I got a phone call yesterday from an unknown guy who said, "I'd like to book an appointment with you for a really hard spanking."
"That sounds fine," I answered.
"But I'm married and I can't have any marks."
"Well," I said, "that makes it more difficult. I can spank you lightly, until I think you've reached the point where I might leave red marks if I continue, and then stop. Or I can spank you very hard, and you can take the risk of having marks. But I can't do a hard spanking and promise you no marks."
"But I've heard there are ways to it so that you don't get marks."
"None that I'm aware of – at least, none that I'm willing to personally guarantee."
"But, there has to be a way!" He's sounding kind of pouty now.
"As I said - none that I'm willing to personally guarantee."
"What about clothes? What if I wear clothes?"
This is getting tedious. "Look, honey, if there were a simple way to do this, I'd know it, and I'd tell you what it was. I'm perfectly willing to spank you as hard as you want, with or without clothes. But you'll have to deal with the consequences, because there is no reliable way of ensuring that you won't have a red butt afterwards."
"But I can't have marks!"
"Then I guess you can't have a hard spanking." This is like talking to a two-year-old.
He hangs up.
It's nice to be perceived as powerful, but it's annoying when people seem to think I'm God and can alter the basic tenets of human physiology at will.

Interesting new experience today: I went to one of those tanning salons where they have the booths the spray self-tanner on you. I've done self-tanners at home before, but I've wanted to try this, and since I'm going to be prancing around in skimpy outfits -or less - this weekend, I thought now would be a good time to check it out.

The setup had a slightly kinky feel to it…you go into a room with a big metal booth it. You take off all your clothes, obviously, and step into this steel box and shut the door. You have to position yourself exactly so, and then you push a button that activated this row of nozzles. They rotate up and down, spraying a fine mist of chemicals for (I think) about thirty seconds. Then it pauses, and you turn your back to the nozzles, and then they spray your back.
The bad part: It's cold as shit, for one thing, and I was also trying to hold my breath as much as I could, so I inhaled as little of the chemical as possible. And of course I'm trying to stay in position properly so I don't get streaks or white patches. The noise of the machine is kind of loud and it reverberates around in the metal booth. So it's kinda creepy.

But I'm pleased with the results…It looks nice and even and not orange-y at all. (One small note to self: next time, lean forward slightly when getting your back sprayed, so you don't get faint white patches under your butt cheeks.)

And while self-tanners never look quite as good as a real tan, this won't turn my skin to leather and give me cancer. Unless I inhale too much of it.

Cool self-tanner resource for other vain types like me..Sunless: Your Sunless Tanning Guide

Shitshitshit I am sooo not ready to go to Portland on Thursday! RunErrandsFinishColumnFinishWorkshopSeeClientsWorkoutPack – aaaaahhhhh!

(It'll be fine, it always is, breathe, Matisse, breathe…)

Sunday is not a day of rest around here...I need to pay some bills online (I love that, so convenient), shovel out the pile of papers that's completely masking my desk, and try to do something about the many stacks of books on the floor that have turned simply walking into my office into an obstacle course.
I love books. No, I mean I really love books. And I have way, way too many of them. Every inch of wall space in my office is covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, they're all jammed full, and there are two large plastic storage boxes overflowing in a corner, and then there are several knee-high stacks against one side of my desk. If we have another earthquake, anyone standing in the room directly downstairs from my office will buried in my books as the ceiling caves in.

And this even after I just unloaded three good-sized boxes on Half Price Books earlier this week. (Of course, I bought another armful while I was there, but hey, it was substantially fewer than I came in with!)

I'm going to have to start storing some of my books in my office at the studio, but...I like having all my books with me all the time. I'm weirdly...I don't know - sentimental? Superstitious? Something. I mean, what if I'm home and I want to read one of them and it's at the studio? What if there was a fire? I know, this makes no sense. It's bibliomania. But hey, there are worse addictions to have. Like, say, teddy bears. Or unicorn figurines. That would be terrible...

A small rant about fetishwear shopping online…

So, a very sweet client generously gave me a substantial gift certificate to Demask, which is a fetish store in NY. I'm sure it's a very cool place to shop in person, but since I'm not there, I'm trying to shop on their website, and Jesus, it's a nightmare. The whole thing is hard to navigate, they won't let you open links in new windows, the pictures are very small and unhelpful, and they don't have pictures at all for a lot of their merchandise.

