It'll be a little quiet around here tomorrow and Monday - we're entering the last few days of the Maternal Invasion, and I'm now in full-on submissive mode with my Mom, which basically means I devote all of my waking time and attention to her. I do it because I love her, and also, I admit, to assuage my guilt over the fact that I'm going to be somewhat relieved when she leaves. Yes, family is a good thing - but Jesus, I want to get back to my life-as-usual. (Or my life-as-unusual, depending on how you look at it.)

But at least we won't be around the house for SeaFair Sunday. I hate Seafair. I regard it as a noisy nuisance put on just to annoy me, and it works. Our house is in the flightpath for the Blue fucking Angels as they practice, so they've been roaring overhead every afternoon for the last few days. You can hear the boats, too - it's a distant buzzing sound that never seems to end. Traffic gets crazy, streets are closed, it's just a huge hassle. Bah humbug to SeaFair, that's my opinion...

Our plan for tomorrow is: we're all going to go watch Monk swing a sword (or a mace, or a lance, or whatever he swings) at the Medieval Faire where he's currently performing. It's always amusing to introduce one's perverted friends to one's family, knowing what you know about them. But Monk has graciously offered to show us around and so forth, and I'm sure my Mom and her husband will enjoy it. I'll enjoy it too - just in a different sort of way.

Strange Email Of the Week...

I will tell you that I have not read your rules nor do I care I am a man who spends his money as I please. I keep on searching for someone and no one has satisfied me yet. I have never done this before but I play by my rules and that means seeing me in my house. I trust no one but I am willing to spend what ever it takes to make me happy. I don't need to come here I can go to any bar any place and spend my money if I please and there are lots of people to take me up on my offer. the question is do you want my money do you want my house because if I meet the right person I will give them all that I have. so if you think that we can talk I am giving you a chance to talk to me as beautiful as you are I hardly doubt that you need my money but if you want to talk write me I am not looking for you to go to bed with me just to satisfy my desires. If this is a chess game it is your move.

It's always weird to me when people contact me and say they want to see me - and then tell me that they don't want what I'm about. I mean, it's like going into an Italian restaraunt and telling them you want sushi. You're setting yourself up for disappointment.
And as a sex worker, when a potential client implies that he's had uniformly unsatisfying experiences with all the other women he's seen, that's a red flag. He's probably going to come into the session with you expecting to be disappointed again, and what I've found is that it's damn near impossible to overcome that expectation. Whatever you did for this guy, it wouldn't be enough.
Plus the fact that I'm not even sure if he's looking for a sex worker or a girlfriend. I mean, I've gotten some nice tips and gifts in my time - but a house? Seems unlikely.
In sum, this has "Mr. Defensive" written all over it, and I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot riding crop.

Stupid Phone Call Of The Day

Ring ring!

Me: hello?
Caller: Yes, hello, I want to come and see you.

This guy has a heavy accent that originates from somewhere far south of Texas, which gives me pause. You have to assess men with non-American accents carefully - although it's true that even domestic accents can be a red flag sometimes.

But there are customs in America about how one deals with sex work and sex workers that men from other countries don't share. Hell, most of the time, the laws themselves are quite different. For example, I regularly have to explain to Canadians and Englishmen that sex for money is actually illegal here.

But those are two examples of non-American men with whom, given some discussion beforehand, one can have perfectly enjoyable sessions. Australian men, on the other hand, are sometimes problematic. Western European guys can be fun, but again, you have to clearly explain the no-sex thing to them, because unlike the US, their countries are not ruled by right-wing theocrats, and so they have different experiences.

Asian guys are generally fine as long as they speak English, and Indian men (as in: from India, not Native Americans) are also usually okay. I've had some trouble with Middle Eastern men. And South American/Latin/Hispanic men tend to be - well, the ones I've encountered professionally didn't seem to have bad intentions, but they've proven rather too exuberant and hard to control.

