I keep looking at various pictures of this charming contraption and thinking, "I've got to get one of those made." I tried one out once at a leather conference a couple of years ago, and it's quite the experience. The even, constant pressure all over your body - it's like being underwater. And you really can't move, either. It's trippy.
So one of my projects over the next few months is to talk to a local latex clothes designer and see if she can get me the rubber required. Then it's just a matter of getting her and my carpenter together to fit it to a frame. A specialty toy, to be sure, but I have to surprise my boys on a regular basis or they'll get complacent.

I got an email from some unknown guy today, with a URL in it. The sender wrote, (sic)

will U please treet me lik this?

Now, I hate one-line emails anyway. If you're going to email me – and you want an answer - do it in a proper letter form and for god's sake, sign a name to it. It doesn't have to be your real name, but give me something to address you by.

So there's no way I'm going to bother with someone who has managed to cram that many mistakes into just seven simple words. But I was mildly curious about the link, so I went and looked at the page.

It's an ad for a Mistress who does phone dominance. And to say that her style is rather…different from mine - well, it's like saying that rapper Lil' Kim has a rather different musical style than, say, Norah Jones.

This is a clip from the page…

"Prepare to be brainwashed and conditioned to the point that your every move and every decision requires MY APPROVAL. Once I get in your head, there is no escape from the evil that is Mistress (name removed). Without Me, you are nothing! At least giving Me every dollar you have will give your life SOME meaning. you're a worthless LOSER, a sick perverted PIG and I plan to exploit your weaknesses to get what I WANT. If you have to work as a fry boy at a burger joint for a second job then you WILL if that's what I command. I CARE ABOUT GETTING ALL YOUR MONEY, I DO NOT CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU OR YOUR FAMILY!"

This certainly isn't the first time I've seen this kind of ad copy for dominatrixes. There must be a market for this attitude, or else they wouldn't be doing it. (The sender of this particular email does not seem to me like a client with the potential to be terribly lucrative, but hey, maybe I'm being a snob.)

And doing phone stuff is obviously different than in-person sessions. I can see where you'd have to amp up the attitude a bit.

But….Eeuuw. When I read that, I feel like I image vanilla people feel when they look at any BDSM text or imagery. It just seems so profoundly negative to me. I could not do a scene where I was really throwing that kind of energy at someone. I'm not that good an actress, and if there was ever someone I really felt that way about, I would not see him as a client. To me, if I truly had the attitude towards my clients that's portrayed in the ad copy above, I wouldn't feel any better about myself than I did about them. How could I?

I've done scenes - at the client's request - where I pretended to be angry, although I suspect I wouldn't always win an Oscar for my performance. What works best for me is if my client and I structure the role-play around something I can tap into some genuine personal anger about. One of my favorites: The strict Human Resources Director dealing with a male employee who's been sexually harassing his female co-workers. Even though I know it's a game, the concept of sexual harassment pisses me off, and I can focus that generalized outrage onto this nasty boy in front of me who's been groping his unwilling cubicle-mate.

By that logic, if you really wanted me to get pissed, I suppose wearing a John Ashcroft mask during the scene would be the way to go.

So, the "righteous indignation" style of anger? Mmm, yeah, I can get there, if someone asks. But sheer vitriolic acid? Nope.

Verbal humiliation play certainly has its place in BDSM…How many times have I called some bent-over boy a "dirty little slut" and watched him wriggle in mingled embarrassment and excitement? But just as there are physical lines you don't cross in BDSM, I think there are mental and emotional lines that shouldn't be crossed, too.

Quick Professional Note: I have had a cancellation in my client schedule tomorrow. If you're one of the gentlemen I was forced to turn down for an appointment this week because there was no time left available, you're welcome to call back and try again...

Nostalgia Tripping on ITunes…

I am such a nerd when it comes to music – I just don't keep up very well with the hot new stuff. Like Blanche Dubois, I must rely upon the kindness of stranger (and friends, too) for good recommendations.
Unless, of course, you roll back the years to the '80's...Because as mildly embarrassing as it is, I know '80's music. (Not that my taste in 80's music is so exalted, either. But at least I know the bands.)

See, I have this theory that the music that's popular when a person is an adolescent is permanently engraved into their consciousness. It will be the standard by which they judge all future music, and the sound of it will always have the power to evoke memories of the past – you know: Young Love! Carefree Days! What the fuck was I thinking with that haircut? Why did I go to Prom with that loser? The kinds of things that are probably much better to look back at than they were to actually experience. But isn't that what nostalgia is all about?

So I'm listening to memories today...