And this is high-end stuff, too – I really expect better in this price range. Hey, you want me to spend five or six hundred dollars on a single piece of clothing, then I want to see big photos, from all angles. God, places like Zappos and Bluefly have way better navigation and photos than this. It's sort of amazing that it's so badly done.

On the plus side, they were very nice about the fact that this GC is over a year old and I have lost any paperwork I ever had for it. I'm remembering now why I never used it - it's because the website was so impossible to deal with. (The paper catalogue is equally unhelpful.) But they had the paperwork on file and were very polite about agreeing to still honor it. So: Demask customer relations, thumbs up, Demask website design, thumbs down.

I am not a person who tends to rank things hierarchically…Either I like something (or someone) or I don't, I don't put them into lists based on how much or how little…
That being said – I had a client today who is definitely on my "like" list. He's just a great guy – smart, funny, and fun to play with, both because of how he responds to me and because he's always willing to try new things. He and I were trying to decide how long we've been seeing each other and we figured that it's since the middle of 1999, so we've really gotten to know each other, which I value. It was a nice way to end my week.


Speaking of getting to know people…Last night Jae and I went to a somewhat unusual social event. There's a group of people who get together periodically to sing karaoke and socialize in different bars. The unusual part is that these folks are all sex industry workers and, shall we say, the men who admire them. Nothing sexy actually happens at the bar – it's just a social mixer, as it were.
I don't usually attend stuff like this, because for one thing, I'm just too damn busy. And besides, I put myself out in the world a fair amount. I usually feel not-so-interested in attending yet another event where I have to be "on", if you know what I mean. I mean, they're all nice people, I'm just not so into hanging out in a bar and I am definitely not going to be singing!
But I've heard good things about this group, and one does feel a certain obligation to show the flag occasionally. So I called Jae and said, "We're going - I'll pick you up."
Well, the smoke about killed me, my throat was sore this morning when I woke up. But other than that it was fine. I saw some people I knew, met some new folks, all quite pleasant. Several of the women were extremely sweet to me, and told me how much they liked the column, which is always nice to hear. But after about an hour I could feel my throat getting raspy and I thought, "I have to get out of here." So we split.
But I was thinking about it afterwards. It's really kind of a trip, because when I first started in the industry, you would never have found something like that. I mean, the idea of socializing with (past or potential) clients in a group situation like that, not for money, but just because they're nice guys (and also because it's good long-term marketing) was completely unheard of. Of course, this is all simply a statement of my personal experience. But my experience is pretty wide.
That's all really changed, and it's been interesting watching the evolution. The internet, and email, has made it possible to organize social outings like this without much difficulty, which is cool. The sex industry is extremely flexible and it adapts quickly to new cultural forces. That's one of the things about it that makes it an interesting place to work.

Speaking of weird phone calls…my column this week got rather brutally edited down. Wah. I hate it when that happens. However, I'm thinking it was for length, rather than as a statement of my editor's poor opinion of my literary efforts. All the line breaks I specified take up a lot of room.
But for my devoted readers, I will post the entire version, uncut, here….Read and (hopefully) enjoy.

Someone just called me on the biz line, whistled "Deck The Halls" - you know, "with boughs of holly", the Xmas song - and then hung up.

He did have some trouble with the higher notes on the "fa-la-la-la-la" bit. That part needs polishing.

Weird-o-rama. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

I'm feeling a little frustrated right now, because I wish there were two of me. One of me to attend to my regular daily life, and one of me who'd get to play with all the tempting boys and girls who are throwing themself in my path lately. (These would be personal partners, not clients.)

There's the sweetest little dark-haired girl (Okay, she's thirty, but she has a very girlish air about her...) that I've played with twice, and I'd like to do it again, but Jesus, I have no time. To be fair to myself, she's pretty busy too. But there are just so many scrumptious people that I don't dare let myself get involved with, because I really don't want to hurt their feelings when I don't have time to see them on any kind of regular basis.

I know, I know - it's a nice problem to have, isn't it? Too many cute potential partners and not enough time for them all. Sucks to be me, I know. And it isn't as if my daily life is boring drudgery, either - quite the opposite! I love what I do for a living, I'm getting some nice attention to my column, and my other writing is going very well.

