Meet the Dominatrix Trying to Take Down Donald Trump

Dominatrices Against Donald Trump! Presidential Party and Fundraiser, hosted by Mistress Tara Indiana, head dominatrix and founder of the BDSM playpen Den of Iniquity. Mistress Tara is running for president.

Photo credit: Tara Indiana 

Photo credit: Tara Indiana 

Mistress Tara invited me to the fundraiser personally, after reading a VICE article I'd written about one of her workshops. She wasn't thrilled about this, so I'm nervous. The program for the night, according to my ticket, includes a sit-down dinner and Mistress Tara's presidential stump speech, followed by a burlesque show and some mingling among members of the BDSM community. There's also going to be a raffle.

"Are you here for the event?" a hostess asks as I walk in. The restaurant isn't rented out, so I assume she says "event" to maintain some level of discretion or anonymity. I nod yes, and she tells me to find my place card.

There are about 50 people in attendance: an assortment of professional mistresses and their male subs, Tara's childhood friends, and some photographers. And me. There are also two old friends of mine from high school sitting at the bar, but they're not here for Tara; I nod and wait for the rumors to start circulating about the new crowd I've started hanging out with.

I head to the press table, but my place card isn't there. So I walk to a few other tables, and realize I don't see my name anywhere. I start to think the Doms Against Donald are playing some kind of elaborate prank on me, and my immediate reaction is to freak out and bolt, because that's my immediate reaction to most situations. You don't belong here, I tell myself. Run. So I do.

I walk back outside, already planning to call this piece off, or write about how I was duped over by a dominatrix. This is my payback for writing that article about Mistress Tara's workshop in the first place: A 30-minute drive and $10 for parking to walk around a restaurant humiliated. But eventually, I take a breath, suck it up, and head back inside to explain the seating issue to the hostess.

This time, she tells me to follow her, and suddenly I find myself face-to-face with Mistress Tara. There's my name tag — it's been waiting for me all along, seating me at her table. We exchange a polite hello, and she tells me she's glad I could make it. I do not know why, but for some reason, I'm intimidated. Like seeing a teacher out of school for the first time and expecting to be assigned homework while at the grocery store, I keep expecting to be whipped or flogged at a dinner party.

Read the full VICE UK article: http://goo.gl/JBbgL0

Mistress Tara's presidential page: taraindiana.com