Sherry Lever, 67, shares her unconventional real life story;
I poured myself a glass of wine and slumped onto the sofa.
I was tired after a long shift at work.
Life had been tough of late.
My marriage of 25 years had fallen apart and money was tight.
It left my confidence at rock bottom.
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Sighing dejectedly as I flicked through the TV channels, I stopped on a documentary about phone sex workers.
As I watched, it sparked an interest in me.
The woman explained that they didn’t have to do anything sleazy.
And the money they earned was certainly a fair share greater than my chef’s salary.
I wonder… I thought.
A few days later, I tracked down the woman from the show and asked if she could give me the low-down.
“It’s easy,” she replied. “It’s just a bit of voice acting, really.”
Me at age 40.
I’d done amateur dramatics in the past.
But could I use my voice to turn men on?
At my age, it felt like a crazy idea but I was determined to try it.
I found a company and applied to be one of their phone workers.
They trained me over the phone in a matter of hours.
When I booked my first client, I was a bag of nerves.
I downed a few glasses of wine for courage, took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
“Hello there,” I said, seductively.
I started off using a script but soon enough I was improvising.
To my amazement I found it so much fun! So I took on more callers.
One minute, I was pretending to be a young, sexy secretary, the next a granny in her 80s.
I’d play whatever the punters wanted.
Me and my daughter Amy.
Soon it became so natural, I was talking dirty into the phone while putting on a load of washing.
I’d never have imagined doing any kind of sex work previously.
The missionary position was about as exciting as it had got in my marriage.
Clients kept asking me to meet them but I firmly refused.
Then, I was made redundant from my chef job and desperately needed the money.
So when one bloke begged to come round and role play in the flesh, I agreed.
He was a regular and we’d built up a rapport.
Still, I was nervous.
Some of the men prefer role playing.
When I opened the door and found a middle-aged man in a suit on my doorstep, I relaxed a bit.
He took me out for dinner and then when we got back to mine, he explained what he was after.
“I want to get dressed in a maid’s outfit,” he said.
“You want me in a maid’s outfit?” I asked.
“No, me,” he explained. “I want to be your slave.”
He squeezed into a pink and white French maid’s outfit that he’d brought with him.
Then I locked him in my spare room.
Just like Sherry’s unconventional clients, not all intimate exchanges involve sex! The Take 5 team spoke to a couple who LOVE their sexless relationship.
Listen below!
STORY CONTINUES AFTER PODCAST.
When I let him out, I whipped his backside and demanded he clean my kitchen.
“Yes, mistress,” he replied. He mopped while I barked orders at him.
“You’ve missed a spot,” I shrilled, smacking his bottom again.
Thwack!
Two hours later, he paid me $880 and went home.
It was so much money for doing very little.
I couldn’t believe it – and my kitchen was spotless too!
I love my life.
That night, I told my daughter Amy, 23, what I’d done.
“I’m going to be a professional dominatrix,” I said.
I was worried she’d be horrified but she burst out laughing.
“Go for it, Mum,” she said.
My other two kids were supportive too.
I created my alter ego, Mistress Sophia, and advertised my services online, charging $220 an hour.
I immediately started getting messages from men asking when they could come over.
I took bookings and hastily went shopping for the tools of my trade – whips, gimp masks, gags, blindfolds and various outfits.
I spent a few hundred dollars.
When I got home, I turned one of my loungerooms into a sex dungeon.
In no time, I was acting out being a headmistress or bossing about submissives.
“I’ve got a cage under the bed now to lock my slaves in,” I giggled to Amy.
I’d lock men in there for hours.
I transformed my spare room into my dungeon.
My clients ranged from 19 to 84-year-olds.
Most are professionals who just want to let off steam, like barristers, surgeons or teachers.
I’ve now amassed a collection of dominatrix paraphernalia worth around $17,000! I watch my diet and get a bit of Botox so I look good for my clients.
Some of them are married but I don’t feel bad because we don’t have sex.
They don’t touch me – well, except my feet if they’ve come for foot worshipping.
Recently, I walked a man to the park with him in a doggy mask and latex bodysuit.
He was on all fours with a lead around his neck.
I threw a ball for him to fetch.
It was during school hours so there were no kids around, but people did give him funny looks, which turned him on.
Amy and her partner are living with me now.
0They work during the day, but once they came home early and saw a man on his knees dusting.
They burst out laughing and bolted upstairs.
Some clients like to be punished.
“Don’t apologise,” he insisted. “It’s the kind of embarrassment I love.”
I’m often asked whether I’ve been tempted into anything sexual with these men, but I never have.
Being a dominatrix has made it difficult to date. I tell men about my job, as I need a man who accepts it, but that’s been hard to find.
Thankfully, my family and friends have all been supportive.
And my neighbours know, too.
1It’s a strange pastime for someone my age – a grandmother, no less – but I’m my own boss, I work from home, earn enough to live comfortably and I’m a lot happier than many other women my age.
In my 40’s, I was frumpy and miserable.
Now, I feel great.
My job as a dominatrix has given me a new lease on life.
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