Saturday, October 16, 2004

The Week In Review

Warning: This entry contains some rather graphic descriptions of advanced SM play. Skip this one if you squick easily…

I was talking to a client on the phone this week - a guy I genuinely like, but who tends to be a bit bratty at times. He wanted a next-day appointment.
"Oh, no can do, sweetheart, I'm booked up until – let's see – next Tuesday."
He sighed in exasperation. "Now, Matisse, what are we going to do about this schedule of yours? You're far too busy."
"Well," I replied slowly, "I could try to be less good at my job, or less physically attractive."
He doesn't say anything.
"Or, I could raise my rates. I'm guessing that would free up my schedule some."
He makes a doubtful "mmmmmm" noise.
"But I'm sort of guessing most people would rather that I didn't do any of those things."
We agreed that he'd prefer calling earlier for an appointment next time to any of those other three options.
This was a tough week to try to get to see me, because I had two different 3-hour sessions booked, and that's a chunk of my work-week gone right there. I'm actually developing a small group of multi-hour guys who see me very regularly, and when I add up the number of client hours I book per month, and the percentage of those hours that I spend with that small handful of boys – well, it's just interesting, that's all.

This was a big week for "cock-and-ball torture", otherwise known as CBT. (Although, really, that's true more often than not around my dungeon.)
I don't really like the word "torture" in this context, it sounds too third world country-ish - but I have to admit that some of the stuff I did this week would probably make Amnesty International blanch.
I did a really lovely scene with my carpenter, Mr. Wood, who makes my dungeon furniture. He's a wonderful, talented, deeply kinky man, a masochist, and we've been trading our respective skills for about five years now. Sometime I marvel at the fact that his dick still functions at all, because I have done some really insane shit to it - at his request, and with his encouragement, you understand. Mr. Wood has taught me a lot about advanced CBT, and while I know some other guys who are heavy CBT fans, Mr. Wood is in a class by himself. I've beaten his dick until it's all black and blue, I've hung ten pound weights off it, I've stepped on it wearing heavy spike-heeled boots, I've stuck it so full of needles it looks like a pervy pincushion, I've crushed it in a vise, I've put metal rods the size of a pencil down it, and I've electrified it so intensely I felt sure that if I stuck a GE bulb in his mouth, it would light up a la Uncle Fester. (Photo links available upon request – but don't be faint of heart.)

This week I've been a little extra-concerned about the general health and well-being of Mr. Wood's dick, because when we were playing the other night, I got a shade too enthusiastic with the violet wand, and burned the head of his penis with it, right next to the piss-eye. Whoops.
I became aware of this when I looked down and saw this small round thing that looked like a rather big drop of pre-ejaculate on the tip of his dick.
Hey, wait a minute, I thought. Mr Wood doesn't drool.
Then I realized, oh shit, that's a blister.
He wasn't too worried about it, but I know how burns can get infected if you don't take care of them, so I reminded him about that several times. I'm quite fond of Mr. Wood (really - I am!), so I can't have him getting some nasty flesh-eating bacteria thing.
So that was the CBT highlight of the week, but as the days went by, I spanked cocks, I squeezed balls, I poked, pulled and electrified, and I put (many, many) clamps on that special bit of helpless dangling flesh. It was rather a festival of penis persecution around here.

I'll now wait, with amusement, for the comments of terror and horror to begin – since I know all you squicky kids read this entry, anyway…

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