| Kinky sex isn't all that shocking these days. From the much-drooled-over Style magazine photo shoot of Madonna in dark equestrian dressage, to the number of hip sex boutiques dotting Calgary's hot shopping neighbourhoods, kink is indeed a hot topic. Still, there's much misunderstanding and fascination over the substantial history, practices and subculture of kink. The mystique of what actually happens in a dungeon and what motivates people who seek out sadomasochistic experiences is still relatively uncharted territory.
Concertina: The Life and Loves of a Dominatrix (Simon & Schuster, 320 pp.) is Susan Winemaker's memoir of this private world, drawn from her experiences as the high-paid professional dominatrix, Anna. While Concertina doles out ample description of S & M techniques and scenes, the book is neither an instruction manual nor an erotic novel. Yes, she cuts right to the chase with a frank opening chapter on how she suffocates a client safely under the folds of a black rubber tutu, but these scenes progress quickly to intricate and intelligent ruminations about life and love outside the dungeon.
Beyond Anna's work and her love affair with one of her clients, Susan also writes about moving from Canada to London, her double-life as a chef, the sensual pleasures of food and her quaint family life in the Scottish Highlands. That's part of the reason why the book is refreshing – and ultimately difficult to categorize. She combines the fascinations of kink with reflections about what it means to desire pain, playfulness and sexual domination and how these passions mingle with the supposedly banal details of eating dinner, home, relationships and work.
When I interviewed Winemaker about Concertina, I was admittedly nervous about how to launch into topics such as anal fisting, bondage and sex work, so we began with the very important topic of lunch. Winemaker sitting down to a bite of egg with hot sauce. Also on the menu was left-over quinoa and a little bit of salad with some tomato, avocado with balsamic dressing and crushed almonds.
Fast Forward: There are distinct moments in Concertina where I thought, ‘This is a story, it is imagined, or remembered elaborately,’ but funny enough, these parts were about food. In one incident, your co-worker spilled two barrels of tomato sauce, and in one particularly shocking scene your lover accidentally eats a frozen piece of chicken. Is it all in the telling/retelling?
Susan Winemaker: The book is all true. I could have written it as fiction, but the poignancy of Concertina as a work is that it is true. It’s shocking, the stories can be extreme, but real.
Concertina is a love story, and though it has the complexity of S & M play, it is a story of two people who fall in love but essentially have nothing in common – two people who take love, games, the dungeon and explore the limits. As extreme as it gets, the relationship is a metaphor for worship, pain and the contracts between a slave and mistress – the same kind of contracts that happen in marriage and relationships. Perhaps I took it to a different degree – to magnify what is true of all relationships, and true of love.
How does this carry through to food?
I've always applied my sensuality to food. Not everyone understands the dungeon, but by drawing that comparison, we're really talking about taste, extremes of taste, art, sensuality and levels of intensity. This serves a purpose to get people to relate.
The book discusses the private desires of your clients, stories that they might not tell anyone else.
That is one of the most wonderful things about the work. People come to you and they're vulnerable. When there is trust, they are able to share that with someone else. It involves a very real influx of trust and there is only one hour. It taught me to be more empathetic.
Were you conscious of how the book might be taken to "represent" the profession, kink/BDSM community or lifestyle?
I was conscious of wanting to show an honest and un-judgmental picture of very normal people doing strange things. Everyone reads (about sex) with their own psychosexual baggage. I hoped that people would engage and see that the world is not necessarily what they thought it was.
I was able to have one foot inside and one foot outside. I guess it is the voice of a spy – being immersed enough to write about it and compare these two worlds. We aren't ever just one role – each one of us lives through many (integrated) lives.
You're now working on a new book, but will you work as a dominatrix again?
No. For a couple reasons – you can't just turn on and off. It's a job, and to do it well requires energy and planning. I want to move on and work on writing. Its obvious that you will find stories inside the dungeon – the challenge is to find them outside, on the subway or in the kitchen. They're there too. |
Copyright ©2007 FFWD. All rights reserved.