Twilight Zone, By Golden Earring
Games Without Frontiers, by Peter Gabriel
Eye In The Sky, by the Alan Parsons Project
Modern Love, by David Bowie
Poison Arrow, by ABC
Rock The Casbah, by The Clash
Relax, by Frankie Goes to Hollywood
Fantasy, by Aldo Nova
Addicted To Love, by Robert Palmer
1999, by Prince
Smooth Operator, by Sade
And She Was, by the Talking Heads
Cars, by Gary Numan
Suddenly Last Summer, by The Motels

Tiresome Phone Calls - Variety # 129-B

Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, do you do phone sessions?
Me: No, sorry, I don't.

Now, what he should have said was, "Okay, goodbye." But you already know it's not gonna be that easy, don't you?

Caller: Why not?
Me: (A pause, to indicate that I find this question somewhat less than polite.) Because I don't want to.
Caller: I'll pay you.
Me: No, I don't do phone sessions.
Caller: But I can't get to Seattle, so I really, really want to do a phone session with you.

Now, I have a very complex and highly scientific theory about people who, when confronted with a limit, respond by saying, "But, I really, really want you to." My theory is: they're buttheads.

Me: (very slowly) No, I don't do phone sessions. Goodbye.
I hang up.
Ten minutes pass.
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Um, I just called you a few minutes ago?

I am deeply suspicious.

Me: Yeeeees?
Caller: So, you only do in-person sessions?
Me: Yes, that's right.
Caller: So, if I came to Seattle we could do a session together?

I already think this guy is a twit, and I can't believe I'd be willing to book a session with him. But I generously give him another thirty seconds, to see if he'll be the one to disprove my theory.

Me: Well, we'd have to discuss that a bit. I'd have to make sure you and I were…compatible in our interests, as far as a session goes. What kinds of play are you looking for?
Caller: Yeah, yeah, right – we'd have talk about it. So, like, how about if we do it like this – how about if you sort of talk me through all the stuff you'd do to me in a session, and I'll sort of respond like I would if we were doing the session. Just so we can, y'know, see if we're compatible.
Me: Let me get this straight: you want me to describe, step-by-step, exactly what I'd do to you in a session, and you'll respond as if it were really happening?
Caller: Yeah, yeah.

Oh, this is nice - we've gone from his offering to pay me to his feeble attempt at tricking me into doing it for free. Charming. My theory is confirmed, once again.

Me: (gritting my teeth) No, that is a phone session, and I told you I didn't do phone sessions. Goodbye and don't call me again.
I hang up.
Five minutes pass.
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Um, so I know you told me not to call you again, but I was wondering if you knew any other Mistresses who do phone sessions?

The Perils of Popularity

I was at a suspension-bondage class yesterday, but I was feeling lazy, though. So I went and sat at the back of the room and ate Tootsie Rolls out of the candy jar. And Monk of Twisted Monk came and sat down with me and we had a nice chat for a while.

 I've only seen him play once or twice, but he seems pretty good with his ropes. And he's also becoming more known in the community because makes his living by selling hemp rope for use in bondage.

It's funny, there are definite trends in BDSM play, at least among the community of kinky people that attend BDSM events. Seven years ago, I had never seen anyone doing Japanese-inspired rope bondage. Five years ago, I had seen it a few times, mostly being done by Max. (This was before we became involved.) Three years ago, I personally knew half a dozen "rope guys" – about three of whom lived in Seattle - and knew of another half dozen or so nationwide. Now, it's the hip way to play. Nothing against those who flog, pierce, whip, spank, whatever – but rope bondage is in vogue at the moment, and lots of people are doing it or want to do it. Rope bondage is in.

One could speculate on why this is so. It may just be that every fetish has its day, but I think there are other reasons as well. For example, rope bondage is a form of BDSM play that has a lot of flexibility. It can be mild, moderate or severe. Done well, it's esthetically pleasing. And suspension bondage – the flashiest, the most dangerous, and thus the sexiest form of rope bondage, can make both top and bottom feel a bit like glamorous circus performers.

This all being the case, I gave Monk a little unsolicited advice. "Since you are becoming known in the community as a rope top who does suspension," I said, "you will need to practice a certain skill, and that is - the art of the polite refusal."

Monk is, after all, the same guy who once said to me, "It's all about the rope. Chicks dig the rope." I believe him.

I continued. "I think women get more of a chance than men to practice tactfully declining…shall we say, intimate invitations? And I've seen tops get caught off guard, just because he's not so used to women he's just met making a real serious play for his attention. But it'll happen. You're going to get all kinds of women – and men, too – asking you to hang them up. And some of them – well, they just aren't going to be your type. So you should brush up on how to say 'no thank you' gracefully."

