The telling. A night with an FSSW.

In the end, I did it.  I spent a blissful evening with a Full Service Sex Worker.  The experience was truly delicious.  Learning is a turn-on, but what I did learn, I never expected.

I “chose” her for her politics.  Some of her marketing is overtly about female empowerment, which no reader of this blog won’t know resonates with me. But choice? I begin to wonder increasingly about whether I really have conscious agency in these matters, so powerful are the strings of fate, etheric chords that surround us and connect us. Mistress and I speak of this often, not least because of the non-stop string of coincidences that increasingly govern my daily life.

The night before, I dined with a very powerful woman along with other friends (one of NY’s power women), who is also a witch—I was introduced to her at a dinner party as a witch, and she said, “me too,” and smiled at me with the confident power of one who is beyond comfortable in her skin, her position, her world.  I find such women deeply inspiring.  It was a women’s evening, but in the end, of all the people there, I am the only one she didn’t hug.  This puzzled me as I had cooked for her, indeed, for all of them, as an occasion for a group of influential and powerful women to come together, make professional connections.  ‘Twas not a case of of “thou shalt not mingle with the help,” but there was something about her energy or my energy that made her not hug me as we all said goodbye to one another.  I bring this woman up as over dinner we discussed this concept of the people who come into our lives, and she agreed with me that nobody is an accident.  We are meant to learn from everyone, there is meaning all around us, especially when we follow our intuition.

It takes conscious will to follow our intuition, active work to silence the rational mind, to hone it as an instrument, to feel takes practice.  We discussed this too, and the steps we must take to do so.  Diet is critical.  So too is exercise.  Not drinking.  Avoiding sugar.  Being comfortably numb is the dull state into which we are lulled as human participants in society, the patriarchy requires it.  I fight back by refusing to participate.  I will not be entertained.  I no longer watch television or consume pop culture of any kind.  There is no time.  We have work to do, things to make, things to produce.

Legacy is the essence of midlife crisis.   When given a voice, the roar that comes out is one of meaning.  For most this might be a squeak that says, “I matter.”  That is not what I feel.  Instead, I am drawn to the politics of gender.

An Assignation with an FSSW

Any red-blooded man would likely say that such an experience is wasted on me.  After all, I can’t “get it up.”  In fact, I can’t even “have sex”, and isn’t that the whole point of seeing a full-service sex worker?  Well, gosh, what is sex?  Indeed, shortly after, I was engaged in a lively debate with two men about whether sex can even exist without penetration.  Yes, there are still people who think that way.

My belief is that most men who seek out a companion go for a sex act.  I don’t know this for a fact, that is simply a guess.  On the face of it, a man going to see an FSSW for heteronormative sex might seem patriarchy reinforcing, but in truth, it is one of the most transgressive acts that a man can do. For he is celebrating her agency, and this is exactly what the patriarch seeks to subjugate and control. Yes, there are men who seek to “break the rules” and SWs face a level of risk and potential for violence which can be triggered by this very energy. But the industry exists and is the world’s oldest profession quite simply because female power is closer to the truth than all the crazy cultural packaging the patriarchy has constructed to hide that fundamental truth. The female is closer to the divine, and that bugs some men something fierce. I am probably an outlier in wanting to spend time getting to know someone, feeling their energy, wanting to talk, to bond, before even contemplating touching.  And yet, what else is there?  The mechanics of release seem so not the point.

When I first went to see a dominatrix, I was immensely reassured by the long list of kinks she practiced and found greatest reassurance of all in the areas that were well beyond anything that I would ever want to do (though I must say never say never, as judging negates ourselves too).  The Mistresses I have seen all play with kinks that give enough space in the dynamic to ensure that fear of judgement can be parked outside.  [Ironically, with my first Domme, in the end she did judge me, but not in ways that had anything to do with sexuality, and that observation lies at the heart of our eventual incompatibility].

The FSSW offers the same wide open space—perhaps the landscape differs, but the idea is the same.  Her experience with physical contact, touch, and what must be a broad range of intimate sexual experiences meant that it would be safe to be with her and to explore touch.  When we first entered contact with one another, I explained my desire to see her.  That my body was changing, that I wasn’t sure what it meant for me, and that I was curious to be taught, re-taught, how to be with a woman as a trans-woman, as this trans-woman.

