Excitement fluttered in my stomach as I typed out an Instagram post on my phone.
If you fancy being submissive and living by my rules as an assistant, enquire within, I wrote.
Hitting post, I was curious to see the responses, though I wasn’t expecting anyone serious to reply.
It was February 2025 and I’d been working in the adult entertainment industry for years.
I was often cast in submissive roles, but lately, the idea of being a dominant intrigued me.
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I imagined it would feel empowering, while giving me a sense of structure and control.
At 187cm, I towered over most people anyway, so I felt I’d fall into it quite naturally.
Not long after posting, my phone lit up with a DM from someone in the sex worker community.
I have a submissive who helps around the house, they wrote. But my new partner isn’t comfortable with the arrangement anymore.
I agreed they could share my number with the man, Bradley, 37, and he soon messaged.
Over the next couple of months, we texted and called regularly before finally agreeing to meet in person at my home in Brisbane.
I wanted to make sure he was genuine before allowing him into my world.
Face to face, we chatted about dom and sub dynamics. It felt oddly similar to conducting a job interview.
“I’ve always had a submissive personality,” he explained. “After researching sub culture online, I started seeking connections with doms.”
“What do you enjoy most about it?” I asked.
“It’s almost like an out-of-body experience. I feel completely present and calm,” he said.
Bradley had driven more than an hour to my place and, after talking for a while, I decided I wanted to see how we worked together in practice.
“Let’s see how you go,” I said, smiling.
I asked him to do my laundry, clean up after my eight cats, walk my two dogs, tidy the bird aviary and bring me drinks.
He completed every task quietly and happily, without complaint.
“I think this could work,” I told him afterwards. “But I want clear boundaries, consent and a contract.”
Over the next hour, we talked everything through and drafted up an agreement together.
We decided I’d pay Bradley $1100 a week for his services.
Since entering the adult entertainment industry, I’d earned around $6 million overall and now made roughly $40,000 a month, so I could afford it.
Though it was obvious Bradley’s motivation went far beyond money.
I also gave him a collar that could only be removed with a special key, along with a dog tag matching my pets’ collars.
To anyone else, it simply looked like a silver necklace, meaning he could wear it every day.
Dominatrix rules
Communication quickly became the foundation of our dynamic.
We established boundaries, regular check-ins and a safe word – meatloaf – in case Bradley ever wanted things to stop immediately.
From then on, Bradley would finish his construction job before driving to my house, completing chores and waiting for me to inspect them.
If things weren’t up to standard, there were consequences.
One day, I noticed groceries and cat food sitting on the kitchen bench.
“Bradley,” I said sharply, “what’s my rule about the bench?”
“Always keep it clean, Miss,” he replied quietly.
I crossed my arms.
“Those who don’t follow the rules get punished,” I scolded.
That day, I made him write lines repeating: I will keep the bench clean.
Other punishments included spanking him with a paddle, making him spend time with his mum or writing positive affirmations about himself – his least favourite punishment of all.
Once his chores were finished, Bradley was free to relax, usually by settling in with video games.
After about a month of making the long drive to my place every day, I eventually asked if he wanted to move in.
Without hesitation, he said yes.
Bradley had been living in a share house over an hour away, with most of his allowance going towards rent. Moving in meant he could finally spend that money on himself instead.
Rather than sleeping in a traditional bed, Bradley requested a dog bed inside a cage, which I bought for him.
Surprisingly, the transition felt completely natural.
We respected each other’s space and routines, and quickly settled into a rhythm together.
Then one day, Bradley approached me with a request.
“I want to show my devotion to you,” he said. “I want to get a tattoo.”
“I’d love that,” I replied, “but only if it’s truly what you want.”
His face lit up instantly.
“It is,” he grinned.
So we headed to a tattoo studio where Bradley had four words tattooed on his leg: Property of Sarah Button.
As time passed, I eventually explained our dynamic to my family. Before that, I’d simply told them Bradley was my assistant.
“Bradley is actually my submissive and I’m his dom,” I explained.
Though they were shocked, they were accepting. He even started driving Nan to appointments, though she still believes he’s my assistant.
By mid-2025, I began sharing more of our lifestyle online through my Instagram account, @talltattedgirl, hoping to educate people about consensual power exchange relationships.
The reactions were mixed.
Bradley, blink twice if you need help, one person commented.
He looks terrified, wrote another.
We just laughed. Bradley is exactly where he wants to be.
While his family and friends were initially shocked, they eventually became supportive once they saw how happy he was.
“We’re both consenting adults,” Bradley laughed. “Why would I agree to any of this if it wasn’t what I wanted?”
For every negative comment, there was also support.
Power to them, one follower wrote.
This is such a healthy way to explore the dynamic, said another.
Though there are sexual elements to our relationship, it isn’t centred around that.
It’s built on power exchange, trust and consent.
People can laugh all they want, but at the end of the day, we’ve created a life that genuinely makes us both happy.
The day might come when we both enter relationships, but we would need our future partners to understand the dynamic.
Should that ever arise, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.