I was relating this story later to friends over dinner. One of them, who also a rope top, acknowledged the point, saying, "Yeah, and I'm not always so tactful about it." Now, I've never seen this guy be rude, but I pointed out the difference in the two situations. "You're not selling a product," I said. "Monk is. And the very people who are likely to want to buy his rope are also the people who are likely to want him to tie them up in it. He's a pleasant, friendly guy and that's going to help him in his business. But it also means that people are going to see him as accessible and so he's going to have to walk that line or risk offending some of his customers."

Can you tell that I relate to Monk's situation? While I'm not selling a tangible product like he is, I do want people to read my columns, and come to my workshops, and for those who are so inclined, I want them to be clients of mine. But I have to politely say 'no, thank you' to a lot of people who want more from me than that. Refusing someone's offer of something that's as personal and intimate as BDSM play takes delicacy, if one is not going offend. And offending people without considering the repercussions is a luxury you give up when you make your personal pleasure into your livelihood.

This is an article by a woman who's a dominatrix in one of New York City's pro dom houses. I've never worked in such a place, but it's an interesting piece and I like her tone of voice.

Amusing Client Remarks From The Past Week…

I know, I know, other people tell cute stories about their kids - I tell cute stories about my clients. That's just how it is.

Featured Client #1 and I were sitting on the couch after the session, looking at digital pictures I'd just taken of him in some rather advanced states of stress and exposure. He studied one intently and then announced, "I think I may use this for my Christmas cards!"

Featured Client #2 is a faithful reader of my Stranger column and apparently found inspiration – or something - in this week's piece.

Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Client: Hello, this is the Silver Stud calling….

Luckily for him I have a sense of humor.

I was going to post something last night…but a pleasant languor came over me, and writing seemed like too much exertion. I had spent several hours with one of my favorite clients, who we'll call Milo. (Not his real name.) I like playing with Milo for all the reasons that I generally like playing with anyone - he trusts me, he's open to new things, and he's got a high tolerance for pain. He's also a physically big guy, and I enjoy that about him. I'm five foot five and I weigh a hundred and twenty pounds, and there's something deeply satisfying about making someone who's at least nine inches taller and ninety pounds heavier than me roar like a lion singing an opera.

But there's more to it than that. Milo is one of a handful of clients with whom I have a certain…connection. You see, in my sessions, one of two things can happen. The way it most often goes is that I create an experience for someone that sends them on a physical, emotional and psychological journey. Picture someone para-sailing – with me driving the boat. It's both an erotic and an artistic exercise for me, and I enjoy doing it.

But sometimes it's different. I'm still creating the experience – but something happens along the way – and the wind catches me and whoosh, I'm up in the sky, too.

Last night I hooked my electrical box up to Milo's most sensitive places and stretched out on top of him like he was my own private chaise lounge. And then I turned up the dial until he bellowed.
It's such an amazingly intimate thing, to hold someone close to you while they're writhing and hissing in pain – pain that you are creating. I rubbed my cheek against his as his body shook with the stress of the electricity, and I looked in his eyes and told him how beautiful he was to me. I could have dialed down the intensity. I didn't. Each time the wave of electricity crested over him, his eyes opened wide and his muscles went hard underneath me. I put my face kiss-close to his and sucked the breath from his mouth like it was nitrous oxide.

In other conversations, Milo has told me that he admires my self-discipline. I wonder if he realizes that this is the school in which I learned it. Sadistic pleasure is an intoxicant, and I have taught myself to only take carefully calibrated sips. So before I really want to, I turn the dial back down again. But as soon as he can speak, Milo whispers, "Let's do it again, Mistress."

How could I refuse?

The Thirty-Seconds Rule
There's an amusing scene in the 1983 movie "The Big Chill" in which actress Mary Kay Place is talking to Glenn Close about her experiences as a single woman evaluating men as potential boyfriends. She says, "It's gotten so I can tell in the first thirty seconds if there's a chance in the world."
Glenn Close reacts with mild disbelief, but I know exactly what Ms. Place's character means, because when I get a phone call from a potential client, I can tell in the first thirty seconds if there's a chance in the world.
Of course, some guys make it easy. Consider this fatuous ignoranus…

Ring Ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Well…good evening to you, pretty lady.

The caller is speaking in an extremely contrived "sexy" voice. It's the kind of voice you hear affected by radio DJs on "smooth jazz" stations – rather slow, and as deep and as resonant as he can possibly force it to be. Produces something of an I'm-a-totally-Caucasian-guy-trying-to-sound-like-Barry-White effect. I don't like it.
I wait to see if he's going to say something else. He doesn't. We're 5 seconds into the conversation, and he's off to a bad start. But I try again.

