At the emailer’s request, I have blurred the dominatrix’s face, but I can confirm she is very, very attractive (he provided the above photo of her). She has a serious Jennifer Love Hewitt thing going on, like the “Can’t Hardly Wait” Jennifer Love Hewitt who made me hit puberty a month early. The woman is fine, but she’s also apparently a dominatrix, which I find horrifying but also intriguing since I picture the women who are into that stuff as 40-somethings with saddlebags and early ’90s hairstyles. Not this one, though. She’s hot, and she’s the subject of the second Mailbag this week.
Our emailer, “John Doe,” claims he got drunk on Thursday, created an anonymous email account, then created an account on a fetish website before passing out. I guess it was just for shits and gigs? He woke up the following morning to an email from a dominatrix from Virginia who wants to turn him into her submissive pet, if he’s worthy. The email is below.
I guess I should start by saying fuck you, but I seriously don’t have time for all that.
I’m in a serious dilemma. So on Thursday I got just absolutely trashed; like I’ve still got a hangover wasted. Anyway during the course of this debauchery I created this email and also an account on some fetish dating site “bdsm.com”
Why I have no clue.
So this morning I get an email from this woman from Virginia claiming she was impressed with me and would love to make me her submissive pet. I’ll include parts of the email because it’s really long and quite frankly sick:
“I will take total control of your being and existence, as your only aim and goal in life will be to please me.”
“I am very serious about Dominating you. I think you should be mature and honest, and know how to serve and treat a Goddess like me.. I am very adventurous and experienced, and i will like to take you on a journey of a life time (long term) if you prove worthy of my Supremacy.”
And it goes on and on.
Here’s the deal though she’s EXTREMELY hot (I’ll include a picture even though I’m scared she’ll hunt me down).
So Rodge, what should I do? Delete the account and forget it ever happen? Or keep this thing going? She also wants to know more about me. She also wants me to send some pictures and fill out a questionnaire. I’m scared yet turned on at the same time.
P.S. Maybe like blur her face if you use this article for the mailbag. Or just don’t use it at all; that would probably be best.
By the way, last Thursday was Thanksgiving, you sick son of a bitch. I can picture you having a casual whiskey drink at dinner with the family and maybe playing some Monopoly and pounding beers with your brother and sister after helping Mom with the dishes. Then you and your old man watch The ‘Boys game on DVR while he pulls out the scotch. It’s 10:30 by this point and you’re so drunk, you can’t even talk. Instead of hitting the pillows to sleep it off, you let your inner freak out and see what the whole dom scene is all about on the family desktop. Come on, man. It’s Thanksgiving. Moving on…
I am a FIRM believer in the “alcohol brings out the truth” theory. Drunk words are sober thoughts, and drunk actions are the real you. Alcohol brings your guard down, eliminates your filter. An elevated BAC means you’re your freest and most honest version of yourself. When you grab your phone at 1 a.m. and fire out a text to Heather asking her to come over so you can tell her how you feel about her, that means you’re in deep with Heather, you like her a lot, and you hope that, if you play your cards right, she’ll play with your dingaling.
Obviously, John, what I’m trying to say here is that I’m not buying your story. After telling me you created a secret email account and logged onto a fetish site while piss drunk, you say, “Why I have no clue.” Well, I have a clue. You’re a closet freak. Behind your straight-laced façade is a lost soul who wants to get ball gagged, bound, covered in leather, and whipped. That’s you, John–the real you.
And you know what? That’s okay. Do you. And by “do you,” I mean take this lady up on her offer. Take a chance. Be her pet. Let her dominate you and beat the shit out of you. Have some wild, crazy, sadistic sex that I can’t quite make sense of.
And remember, if it starts to turn south, you always have a safe word.
P.S. You asked probably the most sexually unadventurous person possible. This shit terrifies me..