But I do get frustrated sometimes, because I can remember a time in my life - oh, ten years ago - when I had oodles of time for different partners. Of course, I don't want to give up all the things I'm doing now that are taking up all that previously-free time. Greedy, aren't I? It's part of my charm.
I tell myself that life goes in cycles and I'm just in a very busy career/creative cycle right now, and in time the wheel will spin and I'll have more space in my life for secondary/play partners.

But it's damn hard to wait.

I would like to give Howard Stern and Mel Gibson a lap dance...

All right, some small measure of my faith in humanity has been restored. She (for it was a she) did, indeed, apologize promptly when I told her that Mistress Matisse = Marcella. And, at my suggestion, she wrote to my editor retracting her accusation.
This the second time this has happened, though. And wow, it's very annoying. Both these people seemed so sure that I was NOT Marcella. Now as I see it, the intelligent person's thought process should go something like this: well, gee, Marcella and Matisse are both caucasian women with brown hair and brown eyes with a similar build and facial structure and they seem to be more or less the same age. They're both in the sex industry. Hmmn, maybe, just maybe it IS possible that they are the same freakin person.
And it's not like either person wrote to me and simply asked me if I was Marcella. No, they both just assumed they were right and wrote me (and my editor at the Stranger) snarky emails accusing me of plagiarism. Jump to conclusions much, people?

Sigh. Okay, okay, I'm over it, really. Just had to rant a little more...

Geeze. Some twit just sent me an email accusing me of plagiarism. Only it's me that s/he thinks I'm plagiarizing.

You see, I've done writing and given interviews under other names - one of them being "Marcella" which is the name I used when I was a dancer. So this bird reads my column this week in The Stranger, which is about my first sugar daddy. They remember something else he/she has read. (I don't know the gender of my accuser, they didn't sign a name to the email.) They go pull my friend Erika Langley's book off the shelf and read me - as Marcella - telling the same story in only slightly different words. They decide that Marcella and Mistress Matisse can't possibly be the same person, and they send me (and my editor) an email accusing me of plagiarizing.

Good god...I mean, there are freaking pictures of me in the book! Yeah, I've changed - I'm seven years older, my hair is longer, and I'm slimmer - but my coloring and my face are the same. I'd hate to see this person trying to pick their mugger out of a police lineup...Bad visual skills.
So I wrote them back explaining their error to them, and I was more polite than I think they really deserve. We'll see if they apologize. I bet they don't...

I (mostly) ran two freakin miles at the gym last night, and now my legs are letting me know how much they really don't appreciate that. I'm groaning like an old man every time I stand up. Fuck you, Covert Bailey, you sadistic bastard.

I've never been much on cardio - I have slight exercise-induced asthma, so I've avoided it in the past, focusing instead on weight-training. But the meds I'm on now seem effective at preventing me from having a real attack, so that's cool. But what I wanna know is: how long before I get used to the running and don't hobble around the next day looking like an old Tim Conway comedy sketch?

The most frustrating kind of client is the guy who acts…sort of vaguely dissatisfied, both during the session and afterwards, but who won't tell me what it is that he really wants.

I have a couple of guys who do this, and it bugs me. Intellectually, I know they must like what I do, because they keep coming back, and when I ask them if there's anything new they'd like to try, they say no. So, okay, I'll do what we always do. But it's really difficult for me to keep my energy and my interest level up with someone who acts like he doesn't want to be there.

I'm always tempted to 86 them, but I keep thinking that maybe we'll have some kind of breakthrough. Trust takes time, and I'm willing to give someone time to get to know me over the course of several sessions, if that's what they need. But for some of these guys it's been years they've been seeing me. What's it gonna take for them to open up and tell me what they're really fantasizing about?
Or maybe they really are getting what they want, but their desires embarrass them and they can't let go of the shame. So they try to act cool and nonchalant about the whole thing, and it comes across as bored and disconnected from the scene.

On some levels, I can just shrug and say hey, it's their money, if this is okay with them, it's okay with me. But I don't get any pleasure or satisfaction from the session, and the absence of it makes me realize how much I do enjoy the sessions where someone really lets go and gives themself to me, just for that little island of time.

