“They’re buying the sizzle, not the steak.”

That’s the advice I got from a friend when I was just starting out as a professional dominatrix. Clients are not just looking to be spanked; they’re looking to be spanked by a cruel, latex- or leather-clad, larger-than-life mistress.

As is the case for any performer, maintaining an all-encompassing experience requires us to be “on,” using a specific domme mind-set that sucks our clients in. But during this national crisis, being “on” comes with entirely new challenges.

“Emotional and psychological energy is in short supply for everyone these days, and I am no exception,” Lady Sophia Chase wrote on the home page of her website. Lady Sophia is a Chicago-based domme who uses her master’s degree in clinical social work in her domination practice. “I just can’t step into ‘Mistress mode’ for online sessions right now.… Instead I want to talk with you.”

Like many pro dommes, myself included, Sophia is focusing her stay-at-home energies exclusively on digital offerings such as phone and video domination sessions and subscription platforms such as AVN Stars and OnlyFans. But those who call Sophia will find themselves talking to a different domme from the one they’d meet in the dungeon, because Sophia isn’t interested in getting into character right now.

The difference may be subtle. On a recent call with a long-time client, Sophia gave instructions for how to suck her strap-on—not something that naturally excites her. “But because my client wasn’t there serving as a physical distraction, I was able to zone in on what actually does turn me on and marry it to what turns my client on,” she tells me. “I feel like they got a more genuinely sexually enthusiastic me, whether they knew it or not.”

We choose this line of work because certain things come naturally to us: We’re not squeamish; we enjoy inflicting pain or discomfort; we need to be in control. All this is still true whether we’re in “mistress mode” or not. But during sessions, we’re frequently forced to play up how cruel or turned on we are and hide pieces of ourselves, such as gentleness or goofiness, that don’t fit the character.

People who ask if I’m a “real domme” or “truly sadistic” don’t realize that what they’re looking for is only half of what I’m capable of offering. Many of my favorite clients are interested in getting to know the “real” me and seem to understand that compassion and sadism can go hand-in-hand. As a result, they’re rewarded with vulnerability and a more genuine connection. And amid this national crisis, many of us find more men seeking this holistic connection with dommes. (It’s worth noting that some dommes prefer not to share personal details with their clients, opting to keep their sessions in the realm of performance and fantasy.)

Mistress Eden Newmar, a Chicago-based pro domme who has been offering services in person and on the phone for four years, has found that regulars who once called her solely to be humiliated now wish to discuss their pandemic-era lives. They talk to her about their fear of losing their jobs, or they complain about the lack of privacy being stuck at home with their families. Eden believes these calls add new emotional depth to her relationships with her clients.

Why are the needs of clients changing in this way? My theory is it’s all about control. I frequently see or talk to men with demanding jobs who are seeking an outlet where they don’t have to be in charge and make decisions. These days many men don’t have that sense of power. They no longer seek control or surrender; they want stability.

But not everyone’s needs are changing. Many of my regular phone-based clients are looking for the same fantasies they’ve been calling me about for years. They don’t ask how I’m doing, and they don’t want me to ask about their lives, because they don’t want to break the fantasy. They don’t see me as a person outside that fantasy, and I’m perfectly okay with that.

As a domme who specializes in boxing fetishes and beat-downs, I get the majority of my calls from men who want to play out scenarios in which I use my incredible strength to kidnap them and keep them as my slave or work them over and humiliate them in my fantasy boxing gym surrounded by fellow pugilists with huge, sweat-slicked muscles—and ready cocks, for the bi-questioning.

These calls rarely represent what I do with clients in person. In a similar session we may simulate kidnapping or blackmail but only after working out safe words. Boxing often turns one-sided but never to the point of risking permanent damage. And these sessions always happen in private—to my knowledge, no orgy-ready boxing gym exists.

And yet fantastical virtual sessions are no less authentic or genuine. On many calls, I sense men are showing me a secret part of themselves that few have access to. Likewise, I bring out different aspects of myself. This can cut both ways: When seeing clients in person, I and other BDSM and fetish providers tend to use frameworks such as “risk-aware BDSM” and “safe, sane and consensual,” encouraging limits and verbal consent. But phone and text-based sex work offers little to no room to discuss boundaries. Via calls and messages, I’ve beaten up people’s wives and kidnapped, raped and even killed clients as they’ve jerked off and urged me on. I’m constantly questioning what responsibility I bear for the mental health of my clients. I also question why, even when I’m uncomfortable in these morally gray areas, I’m often turned on as well. All of this leads me to a deeper exploration of myself—to echo Sophia, whether the client knows it or not.

Sometimes being vulnerable requires us to be more honest about our everyday lives, and sometimes it requires more exposure to the fantasies we escape into—domme and sub alike.

I personally find online and in-person services equally meaningful, but others, such as Mistress Hecuba, cannot wait to get back to seeing clients in the flesh. As a pro domme, Hecuba balances fear and degradation play with healing work that focuses on somatic awareness. For her, online connections simply fall short. “There’s something missing,” she tells me. “It’s intimate, but it’s disconnected in ways that aren’t as fulfilling as in-person play. It’s disembodied.” And yet even she has found that online sessions provide opportunities for a different kind of connection.

Hecuba recently spent an hour on the phone with one of her in-person regulars, simply discussing their relationship. Her submissive had a come-to-Jesus moment about what his role as a client should be. He’d been feeling neglected by Hecuba and realized the root of this hurt was his inability to accept that theirs was an intimate but still professional relationship—a common issue we face with clients.

For people we see in the flesh, these intimate discussions can be rare, but when they happen, they lead to better connections and better scenes. “To me, that’s the perfect way to play,” Hecuba explains. “The more I’m able to get to know you as a person, the more I’m able to give up myself to you.”

This intimacy brings about a level of confidence and a greater ability to be nurturing but in the sadistic way that her clients are searching for.

“I know where you’re coming from,” Hecuba will tell her clients, “and I know you’re having a hard time with this issue, but you’re still going to stick your tongue in my asshole.”