Me: Good evening – can I help you?
Caller: No, you can't. (meaningful pause) Because I want to be the one who helps you.

Now, what the hell am I supposed to say to that? He wants to help me? What is this, State Farm's sexy new telemarketing campaign?

Me: Okaaay…So, are you calling about my ad?
Caller: I'm calling because I think you're a beautiful woman, and I want to make something magic happen with you.

Great. It's not State Farm - it's David Copperfield! It's now been ten seconds, and I'm not liking this guy any more than I did five seconds ago. I still don't even know if he's actually a prospective client, or an obscene phone caller who likes to do a little foreplay. So I try the direct approach.

Me: I'm afraid I don't understand: are you calling me because you'd like to see me professionally?
Caller: What I'd like is to get together with you in front of my fireplace, put on some music, open up a bottle of wine, and just talk for a while. I think you and I should (meaningful pause) get to know each other. And then, I'd like to just (meaningful pause) see what happens.

I smother a snort of laughter, because I have an instant mental image of this guy lying hog-tied on the floor in front of a fireplace while I sit on the couch and drink wine with my feet propped up on his butt. I'd lean over and say to him, "See what happened?"
But as charming a fantasy as that is, I really don't want to do what it would take to make it come true. It's now been twenty seconds, and I'm quite sure this guy is not client material - at least not for me. It's time to wind this up, so I give him a gentle little tap with Mistress Matisse's clue stick.

Me: You know what, I think you've called the wrong woman. My name is Mistress Matisse, and I'm a dominatrix. It sounds like what you're looking for is an escort.
Caller: No, I'm looking for a lady to connect with, and I think you're the one. You're not afraid to try something a little different, are you?

'Afraid'? 'Afraid'? Oh – now he's done it. Now he's crossed a line, and now I know, for sure, that he is a complete asshole, and unworthy to be the recipient of my good manners. I really do not like it when people try to manipulate me so blatantly. Of course, I don't like when people try to manipulate me subtly, either - but at least it's not such an egregious fucking insult to my intelligence. It's time to mess with this guy's head a little, and his use of the word "afraid" has given me an idea.

Me: (in a sexy voice) Well, now that you mention it…
Caller: Yes, pretty lady?
Me: (still in the sexy voice) Can I tell you a secret?
Caller: Oh, yes - you can tell me all your secrets.
Me: I am afraid. (speaking louder and faster) Terribly, terribly afraid. You see, I have a bad case of agoraphobia. I'm afraid to leave my house. I haven't been outside for weeks. It's very sad, and I'm actually very depressed about it. Deeply, intensely depressed. Maybe if I could just talk to you for a while about it, I'd feel better. You see, I think it all started early in my childhood – (he attempts to break in, but I don't stop talking) – when my parents made me take ballet lessons instead of tap, but my brother, he got to take tap, and I just felt so –

Click. He's gone.
I laugh.

Okay, you all have to go look at this truly fabulous picture taken by Seattle photographer Kevin Hundsnurscher It's called Checking The Results. Kevin - who shoots film, god bless him – says, "This is what happens when you shoot digital all the time."
I cracked up laughing when I saw this. I think I may have to buy a print.

I had a delightful date with my ultra-fabulous secondary partner, Mike, last night. I swear, Mike has reaffirmed my faith in the idea that polyamory can be a happy, drama-free arrangement. It's been nearly a year that we've been getting together and it's always just as much fun as the first time. In fact, it's better - I love it when that happens.
The thing that continues to impress me about Mike is that he's fine with the fact I disappear and reappear at random intervals. I never get angsty emails about why I haven't called, there are no jealous scenes at parties, no moody posturing about my primary relationship with Max. He's always happy to see me when I'm with him, but there is no pressure on me whatsoever. We hang out, we have great sex, and then he feeds me rich, decadent pastries while we sit in his hot tub in the back yard. What a wonderful man.

Want to know a secret about Mike? Okay, brace yourself: he's not into BDSM.
Stunning, isn't it? Mistress Matisse has a vanilla lover. Only – it's not quite that simple. You see, aside from my well-publicized BDSM tastes, I have certain…fetishes. Now, some of you may think that "fetish" is just another word for BDSM-type stuff. Not necessarily. This is the actual definition of the word "fetish":

What is a Fetish? "In anthropology, a fetish is an object to which powers are attributed that go beyond its natural ones; when the term is extended to sexuality, it indicates an object not naturally connected with sexual reproduction that nonetheless causes sexual arousal for some people….Note that originally 'fetish' was used of the object itself: a particular artifact would be a fetish. But in its sexual use it usually means the propensity to be aroused by a certain object, as in 'Joe has a fetish for white cotton underwear', and the object is called 'the fetish object'. 'Fetishism' is the propensity to be aroused by a fetish object. "
~From: The Deviant's Dictionary

Anyway, it just so happens that Mike appeals to a very specific fetish of mine. So sex with him feels kinky to me, even though there are no restraints and floggers in the mix.