I realize that in making these kinds of generalizations, I run the risk of sounding like I'm a raging cultural supremacist, which I don't think I am. God knows, most of the Stupid Callers I feature here are born and bred in the old US-of-A. It’s just that, like all sex workers, when a new person calls, I'm looking for signals that seeing him would be a safely familiar type of experience. So being from another country is not an insurmountable barrier, but it's something I pay attention to.

Me: Okay, I make appointments Monday through Friday…

I start to go through my spiel, but he interrupts me.

Caller: I want to come see you now. Can I come now? Where are you? You do full-service, yes?

Okay, this would be the annoying idiot of the day.

Me: No, I don't do full service, and no, you can't come see me. Goodbye.

Click. I hang up.

A minute later…

Ring ring!

Me: hello?
Caller: Why did you hang up on me?
Me: You said you wanted full service. I don't do full service, so I think you should call someone else.
Caller: I want to come and see you. You don't do full service?
Me: No.
Caller: This is your ad, it says role-play?
Me: Yeeeeees…
Caller: I do a role play with you! Now I can come and see you, yes?
Me: What role-play did you want to do?
Caller: Doctor and patient.

I know damn good and well I'm not going to see this guy, but the sudden switch from wanting full-service (meaning: sex) to wanting to do a role-play has me curious.

Me: And what kinds of things did you want to experience as a patient?
Caller: No, no, I will be the doctor!
Me: You will be the – oh, you know, I don't think that's going to work for me.
Caller: Yes, I will be the doctor and I will give you a breast exam! And a (insert non-English word I don't quite understand, but which I can pretty easily guess the meaning of) exam!
Me: No, and don't call me again.

Click. I hang up. Não me fodas, asshole.

Oh, this is very cool, even if it's not going to take effect anytime soon...Judge in Seattle rules in favor of same-sex marriage in Washington state .

So, Remittance Girl, who comments here sometimes, has a cool blog of her own. She mentioned me there today, saying some nice things about my writing, which I appreciate...
But then there was this comment:"Mistress Matisse is a sadist. And, personally, as a submissive, I wouldn't want to get within 100 miles of her."
(clapping both hands to my chest) Oh! I'm so wounded by this. And here I thought I was coming across as a nice sadist...


Update: A few minutes later: I am kidding, in case you couldn't tell. I'm slightly surprised, but mainly just amused...

Text of an email I got from a client after a first session...These are the letters that make my day.

Thank you for yesterday's wonderful session! I had a great time, and hope that you enjoyed it, too. You are a superb Domme, and a fine lady.
I especially appreciate your receptiveness to my input about things to do, or do with more intensity. I've sessioned in the past with a couple of Dommes who considered that topping from the bottom or a challenge to their authority. But in a first session, when we really don't know each other, I regard it as helping to broaden the menu available for you to choose from, and that it ends up improving the session for both of us. You are obviously very secure in your dominance, and it showed in a very positive way.
I also appreciated your expressions of how you were enjoying the things you were doing and my reactions. It is important to me that the Domme has fun, too, and I also felt a sense that was much greater than usual of wanting to take more for you because you were showing how much you enjoyed it.
Thank you again for accepting me for a session. It was the highlight of my visit to Seattle.

It's a very sweet note, and he mentions something I just touched on in my column about the pleasures of topping: the bottom will struggle to take more intense sensation if the top shows clearly that they want it and that they're enjoying it. And I don't mean saying things like, "You better take more, asshole!" I mean a positive demonstration, like "I love it when you writhe around and moan like that. I love feeling the cane connect with your ass." Things like that keep a bottom going past places where they'd otherwise fold, because you're giving their pain a purpose: it pleases you.

Of course, you have to be sincere when you say those things - but then, I always am. Because I do love it...

Marketing is good, but you have to know how to fine-tune your message...After on-air pitch,'escort' arrested in sting .

