Being a Porn Star for Mistress



'What’s it like to date a rich, intelligent, porn star?’ asks hardly anyone. Lying on my bathroom floor, naked under a thin sheet, a camera pointed my way, my girlfriend squatting inches from my nose to waterboard me with her very own ”Mistress champagne”,  let me tell you: different. And scary. And brilliant.

I’m pretty proud of my woman and have informed - well, boasted - to selected and trusted friends all about my marvellous new girl and her unconventional career. They assume I have lost my marbles and wish me luck, assuring me it will end in tragedy....before asking to see the photographs.

Life changed rather dramatically after I was introduced to the international dominatrix, Clara Matthews. The hand of fate had not just come to rest upon my shoulder. It had playfully but firmly smacked me on the backside.

In the BC or Before Clara era, my weekends had been peaceful, even dull.  A visit to Primark was a regular highlight. In my new world Saturday afternoons are filled with tiddly women chasing each other around my living room in various states of undress.  It can be days before I find all the lost underwear and shoes. Seriously, I was on the sofa once watching the news when I noticed a discarded stocking hanging from the lamp.  And that was Wednesday evening.

A little context may help here. This wasn't planned. There were forks in the road where, I admit, I had chosen the more adventurous path, but I didn't set out to date a porn star: there was no plan or intent. Clara had caught my eye a few times when our paths had crossed socially. Tall, slim, pert, notably good posture; entertaining, intelligent, and…there was something else, something less tangible.  There was a formal introduction by a matchmaking mutual friend who insisted we talked to each other on messenger. Prior to the commencement of wooing, I was briefed on Clara's mysterious background, her profession as a model and kinky sex worker. It was spoken of as a job. Though it sounded a pretty damned fun one.  

There is a popular misapprehension that the life of a sex worker is a miserable, twilight existence of self-loathing and the lot of their partners is doubly so. Er, no. Clara loves her life and now eagerly shares her professional side with me. We have developed a romance where I am part of the business. I am content creator and she is the content. 


The information wasn't given too much consideration when weighing up whether to engage romantically. My horror-show relationship backstory began when the woman I was engaged to at nineteen attempted to run me over in a Vauxhall Viva outside Tesco.  Things haven't really improved much, and I didn't fancy my chances against a more agile, modern car. Well, not at my age.  

Things progressed as per the script, with copious messaging that quickly lurched from polite enquiries as to how the day was progressing to hardcore filth and how we could re-enact our favourite Pornhub scene when alone.  It was standard operating procedure for modern dating, apart from Clara's constant desire to whack me on the backside with increasingly painful implements. I admit, it took a little while to work out the attraction. However, it is an endeavour worth persevering with and pursuing. Rather like one of those magic eye pictures from the nineties, you relax into it and it all becomes clear.

The moment it really struck me that life had changed was three months in, when my home was turned into a film set. The production co-starred our matchmaker as a maiden aunt who had to whack her niece, my girlfriend, on the backside with a slipper. Somehow I’d become a cameraman, director and actor overnight.  In the closing scene I was tied to a chair with someone’s knickers shoved into my mouth while I strained at the ropes to see if the top of my head was still in shot.. We made about £20 each out of it for ten hours work, and laughed ourselves hoarse. Have a nose at it here: https://www.clips4sale.com/studio/55405/22714595/the-angry-aunt

Many people gladly pay handsomely for an hour or two of exclusive access to Clara. Being a dominatrix and fetish model means spending hours alone naked or semi naked with strangers, or conversely being in cardigans and pearls while the strangers dress in nappies, schoolgirl outfits or rubber boots, straitjackets and gimp masks. There is a waiting list of men, and increasingly often women, seeking my partner’s company.  Each day brings hundreds of likes and flirty comments, emails and messages, offers of new opportunities for photoshoots and videos, promises of money, fame, sexual adventures and love. 


By Rich Millner


Read the full story in our latest issue, Darkside 26: https://joom.ag/jWxC

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