What’s the fetish? Oh, wouldn't you like to know. I could tell you. But if I do, then I'll get emails from a bunch of strange guys saying, "Hey, I can do that, too – can I fuck you?" And the answer is no, so let's just skip that whole exchange.

I have told Mike about this little fetish of mine, because I felt like I should. I was a bit worried, when I first talked about it, that he might feel I didn't like him for his own sake. I do - he's handsome and smart and sexy, and he talks as fast as I do, which always makes me feel bonded with someone immediately. He makes me laugh. He has cool tattoos. I like his hands. I like the way he dresses. And I like the way he fucks me.

"But I hope you don't feel like I'm just using you, sexually," I said, as I was sitting on his lap in the hot tub. He smiled at me for a few minutes, and then he allowed as how he did not find that thought to be troubling him overmuch.

He's been dating some other women casually, but he doesn't have a primary partner. That does make it easy for him and me to spend time together – but I find it rather surprising, since I think he's quite attractive. True, he seems pretty involved with his work these days, and he's also a part-time dad – that kinda slows down your social life. I told him last night that I should set him up on some dates with polyamorous women, so that even if he started a primary relationship with one of them I could still borrow him. I must admit, given that I was completely unsuccessful at finding a girlfriend for my brother, I'm not terribly optimistic about my chances here. But hey – if you're a pretty, poly, smart, articulate woman who'd like to share a lover with me, drop me a note and I'll tell you a little more about him.

A friend of mine recently asked me for some advice about a problematic client. (Yes, I actually get asked for sex-work advice quite a lot, so get used to reading that lead-in.)

"So what's the trouble?" I asked.
"Well, he wants me to do an outcall, for starters."
"But you have a place - I thought you didn't want to do outcall."
"I don't."
"Then tell him no. What's his problem coming to you? It's a nice apartment."
"I don't know - and he wants an appointment at midnight, and I don't want to be seeing anyone that late, and he wants me to do anal and I don't want to, and a bunch of stuff like that."
"So basically you're telling me he wants you to do the exact opposite of what you want to do."
"It seems like it."
I threw up my hands. "Then he needs to see somebody else. I mean, clearly you aren't a good match for him."
She shrugged uncertainly. "I told him that, but he told me he doesn't want to see anyone else and that if I'm going to make it in this business I need to learn to adapt to the needs of my customer."
"Adapt to the needs of your customer? What the fuck does he think you are you, a car manufacturer or something? Bullshit. Run your business the way you want to."

I haven't gotten any further reports on this particular situation, but I do bump into this kind of thing myself. I have a way of working - a system, if you will. When I talk about "my system" I don't mean what I will or won't do in my sessions. I mean my system of what days and times I schedule appointments, how I like to arrange the initial session, getting confirmations, giving directions to my place - details like that. If someone wants to see me, they're pretty much going to have to fit themselves into my system. Some people don't want to - to which I say: that's just fine. I wish you the best of luck elsewhere.

You see, everyone has a certain amount of emotional energy to give to what's important to them. For me, a chunk of that energy is labeled, "For My Clients". I have a crystal-clear understanding of the capacity of that section of myself. I know precisely how many clients I can see in any given week and still have an appropriate level of emotional energy for them all. I've calibrated this all quite carefully to ensure that I don't get burned-out. Since my system suits me so well, planning all the details of when/where/how really requires very little of that energy from me.

Unless...I start trying to incorporate one person's passel of "special-request" details into my work-week. That throws the whole balance out of whack. Doing that draws from the energy that I would normally devote to other clients. The result is either: I'm too drained to see my usual number of people, which means I don't make my preferred income. Or, I see the same number of clients - often because they're already booked - but I'm tired and I don't enjoy myself. That's not fair to the clients who make it easy for me.

Now, understand, I don't mean things like, "Would you wear black fishnet stockings?" That kind of request is easy. And I don't mean asking me for this activity versus that in a session.

No, I mean stuff like "I want a session at midnight" (Equally unlikely variation: "at nine am".) Or, "I want you to come to our house and be a surprise for my girlfriend." (Even if I wanted to do it, this is a very bad idea.) "I want to meet you in a bar with you dressed up all sexy and have you pretend to pick me up."