Someone emailed me today and said, "How come you never write about Max?"
Well, I have, and I'm sure I will again. I've actually been nudging him about making a guest post here. Some of ya'll asked about the always-being-a-top thing, and I think he has some interesting stuff to say about that. Maybe when our parade of houseguests is over in two weeks, I'll get him to do that.
Meanwhile, in the name of parity, you can read an archived Control Tower column about him here...
I'm also charmed by Monk's reference to him of late...

Okay, back into the hosting-Midori weekend...

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I'm dashing off into a busy afternoon and evening, but I wanted to send a quick "Thank You" note to a very sweet man. Jake and I were at Coastal Kitchen last night, and after we had our dinner, we shared a piece of rather decadent chocolate cake.
When the waitress brought the bill, she said, "But the guy working in the pantry bought you dessert."
"He did? Why did he do that?"
She shrugged and smiled enigmatically. "You'll have to ask him."
When she walked away, Jake said, "He's one of your fans."
"No…You think?"
"I bet that's it."
Coastal Kitchen has an open kitchen – you can see all the chefs at work. So on our way out, we went up the guy the waitress had gestured towards.
I smiled at him. "So, you bought us dessert?"
He smiled back, "Yes."
"May I ask why?"
He leaned closer to me and said softly, "You are Mistress Matisse, right?"
So we chatted for a minute about common interests and then I thanked him and Jake and I left. But what a very sweet guy, and a nice thing to do – so, thank you…

Ring ring!

Me: Hello?
Caller: Do you do dominance sessions with couples?

I always marvel to myself at people who plunge into conversations like this without first making certain that they are, in fact, speaking to me. I mean, have they never dialed a wrong number in their life?

My first-impressions response is telling me "no" about this guy. He didn't say "hello, may I speak to…" etc. And he sounds way too young. But we'll dance a few more steps with him.

Me: Sometimes. Why don't you tell me a little about who you are, and what your experience is, and what you and your partner are looking for from me.
Caller: Well, I'd like to do this as a surprise for my girlfriend…

Boom. That's it, game over. I'd hang up right now, except that he'd just call back. But there is no way I will ever do a session where I'm a surprise for someone.

Perhaps you're wondering, "Gee, could she have had a bad experience in a similar situation?" Allow me to inform you that you cannot begin to imagine the apocalypse which can be wreaked by an irate spouse under such circumstances. I myself don't have to imagine it – I was there.

But I left, expeditiously. Pity the fool who had to stay behind, in a presumably vain attempt to prevent all his worldly possessions from being flung out a window six stories down to the concrete below. From the safety of the street, it looked as if it was raining CD jewel boxes and Façonnable shirts. The homeless people thought it was the second coming.

No, I will never, ever, be a surprise for someone's partner.

He's still talking -

Caller: …I'd like to like, blindfold her and bring her into your dungeon and like, tie her up and have you just start flogging her, and she won't know where she is, or who you are or anything. I think that would be really hot.
Me: No, I don't do scenes like that. She'll have to talk to me on the phone before I set the appointment, and when you get here, she'll have to talk to me and tell me that she's okay with me playing with her before I do anything.
Caller: Oh, man - really? I mean, I know she'd dig it, we've talked about coming to see you, but I think she's just, you know, kinda shy? Once she got warmed up and all, I know she'd be into it.
Me: I understand that. However, for my own peace of mind, I need to hear all that from her directly.
Caller: (cajolingly) She's really hot. She's 25, and she's got long dark hair, and a really pretty body, and –

Why do some guys think women will be swayed by shit like this? This boy needs a big ole whack with the clue stick: Unlike him, I'm actually not a mindless slave to my hormones.

Me: That is completely beside the point. Everyone I play with has to consent – to me, in person – before I lay a hand on them. That's my rule. If you don't like it you're welcome to try someone else.
Caller: Well, shit, I guess I will. I didn't know you were gonna be so bitchy about it.

Click. He hangs up.

