The Post takes a crack at its own version of a Sex Diary today by chronicling the adventures of Melissa Febos, a New School student turned midtown dominatrix. Febos has written a memoir about her time stepping on the chests of fat men and shaving the body of a stockbroker named Hairless Billy. And it is, as you may expect, full of wonderfully bizarre stories, including the one that convinced her to give up on the dominatrix business.
Her final client was Tony, who met her outside a Meatpacking District hotel with a bizarre request.
He had attached a string to his nether regions. He insisted that she grab the string and lead him to an ATM down the street, where he withdrew the $500 for their session.
When she dropped the string, he cooed, "But Baby doesn't know where Mommy is taking him. Doesn't Mommy want to lead the baby there like a good doggy?"
Febos knew she was done. "I was petrified the whole way that I would see someone I knew, that we would see anyone at all."
The money "just wasn't worth the humiliation in the end," she says. "I think it just came so clear with him — all of the exhilaration, all of the glamour was completely gone. It was gross, and I didn't feel empowered anymore."
It's not repeatedly kicking a bank CEO in the testicles before whipping out pink dildos named Fat Man and Little Boy, but it will do on a Sunday afternoon.