There is nothing wrong with these desires (except for that "surprising the girlfriend" one), but I don't want to deal with such requests, they're too much hassle. There a lots of boys who are both fun to play with and who fit smoothly into my system, and that's who I like to see. After all, I'm a dominatrix - having things my way is one of the perks of this profession.

I find this sort of fascinating, but also rather creepy, especially if I'm all alone in my office with the lights off...It's the costume, the weirdly domestic/suburban setting, and the uneasy idea (even though I know it's not true) that the chicken can see me, too.
The Subservient Chicken.

Busy girl this weekend...I'll do a real post later, but now, for your entertainment, I will present something a clever acquaintance of mine wrote. I thought it was hilarious...

A POLYAMORY->ENGLISH PHRASE DICTIONARY

Poly phrase: "I don't use primary/secondary terminology, since I don't see
my relationships as hierarchical."
English translation: "You're a secondary."
Poly phrase: "For me sex is about energy, so breathing and heart connection are more important than ejaculation."
English translation: "I'm more sophisticated than the guy over there,
please sleep with me instead."
Poly phrase: "I see polyamory as being more about relationships and intimacy, while swinging is just about sex, and sex without intimacy is
just not where I'm at right now."
English translation: "I'm more sophisticated than the guy over there,
please sleep with me instead."
Poly phrase: "The most important thing to me is keeping agreements."
English translation: "If you start seeing someone else and I'd feel
unsophisticated just saying that I'm jealous, then I'll reinterpret one of
our agreements until I'm able to say you broke it."
Poly phrase: "Even secondary relationships for me aren't just about sex."
English translation: "Secondary relationships for me are just about sex."
Poly phrase: "Right now the most important things to me are building poly
family and intentional community."
English translation: "I'm getting concerned that I won't always be able to
easily find new partners, plus I'm tired of driving from place to place,
and oh yeah, I'm more sophisticated than the guy over there, so please
sleep with me instead."
Poly phrase: "In our household the most important things are open
communication and open process."
English translation: "Expect to be abused with passive-aggressive 'I'
statements."
Poly phrase: "I don't feel that we communicate on the same level, and that
you aren't supporting me emotionally."
English translation: "I'm tired of you but it would make me seem less
sophisticated and hence reduce my opportunities for further sexual
relationships in this community to actually say that so bluntly, so I'll
make this about vague failings on your part instead."
Poly phrase: "I think we should each have veto power."
English translation: "I want to reserve the right to veto each of your
partners, no matter how much they respect our existing relationships, so
that you're de facto limited to monogamy while I play the field."
Poly phrase: "I think that we should focus on each other for a while."
English translation: "I'm having more trouble finding partners than you
are, time to clip your wings!"
Poly phrase: "I want you to always feel OK telling me what's really going
on in your life, and asking for what you need in this relationship."
English translation: "Ask for what you need, and express hurt feelings, at
your peril."
Poly phrase: "I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at myself, for not having
recognized sooner that we weren't right for each other."
English translation: "I'm angry at you for not making my life perfect, but
rather than taking responsibility for setting and meeting my own goals I
find it more satisfying to shift the blame to you while superficially
appearing to do the opposite."
Poly phrase: "Out of respect for our primary bond, we normally only see
other people together."
English translation: "MAYBE THIS TIME I'LL FINALLY GET TO HAVE SEX WITH
TWO WOMEN AT ONCE OMG OMG OMG THAT WOULD BE L33T!!!!! "
Poly phrase: "I think we need to process the end of our relationship and
get closure."
English translation: "I'd like to kick you while you're down."
Poly phrase: "We obviously need to work on our relationship."
English translation: "We're through, I just want to vent a little more so
that I can feel a little more self-righteous once you know it's over too,
OK?"
Poly phrase: "The idea of line marriage has always appealed to me."
English translation: "The idea of having sex with people younger than me
has always appealed to me."
Poly phrase: "So, which conventions do you like to attend, what kind of
books do you like to read, what are your spiritual beliefs, and what is
your ideal occupation?"
English translation: "Which science fiction conventions do you like to
attend, who is your favorite fantasy author, what form of neo-paganism do
you ascribe do, and where in the computer industry would you like to
work?"
Poly phrase: "I'm needing to do some inner work, and instead of dating
anyone would rather just work on my relationship with myself."
English translation: "I'm tired of you, but since I don't have anyone else
lined up right now I might as well get some mileage out of the personal
growth angle."
Poly phrase: "Well, I'm only theoretically poly, but I already have plenty
of firmly-held beliefs about how it could be done in real life!"
English translation: "Hi, I'm an idiot."
Poly phrase: "Swinging would be way too crass for me, I'm more about
relationships and emotional intimacy."
English translation: "I've always wanted to go to New Horizons, could
someone give me a ride there and guest me in, as long as I don't have to
ask publicly?"
Poly phrase: "All of my partners are equally important to me, and they're
all primary."
English translation: "I'd rather not explicitly spell out what the
hierarchy is, but trust me - you'll know when you run into it."
Poly phrase: "Our friendship is more important than anything else."
English translation: "Once you've told me that we're done fucking, you'll
never hear a word from me again."
Poly phrase: "I'm willing to take this slow as well."
English translation: "I intend to act like a SNAG (Sensitive New Age Guy)
and put as much pressure on you to put out as possible."