Okay, the column topic has been chosen. But feel free to shoot me ideas for next week. It's an ongoing challenge…

This week I've got to figure out what I'm going to do for my Kinkfest workshop. I mean, I know what I'm teaching: Female Genitorture. But I need to sit down and plan it out, because I've never taught a class on just FG, it's always been mixed in with other stuff. I'm lucky to have Jaelle stunt-bottoming for me for this. It's challenging enough to teach a good class without having to worry about whether your model is doing okay.

And I need to try and hook up with a certain pretty girl who I haven't seen in a while – so if you're reading this, Miss B, I know you're busy with school, but hey: email me back, and we'll talk about art - and other things…

It's just another very busy week in the life of the Mistress…

So, it's Sunday afternoon, and that means one thing around here: I have to start thinking about what I'm going to write for this week's Stranger column. My deadline is Wednesday am, so I generally start drafting or at least making some notes on Sunday night. Then Monday nights I come home from the gym and sit down with a can of diet Coke and get serious about it, and on Tuesday night I do the last minute tweaks and touch-ups.

So if you're a regular reader of my column and you've got suggestions, pipe right up. I'm interested in knowing what you'd like to read about. Bear in mind that I have only a very small space, so it has to be a pretty bite-sized topic. And no, I don't wanna do two-parters. Of course, I think every one of you should email The Stranger and tell them you think I should have a longer column. That might help.

How did I know this?


You are the Devil card. The Devil is based on the
figure Pan, Lord of the Dance. The earthy
physicality of the devil breeds lust. The
devil's call to return to primal instincts
often creates conflict in a society in which
many of these instincts must be kept under
control. Challenges posed by our physical
bodies can be overcome by strength in the
mental, emotional, and spiritual realms. Pan is
also a symbol of enjoyment and rules our
material creativity. The devil knows physical
pleasure and how to manipulate the physical
world. Material creativity finds its output in
such things as dance, pottery, gardening, and
sex. The self-actualized person is able to
accept the sensuality and usefulness of the
devil's gifts while remaining in control of any
darker urges. Image from The Stone Tarot deck.
http://hometown.aol.com/newtarotdeck/


Which Tarot Card Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Something weird is happening with the comment form...I'm trying to get it sorted out.

(A few minutes later) Wow, we went from unreadable-black to VIVID aquarium blue. Um, okay, at least it's readable. I'll try twiddling the code for that later.

(And a few more minutes later) Okay, got a note from TechSupp, apparently THEY are twiddling the code so it'll be a HTML rodeo with that comment form for a little while.

A Shameless Marketing Moment...


This is one of my self-portrait nudes. Hey, did you know - you can buy prints of this! (Nudge, nudge.) I'd probably like you and think you were a cool person if you did.
Not that I'm trying to influence your artistic sensibilities or anything. Really.

Click here to see it in a new window

So it's occurred to me that for someone who has as many alt-sex identities as I do, this isn't a particularly sexy journal so far. I think there are several reasons for that...

1. I am not going to tell juicy stories here about my clients and their fantasies. One of things you get when you buy my professional time is my discretion. (I may occasionally rant about people that want to be clients of mine but who aren't going to be, due to some flaming act of stupidity or rudeness on their part in the negotiation phase of our relationship. But even then I'm not going to name names, you understand.)

Plus, I command a certain rate to talk dirty, and ya'll aren't paying it.

2. I think one of the reasons why people talk about sex in their journals is that they feel conflict about it, and I don't feel particularly conflicted about my sex life these days. I think the only conflict I have is that I don't have enough freakin time to pursue anything with most any of the pretty-and-available people in my life.
Cause if I did, I wouldn't have time for anything else, and I'm in a real career-oriented phase of my life right now. So what I have time for one primary partner  + one person who's very, very laid-back about when they see me. That person, currently, would be Mike, who is being the single most perfect secondary partner I have ever had in my life ever. Did I mention ever? Mike rocks. We always have fun, he's totally cool with me vanishing and re-appearing at random intervals, and he's building me something so very very cool, so fabulous that I can hardly believe it's going to be mine. Ooooo....
But anyway, if you're looking for lots of nasty stories, sorry, can't help ya. But I'll try to keep it interesting anyway.