In a way, I felt as if this was asking too much.  To imagine that as a client one might be permitted to consider how to give pleasure, not just to receive it, must be alien, but also arrogant somehow…and yet, we must hope that such encounters, the life of an FSSW who chooses the profession, can be rich, fulfilling and rewarding.  And if not, maybe just for a moment, with one client, we can explore whether there is such a thing as balance.

When I think of just how privileged I am in life to be able to sit quietly in the presence of one of the kindest, most complex, gender-affirming, feminine, inspiring, beautiful, women in the world, and one who has so utterly mastered her own agency that watching her just be, is an inspiration, I am brought to tears. Of course, for those who know me, sitting quietly is not a skill that I have, no matter how much I love it. Thankfully, the dominant women in my life shush me. One can fantasise about being chained and collared and kneeling quietly for hours on end, but silencing the stream of wild and random and joyful thoughts that just have to trip out are another matter altogether. Zest for life must be voiced.

True Femininity

The more that I can be with the people in my life without expectation.  Just simply be, the richer my interactions with them become.  Leaving what “I want” at the door.  This is the value of BDSM for me, it is a great teacher.  Ex-Mistress became “ex” in part because I, we, failed in guiding our dynamic into this space.  How can we say that all stable D/s dynamics must go to this space?  We cannot.  Every dynamic is unique.  A state of equilibrium.  How can one create a state of equilibrium if one has to work at it?  But don’t all relationships take work?  Massive amounts?  All true statements.

I have now been with new Mistress for longer than I was with ex-Mistress.  I don’t write about our dynamic because I don’t feel I need to, don’t really want to.  I do feel in a state of equilibrium with her, however, a natural state of flow that leaves me simply content to be, to feel.

What she exudes is femininity.  Her dominance is an invitation.  Not an order.  She is herself.  On her terms.  She permits me to come and find her.  And this process, this dynamic, allows for a state of grace.  I have struggled to articulate how that works, how that can be, and yet, I find the absence of show, of kinky games, of ritual, the most powerful exertion of female domination that I have ever come across.  To make an origami out of the spiritual self and to lay it at her feet, to be inspired to do so, well, that is the essence of submission, a counterpoint to dominance.  To do so because we are inspired, not because we are commanded, means that the creative life force which feeds this soul is fully activated, whereas with my previous Mistress, it was ultimately silenced—the energy was draining not fulfilling.  In this sense, my new Queen is my muse.  And if there is one barometer for whether something is healthy and good for us or not, it is this idea that our creative energy, our excess life force is running strong, not being depleted.

We did have time to talk beforehand, and she was a great listener.  She gently coaxed some keys to my past and present and was gentle and non-judging about me being a slave, a baby (I love the gentle amusement that has played across the faces of the women I have told “I am a baby”—not judging, not indulging, just gently curious and amused), a trans-feminine person.  We spoke of spiritual matters, getting to know one another.  My newfound comfort with my body meant that to be with her was not at all nervous-making…it was possible to just be.

I did not know what it would be like to be with an FSSW.  I had mechanical questions that played in my mind.  She asked me if I had any hard limits and I answered that I would tell her if I felt uncomfortable about anything, but that humiliation was my only red zone.  She said she felt the same.  I wondered if I would be allowed to touch my lips to her body.  What kind of touch was allowed.  These thoughts were in my head, but all I had voiced was that I would be shy over our meal beforehand.

Not shy from nudity or anything else, but from new-Mistress’s words, “consent is not consent unless it is enthusiastic.  A ‘hell yes’.  Enthusiastic consent is hot.”  You don’t get enthusiastic consent by pushing.  I was dressed as a geisha, and have been reading about the mindset of a geisha, the art form of the submissive flirt, the downcast eyes, the gentle tease…I wanted to use all of it.  It is a desire to behave like a plump and juicy and fully ripe plum, just ready for the plucking.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but this was the most important lesson of all.  Simply being.

As we began to connect, I could feel my energy, its calm, gentle nature coming out.  She had said she likes it a little rough, but at least this time, I wouldn’t dare, and would only dare if taught to do so as she wished it done.  And this gentle energy found its partner in her, and together we explored each other’s bodies with sensuous touch and curious kissing, reading one another with all our senses.  

And I could feel her own energy so clearly.  I could see it coming off of her, like flames, licking and caressing all of me, mostly purple, flickers of blue, and occasional white edges.  It was a tentative energy, a whispering energy.  One that I felt was coming out only so far as she felt safe to do so.  In the moment, it was an honour to feel it, a rare treat, and one I felt was not bestowed on everyone.  In other words, she matched my tender exploration of the spiritual self with her own explorations.