Way, way too funny...My thanks to the author, RDB, and contributor, Vamp...

I just had time to skim over this very interesting-looking post about types and levels of poly-ness in CosmicBabe's journal today. But I'm looking forward to reading it more thoughtfully later and seeing how it tallies with my own little categories. She has a lot of good things to say about the subject of multiple love relationships.

Love the phone, hate the phone: I'm spending a chunk of my day today on hold, or waiting for faxes, or waiting for call-backs…Sigh. Frustrating, because I can't get too involved in anything else, but I'm not really doing that much, either…So I'm writing mindless blog entries…

Books I'm reading; Non-fiction
Nathanial's Nutmeg, by Giles Milton. The book deals with the competition between England and Holland for possession of the spice-producing islands of Southeast Asia throughout the 17th century.
An Anthropologist On Mars: Seven Paradoxical Tales, by Oliver Sacks.
Neurologist Sacks presents seven case studies of people whose "abnormalities" of brain function offer new insights into conceptions of human personality and consciousness.
The Floating Brothel: The Extraordinary True Story of an Eighteenth-Century Ship And It's Cargo Of Female Convicts. This riveting work of rediscovered history tells for the first time the plight of the female convicts aboard the Lady Julian, which set sail from England in 1789 and arrived in Australia's Botany Bay a year later.
The Art of the Steal : How to Protect Yourself and Your Business from Fraud, by Frank W. Abagnale
Fiction
The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory. A vivid retelling of the story of Anne Boleyn.
The Many Lives & Secret Sorrows of Josephine B. by Sandra Gulland. A fictionalized account of Josephine Bonaparte's life in the form of diaries and letters.

You can see a trend there, hmm? I'm a popular-history fan. Not American particularly, more European and some Asian. Also, human-behavior stuff is fascinating to me..
Whoops, gotta go, someone's finally calling back!

I read one of those "human interest" news stories yesterday about prostitution. Purportedly an interview with a woman who'd been in the business, it was the usual bird-in-a-gilded-cage nonsense about the plight of the high-class (their phrase) call girl. Oh, poor girl – she was trapped by all that money and independence. Gah. I don't really want to link to it, because it's a stupid piece and it pissed me off. But I suppose if I'm going to rant about it, you should be able to read it. "Pity Me! I'm a Victim Of Myself!"

Look, I don't object to having this one woman's individual experience portrayed in the media, if they really think it's newsworthy. But the newspaper and the interviewee are not representing it as one individual's experience. They are saying: "this is the definitive experience of sex work." Fuck that, it’s not my experience! They never run the opposite side - a woman who says "yes, I did sex work and it was fine. No big drama, I made some money and now I'm doing something else..." That's not news, apparently. (Except that it would be to some people.)

The woman said things like,
"The reason I'm single and childless is because of the business…It also kept me from forming real relationships. Ladies who are in the business make a conscious decision to avoid intimacy."
No, the reason you're single and childless is because you chose to be that way. Lots of women in the sex industry have children – even in the middle of a sex work career. I myself don't want little rug-rats, but I do have a wonderful lover who adores me, and I certainly haven't made "a conscious decision to avoid intimacy" - quite the contrary.

It’s her insistence on assigning her experience and her choices to every other woman in the sex industry that bothers me. Would she feel okay about making such sweeping generalizations if she were in any other line of work? Or has she just bought into societal preconceptions about who she is?

She also trots out that "all women in the sex industry have been sexually assaulted" line. (The implication being that they became sex workers as a direct result of being assaulted.) Guess again, honey – I haven't been. And I know of several other sex workers who haven't been, either. But the fact is, approximately 683,000 adult American women are raped annually, and so, yes, statistically, some of those women will go on to become sex workers. And some of them will go on to work at Wal-Mart. But I don't think anyone's going to posit that being raped inevitably leads to working as an underpaid drudge at a soul-destroying corporate monolith. It's false logic.