I scroll through the Caller ID, and yep, there's his number. I wonder if I should call back in an hour or two and see if his girlfriend answers the phone. "Hey sweetie, better talk to your man, he's planning an intense surprise for you."
No, bad idea. Tempting, though. Maybe he'd wind up doing a submission scene that he didn't expect. What a charming thought.

Oh, this completely rocks! Way to go, girls!

Escort Service Helps Cops Nab Murderer.

 

So, I'd like to conduct a poll…I'd like you to tell me what your favorite entry is. The reason I ask is that it looks like a selection of my writings here are going to appear in a sex-blogger anthology. I speak of this rather cautiously, because I haven't actually signed a contract yet, but let's say that I feel reasonably sure it's going to happen. I'll give you more details about this as it becomes appropriate.

I know what ones I like, and I can infer a great deal from your comments. But if you have a particular favorite, let me know about that, please…

Just a note to say no, I haven't dropped off the planet, I'm just busy with - you guessed it - my mother...Look for a real post soon...

In the wake of this new sex book: "She Comes First: The Thinking Man's Guide To Pleasuring a Woman", there seems to be a lot of chat online lately about cunnilingus. Lilith has some good things to say about oral sex and the clitoris...

I'm sitting at my computer in a sleep-deprived daze, because I didn't get home from my date with Roman until around 4am. Luckily I had foresight enough not to schedule myself anything until 5pm, so I've had some time to get some caffeine working in my body and practice focusing my eyes properly.

How was the date? Well, I wasn't home until 4am – you should be able to infer a great deal from that alone…

For me, there are different kinds of attraction to people. Sometimes it's a very BDSM-based attraction. My responses to the object of my desire are rooted firmly in my SM-self, and my fantasies center around what kinds of play I want to do with them. Sex may or may not be involved, but when it is, it’s more of a method of expressing my dominance over them than achieving an orgasm or three.

And then sometimes I'm just plain sexually attracted to people. It's not about having a strong dominant (or submissive) response to the person in question. I just want to jump them. But they are usually kinky people, because that's who I hang out with. (Mike was a notable exception to this rule.)

Now, in the best of all possible worlds, once the two people in question have taken a little of the edge off their sheer animal lust, and they start getting to know each other a little more, they may find that they do have some complementary BDSM interests. When I approached Roman, I basically said, "I like you, and I think we should get in the same room together and take off our clothes and see what happens." Today I have some very nice bite marks on my back, and I'm guessing his nipples might be a bit tender. We had a fabulous time, and I think I know a lot more about what kinds of BDSM we might do together. It's always great when the first sexual experience you have with someone just fills you with inspiration about what else you'd like to do with them.

There's a phrase, "an open secret". That means a secret that isn't really secret. Something lots of people know about, but that isn't talked about – or at least, not much.

My open secret? Mistress Matisse is a switch. (What the hell is a switch?)

Lots of people know this about me – all of my friends, a fair number of my clients, and many, many random kinky strangers who've seen me playing with Max at various parties and leather conferences. But I have made only the briefest of references to this fact in my column, and I haven't talked about it here at all, and I have my reasons for that.

It's not that I'm worried about how other SM people will see me. Being a switch is not at all remarkable in the SM community. There are very, very few tops who have never bottomed at all, I've only met about four or five that I know of. (Max is one of them, interestingly enough.) I personally know a number of folks who, while perceived as badass tops by most people, say they would bottom in a second if they met the right person.

But outside the community, being a switch is a bit like being bisexual. The uninformed tend to assume that means your inclinations are split 50/50, and you like one role just as well as the other. Perhaps true for some - definitely not so for me. I don't think of myself as a submissive, and I'm definitely not a slave. Most of the pomp and ceremony of what people call D/s doesn't impress me as a top, and the idea of doing it as a bottom makes me laugh - I don't write my name in lowercase, and I'm not about to call anyone "Master". I have topped literally thousands of people. I can count the number of people I've bottomed to on two hands. That should tell you all you need to know about how I'm wired.