An epiphany

I never expected to learn so much from my time with her.  At all.  But I stepped inside something with my eyes open that feels truly momentous.  This gentle and exploratory time together was so much more significant than learning about how to receive and give pleasure as a trans person.  In the end, it had little to do with that.  Instead, it offered a beautiful lesson of life.  

What I felt was an expression of her, her femininity, a kind of gentle curiosity.  And I felt enormous parallels between what I am learning from my Queen and from my favourite therapist.  The FSSW and the Domme are teaching me things by how they are, the therapist is asking me to see them, asking me to think about them, bringing them to life through hypnosis and therapy.  I would not be able to see this were I to approach either the FSSW or the Domme with expectation.  Instead, to simply listen and feel…even if this is no better than a blind person crawling along the floor, it is the root cause of why the experience was such bliss.

What am I talking about?  It occurs to me that what I am seeing is the Goddess herself.  We are increasingly comfortable as a society recognising and talking about Goddess energy.  There is so much reclaiming of female power as a narrative that speaks to this.  It is certain that all women have this energy at varying levels, no doubt a direct consequence of the degree to which they cultivate it.

I have written about the beauty I find in the world of Sex Work.  I do regard Sex Workers as mediums, spirit guides of sorts, speaking with the language of the erotic, a language which has the power to connect us to unconscious realms, which ultimately are closest to the divine…far from being profane, sexuality has the potential in its purest form, to bring us in touch with God.  The patriarchy has ritualised access to silence this connection, so much of sexuality, particularly male, has been “stylized” to a place that prevents the kind of deep listening I am talking about.  

Sex Workers are humans too.  A Sex Worker might be paid to perform a sex act with you.  That does not mean she shows herself to you, or that she provides this bridge to a higher plane.  I don’t even know if such a thing can be a conscious process.  But it is real.

The Goddess is there in these interactions.  She may at times be timid, or simply unwilling to come out for certain people, or in the presence of certain behaviours, expectations.  We also call this boundaries and any SW has to be really good at placing and holding their boundaries…and while being good at it is sometimes not enough, an SW that is not good at managing boundaries will likely burn out or lose clients.

I found the Goddess with this woman; I also find the Goddess with my muse.  And why is that?  Because I didn’t go looking for it.  Learning to just be, to be in sync with her energy, to find it, and to adapt to it is hot.  It is the essence of submission, that the act of submitting in itself becomes a form of empowering the partner.  When we do not take,  or seek to take, and stand naked, physically, spiritually, in front of someone, and are simply there with innocent curiosity, seeking to please, to energise, to touch, we have a chance to find this person at their very best.  This is the way to meet the Goddess.  I do know that most men would probably never even look for it, but I am not a man, and the farther I step away from my life as a man, the more I can hear it, see it, feel it, taste it, and know that what I have left behind is a barren landscape compared to this one.  There is nothing more beautiful in life that I have yet tasted of, that compares to this.

And how the Goddess chooses to show her face, is so varied, so dependent on the person, and yet she is there, always present, and she will come and find you if you are prepared to listen.  I only rarely ever got to see the Goddess with ex-Mistress, and that was absolutely my fault, not least because ex-Mistress has the Goddess so strong within her.  She also does the hard work in herself to cultivate this.  But people come into, and leave, our lives for a reason.  I learned so much from her, gained the courage to open my wings for the first time, but also know that the past is only sacred when we leave it so.

Men carry the divine too.  It is just different.  It is a different energy, and I don’t know whether it is more or less present in the male population generally, as it is not something I am looking for, nor seeking to cultivate in myself.  And forgive me if I am wrong, or listening too much to a seductive narrative in my head, but there is truth in this thought that women are spiritually closer to earth, to nature, to wildness.  Mother nature is female.  The Goddess is female.  The rhythm of life, the cycle of life, the pull of the tides, the moon is female.  

What did I find?  That in this interaction with an FSSW, the ultimate metaphor for life shone through.  We must be our best selves.  When we are completely in ourselves, in our own energy, grounded, whole, and bring that and offer it without guile or pretence to people around us, sometimes they will give of themselves too.  And when they do, when you are matching energy, you will see and feel things that you wouldn’t otherwise get to see or feel.  To be able to gently explore the erotic landscape with a great artist of the trade allows for an exploration of the ultimate expression of what our physical bodies are for.  Our physical form is not just a prison for the soul, it is the vessel through which we can experience communion with others.

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