t keep unnecessary records, and I don’t create situations where you could be identified.
Sessions take place in private, discreet locations. I screen clients carefully — which protects both of us.
What actually happens in a session?
Less dungeons-and-screaming than you’re probably imagining, and more conversation than you might expect.
Before we meet, we discuss what you’re interested in, what your limits are, and what you’re hoping to get from the session. This is not a perfunctory form-filling exercise — it is where I begin to understand what you actually need, which is sometimes different from what you think you want.
The session itself is led entirely by me. You don’t need to perform, script or choreograph anything. Your job is to show up, behave, and surrender control. Mine is to know what to do with it.
Aftercare is part of every session — time to return to yourself, to be held in the space, to leave in good order. It is not an afterthought.
I’m nervous. Is that normal?
Completely. Almost everyone is nervous before a first session. The anticipation, the vulnerability, the not-quite-knowing — that’s entirely normal and nothing to be embarrassed about.
What I’d ask is that you channel it into honest communication when you enquire. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you’re nervous about. Tell me what you’re hoping for and what you’re uncertain of. That information doesn’t make you seem weak — it makes the session better for both of us.
The door is open. The rest is just picking up the phone.