So what I really am is a top with a masochistic streak. My tastes are highly specific, and I'm quite selective about who I'll allow to provide the stimuli that I enjoy. Max happens to be very, very good at giving me what I like – probably because it's what he likes, too. Someone asked a few days ago how we handled being two-tops-in-love. Now you know...

While I'm not very good at the submissive thing, I do try to be polite while Max indulges our mutual kinky tastes. However, the physical stress of our play can strain even my deeply-rooted sense of courtesy, and so I don't always succeed. Fortunately, he seems to find it amusing when I scream curses at him while we play, even if it's in a crowded dungeon, like, say – Thunder in the Mountains. One might even suspect that he enjoys provoking me to such lengths, since he is such a sadistic son-of-a-bitch. (Kiss! Love you, darling!) But his pleasure is based on the fact that he knows I'm enjoying it, too – even if I have an unusual way of showing it.

The main reason I don't publish much writing about this side of my kinkysex life is this: I am generally able to regard with weary patience the emails and phone calls I get from strange people importuning me to be their Mistress. I don't mean the folks seeking professional appointments, I mean the will-you-have-a-relationship-with-me guys. True, I have occasional bursts of irritation. But most of the time, I have some compassion in my heart for such people, and I try not to treat them too roughly.
However, I find myself without any compassion for strangers who send me emails that say things like this:

I WANT TO MAKE YOU MY ANAL SEX SLAVE !! I WANNA STRAP YOU DOWN, BLINDFOLD YOU , GAG YOU , SPANK YOU AND FUCK YOUR SWEET ASS WITH MY BIG, FAT , MONSTER COCK OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN !!!

And that's a relatively good-natured one.

I think the reason why electronic assaults by clueless poltroons who call themselves "Master" annoy me more than the grotesque entreaties of people like the Tampon Guy is this: I know how it should be done. I cannot say with any degree of sincerity that I know the perfect way to approach someone as a bottom. I don't ask strangers to send me used feminine hygiene products, you understand – but I'm guessing that my approach is probably a bit on the blunt side. (My initial offer to Max: "I'll bottom to you if you bottom to me." Once he picked his jaw up off the floor, he took me up on exactly half of that invitation.)

However, when it comes to entrancing and enticing potential submissives, well, my kung fu is the best. It should be, I've spent years polishing it. So when I'm on the receiving end of a really bungled pass, I am possessed by the outraged spirit of Cyrano De Bergerac. "Oh, what you could have said!" These weedy fly-bitten popinjays, these pribbling clumsy clay-brained miscreants – how dare they think they can share the same job title as me? How dare they presume to use the word dominant? Their sin's not accidental, but a trade.

See what I mean? I get all indignant just thinking about it. So you're on notice: if I receive, in the wake of this post, any stupid emails from witless wanna-bees asking to spank me, I will publish them here - including the email address – and I will, of course, rip the author to shreds for the entertainment of everyone. You've been warned.

Police in the Florida Keys are mystified by a bizarre new pastime — young people dangling themselves from meat hooks on a popular sandbar.

I think I'd try to find a more secluded spot, but that's just me. Maybe the Florida cops should consult with Fakir Musafar, who could explain to them exactly why people are doing this. I've never done a full hook suspension, but I've done an energy pull, and one of these days I'm going to have to do it again... Me and the flesh hooks, Part One...
And Part Two...

  
What nice comments on my previous entry…So yes, I will talk about Thunder, but I'm too brain-fried from my weekend to write coherently about that right now. Perhaps tomorrow…
 
Meanwhile, I'm listening to my voicemails. I cleared them twice while I was gone, but still, the phone messages stack up fast…
 
YOU HAVE 13 NEW MESSAGES. PRESS 1 TO HEAR MESSAGES.
 
