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How I startednI suppose I was born with the fetish gene. As a child I was fascinated with handcuffs and bondage. I can’t remember my dad, he died when I was three. I asked Mother about him when I was 16 and Mother sat me down and told me my father had been a successful Hollywood lawyer and a mean drunk. "He was 40 and I was not quite 19 when he hired me as one of his secretarial staff. We'd dated a few times when one night he forced himself on me. I thought we were having a bit of aggressive foreplay – he held me hard by the throat and took me. It might have been rape but he said I'd invited it and I guess he was right. I got pregnant with you and two months later I found myself married. He was drunk one night and drove his car off a cliff on Mulholland. His life insurance paid off this house. The rest of his estate has allowed us to keep it." nMother and I lived in a large 4-bedroom house in Pasadena. The lot went all the way back to the next street and behind our house was a 5-room guest house. An eight-foot rock wall enclosed the front yard. The rest of the property line was surrounded by thick thorn shrubs. An electric steel gate guarded the driveway entrance at the guest house. n A few weeks later Mom said she was going shopping and would be home by dinner. I got out my tote bag containing my kinky stuff and planned a leisurely self-gratification session. I put on a long-sleeve black shirt and dark thigh-high stockings and white frilly sissy-socks. I pulled on a short blonde wig and locked on a clear plastic chastity cage. Getting the tube over my growing hard-on was painful, but that was part of my submissive, slave fantasy. n I'd found some plastic storage tubs of fetish porn magazines under Mother's bed. I didn't understand why she'd kept dad's porn but I'd jerked off to it every day, sometimes two or three times a day. Today I had old magazines from the 60s to 80s; for some reason they seemed more authentic and exciting than modern, slick internet porn. I buckled the ankle straps on my size 10, high-heel strappy sandals and lie down to read ENSLAVED magazine, hoping I could resist getting the key and relieving myself for half an hour. n I'd put on some music and Mother must have been wearing flats because the first thing I heard was a quick tap on my door before it opened. "I'm back early Bobby…"n "Jesus Mother! Get out! …please."n Instead she closed the door and locked it and sat down beside me on the bed. I'd turned away in my embarrassment.n She was quiet for a moment before she spoke. Her voice was low, gentle. "I owe you an apology Bob. We should have had this conversation before now."n "We had 'The Talk' two years ago Mother. Can you please leave so I can change?"n She stood and said, "OK, join me in the den. Wear a blazer and good slacks. We're going somewhere decent for dinner and I want to go early. I have a client at 8:00." She picked up the chastity key and almost skipped out of my room. I could hear her laughing happily as she went down the hall. ….n "Would you like a beer?"n "What?" n "You're mature enough to have one drink at home, with me, not alone."n "May I have one of those?" She was drinking red wine.n "I was laughing upstairs because I hate being dishonest. You know what I do for a living don't you son?"n "I didn't much think we could afford to stay in Pasadena if you were a massage therapist." I paused, "I think I know Mother."n "Have you been in the guest house?"n I shook my head, "No, you have good locks out there."n "It's my 'play space. I'm a professional dominatrix. You found my magazines – I thought you knew."n I finally looked at her, "Yes Ma'am, I knew."n "That's why I'm so happy. I swear I'd planned to have an honest talk with you soon."n My eyes watered and I turned away and drank. "So my mother sees me like … that … upstairs. Jesus Mother."n She walked to me and held me for long moment and said, "Bob, you're not a freak, or crazy. Your fantasies are both common and well within the realm of normal. I've had clients who came to me just to talk. They tell me their fantasies and invariably ask me if I think they're a 'freak.' We spend the session talking."n "So you're also a sort of therapist?"n "No, I'm not qualified or licensed. I don't charge for an initial talk session. If they want more talk I refer them to a therapist. If they want to try on their fantasy they can make an appointment. I'm an ethical dominatrix, meaning I don't facilitate sex, or steal from them."n "What do you mean 'facilitate' sex?" n "I don't get them off. No intercourse, no oral, no hand-jobs."n "So they go away with blue balls?"n "Watch your language or I'll slap your face."n I blurted, "Oh God, yes."n Mother smiled and nodded and said, "I'll file that tidbit away. Finishing a submissive session without relief is sometimes a client's fantasy. Usually they chose to masturbate."n "I … ugh… , never mind."n "Yes," she said, anticipating my question, "I let them cum on my shoes, or feet or boots. Not my body. And yes, I 'make' them (she indicated air quotes) lick it up, -if I know they want it.. 'Look at that mess! Lick off every drop. Those boots better shine like new or I'll get my crop."n I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.n "See Bobby, it's not everyone's fantasy, but licking cum fantasy is as common as grass, so you're not weird. Just relax."n "I have a million questions, but with my mother…" n "Could you talk to Aunt Rachael?"n "She's a domme too?"n "She's in the scene, as we say. Not professionally, but in her private life. She helped me get started." She looked at her watch and said, "Get your tablet let's go."n ….n "Bobby, if I can glance at your fetish photos, they can tell me more than some hours of conversation." I handed it over and said, "Better than talking about kinky sex with my mom." She opened a folder "Favorites #1, Older) and spent two or three minutes flipping through them. She turned the tablet off and handed it back. n "I won't make you talk about this if it's too uncomfortable."n I said, "Do you ever play submissive?"n She waved me off, "Oh no, sharing intimate details has to go both ways."n "OK, fair enough. What can you say about my kinks from seeing my pictures?"n "There's nothing unusual, or dangerous. The only question I have is what attracts you to the old pictures?"n "I suppose they look more real. Most of the modern stuff looks more Hollywood than real."n She nodded, "I can give you some working names of women who live the same lifestyle as the movies they make, if you want to see their videos.—n "So why do they put their bodies out there to be jerk-off material?"n "Everyone has to make a living son. I'm not embarrassed by what I do and they're not either. I'm not a hooker. Having sex on camera would be too far for me but I don't condemn them."n "Have you ever done an S
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