How did I "become" a dominatrix? That's one of the questions I get asked most often. And the answer is perhaps simpler – and more uncomfortable – than it seems: I didn't become one. I stopped hiding it. For as long as I can remember, I've had a need to lead, provoke, test limits, occupy space. And when I was younger, it had another name. I was the rebellious girl. The difficult one. The one who needed discipline. I was raised within quite rigid religious precepts, learning from an early age what it meant to be a "good woman": taking care of the house, having children, making a good marriage, being a good wife. So I learned to perform exactly the opposite of what I felt. In relationships, I pretended to be passive, docile, submissive. But there was an irony in all of this: even when I occupied the place of the one who obeyed, I found ways to steer everything where I wanted. I didn't yet know the word for it. In 2020, I was hired to do marketing consulting for a dominatrix who worked abroad. There's a funny thing about working in marketing: before you can sell anything, you need to deeply understand everything involved in the subject. So I went to study the client's world. And that's when it happened. I discovered BDSM. Or maybe I discovered a language that finally made sense for things that already existed within me. Once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it. I started studying obsessively: books, courses, scientific articles, accounts, history, psychology, practices, dynamics… I wanted to understand everything. It took me about a year to finally have the courage to experience my first kink encounter. At that time, there was no money involved. There was curiosity. Desire. And an almost desperate urge to experience what I felt I had spent my whole life repressing. The BDSM scene in my city was – and still is – small. Sometimes I had to travel to another state to find people willing to share those experiences with me. And no, it wasn't all wonderful. I had bad experiences. I met men who desired the fantasy of surrendering, but who couldn't really sustain a power dynamic. And that forced me to learn something important: not every man who wants to submit is prepared to surrender. For a long time, I had to be careful that these experiences didn't contaminate the way I viewed BDSM. Because, despite everything, one thing remained: I had never felt so free to be myself. I began to see BDSM as an erotic art. A language. A form of expression. A way to explore power, desire, identity, and vulnerability. Until, at the end of last year, while I was still working in marketing and going through a burnout crisis, something finally became obvious. I was tired of giving my time to people who didn't value it. And I thought: if we live in a society where time is money, why did I continue to allow them to treat mine as if it were worthless? I had already studied. I had already experimented. I already had a repertoire. I already had experience. So I started charging for my sessions. I didn't become a dominatrix, I just discovered that that woman had always been there. The difference is that now she's no longer trying to be a good girl.