Here's what I, personally, have observed about the sex industry: If, before she ever enters the sex industry, a woman is an emotionally troubled person with poor self-esteem and a history of bad decisions, she'll continue making bad decisions and suffering the negative consequences while she's in the business. But now, some of them will be sex-work-related decisions and consequences, so it's easy for people to say, "Well, obviously it's because she's a sex worker. See what an unhappy, damaging life it is?" And she'll probably agree with them, because it's easy for a troubled, low-self-esteem person to buy into the victim mentality. That way, she can then avoid taking any responsibility for her choices. So she's tucked neatly into the victim pigeon-hole, and everyone thanks goodness they don't have to examine any potentially unsettling ideas any further. Their pre-existing beliefs have been confirmed and they feel righteous.

Now, she could fuck up her life just as badly if she were a waitress at Denny's. But that's not as sexy, so no one writes newspaper articles about that.

You see, the work itself doesn't fuck you up - it just magnifies what's already there. If you love yourself, and believe that you deserve to be loved by others, when you choose to become a sex worker, then you'll probably be just fine. But if you don't, then you'll probably run into trouble.

Exhibit A: This woman details a conversation with her father in which he sounds pretty harsh. I'm thinking there's some bad history there that dates back to before her sex work career began. Clearly she learned some of her core beliefs about how she should expect men to treat her from an unloving man. That's a emotional time bomb waiting to go off.

Bottom line: If you don't already have a basic belief that you deserve safety, and respect from other people, in your working environment, you'll bring that mindset to your sex work job and you'll accept being treated badly. If you don't already have a basic belief that you deserve love and respect and safety in your intimate relationships, you'll attract people who want to treat their lovers badly, and you'll let them tell you that you don't deserve better because you're a whore.

To be a happy, healthy and successful sex worker, you have to be inwardly defined. If you accept external definitions, you will become filled with self-hatred. It's the same with most marginalized subcultures, like being queer, or kinky, or transgender. You have to be strong enough to throw off the shit that people would like to heap onto you.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of not-so-emotionally-healthy people in the world, and some of them become sex workers. So all of us get tarred with their brush, because society finds it convenient. And I personally get really tired of constantly picking the sticky black shit out from between my toes.

Okay, so it's not a new site - in fact, it's not even being updated anymore. But it's so funny I still laugh out loud when I read it. I need to buy his new book.

Today was one of those days where I really enjoyed myself at work. Two clients, both excellent regulars. The first of them was a very sweet man, over fifty, who has an infectious laugh and blue eyes that sort of twinkle when he's having fun. He's relatively new to me – meaning, less than a year – and I'm the first pro dom he's seen. But he's taken to it like a duck to water and he's become a fan of rope bondage. That makes me happy, because I like doing it, and I don't get to so very often.

So he was laughing that unmistakable "wow, I'm really endorphin-high" laugh while I tying him up in various positions, and it made me laugh, too. I'm sure that if you asked some random person to describe what a session between a professional dominatrix and her client might be like, they most likely would not say, "Well, they'd probably laugh a lot." But it's not unusual. I like people who laugh when I'm playing with them. I especially like it when I make them sort of laugh and wince at the same time. That's a favorite of mine. (Not to sound like a commercial, but if you'd like to see a great example of a laughing-and-wincing scene, buy my video and watch the second vignette, with Rose Algren. She laughs a lot, even though I'm doing some pretty serious stuff to her. Plus she's a flaming babe.)

My second client I've known for several years, and while he's also over fifty, he's kind of a health-and-fitness nut like I am, and he's so springy and muscular I think if you dropped him off a four-story building, he'd probably bounce. And he'd smile, because he's an unsinkably cheerful guy.

He likes intense sensation (pain, for those of you not up on this lingo) and we did some play with sounds. I'll now explain what "sounds" are, but if you squick easily, you should skip this next paragraph.

A sound is a medical instrument, a long slender metal rod that's designed to be inserted into the male urethra. Click on this link if you'd like to know more. This is advanced play; please don't do this unless you've been taught by someone knowledgeable, or you could really damage someone's body.

So there I was, sliding this metal rod into his dick, thinking, "What a magical thing this is." And that’s how it seems to me when I'm playing – like it's magic. Like I'm magic. I love that I can do these intense things to people's bodies, and somehow, through some alchemical transformation, it's not a bad thing. Instead, it's wonderful. That's where the power comes from, for me. Not in making people endure something nasty – that's just bullying someone. No, the magic is doing fierce things to people and making them like it. That's the magic.

I can do that kind of magic.