Beep!
"Hi, Matisse, it's Pete, just following up on our email. I'll definitely see you Thursday at 2. Oh, I have a request, if you don't mind? Would you wear that PVC skirt and the boots that lace up? You look so hot in that. I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
It's so nice to have good regulars.
 
Beep!
"Hi, my name is John. I'm going to be in Seattle this weekend and wanted to know about an appointment for Saturday night at around 8. My cell number is XXX-XXXX, area code, XXX. Give me a call."
END OF MESSAGE.

He sounds nice enough – but he didn't read my webpage, bad boy. It states "Monday through Friday" quite clearly. The trouble with guys who don't read the webpage is that not only do they not know my schedule, they often don't know a lot of other things – like what I will and won't do, for example. I may call him back and tell him my schedule and see if he wants to do a weekday appointment. Or I may not, depending on how busy I am.
 
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob. I want to see you. Call me at XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
There's a flat, staccato tone to this guy's voice that I don't like. He speaks as if his sentences don't have any relationship to each other, like someone repeating the sounds of a foreign language that they don't really understand. It's not a good sign, and I've learned to always go with my gut response to stuff like this.
 
Beep!
"Hello? Hello? Are you there? Is anyone there? Can you hear me? Hello?"
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Jesus, what decade is this guy living in? Answering machines where you can screen calls are like dinosaurs these days. He sounds like an old guy, though, so if he calls back we'll cut him a little slack. I like older guys. My oldest client ever: seventy-seven. And horny as hell, no blue pills required.
 
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob. I called earlier. Call me soon. XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Oh, that's not good. I check the time of this message and it's about an hour after the first one. I don't like that.
 
Beep!
Ooooooo Mistress, I wanna suck your –"
MESSAGE DELETED.
 
Beep!
Hello, Mistress, it's Andrew. I saw you once before about two months ago and I'd love to see you again. I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was the guy who brought you a wooden cutting board and you spanked me with it. Can you call me – discreetly – at my work number, XXX-XXXX, after 11am tomorrow? That would be great. Thanks, bye."
END OF MESSAGE. 
 
I do remember him, he was a sweetie, and I loved the originality of the cutting-board-as-paddle. Top of the call-back list for Andrew.
 
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob again. Please call me at XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Forty minutes since his last message. Bob is definitely creeping me out.
 
Beep!
"Hi, Matisse, my dear, it's James. I just wanted to tell you what a wonderful time I had with you last week. You're a beautiful lady and I really enjoy our time together. Oh, and I know you were a little concerned about that bruise on my cock, but I don't want you to worry, it's gotten much smaller and it's not terribly sore at all. You know I've done worse just playing around by myself. So don't worry, I'm tough, and I wouldn't change a thing about our scene. Take care and I'll see you soon."
END OF MESSAGE. 
 
Oh, how sweet of James to call and reassure me. Cock and ball torture is a favorite of mine, and when I'm playing with someone who likes it as much as I do, occasionally we get so enthusiastic that, well, there are bruises. I always worry about this when it happens. I've never done any long-lasting damage to anyone, and I'd like to keep it that way. But James is an experienced CBT practitioner and, like many boys who enjoy heavy CBT, he's tried out a lot of creative and extreme forms of that art on himself. So I do trust his judgment, and I'm sure he's got the situation well in hand. (Yes, I had to say it.)

Beep!
"Hello. This is Bob. I called before. I really want to see you. Call me back at–"
MESSAGE DELETED.
 
No, Bob, I will not be calling you, because nothing says, "I'm a serious weirdo!" like calling me every half-hour.
 
Beep!
"Hi, Mistress Matisse, my name is Brandy, I was wondering if you were hiring assistants right now? If you are could you please call me back at XXX-XXXX? Thanks a lot, bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Sorry, Brandy - not now, not ever.
 
Beep!
"Hello. My number is XXX-XXXX. Please call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Ah-ha. Bob's trying a different tack – leaving a number without a name. I don't return calls like that anyway - but there's no disguising that Thorazine voice of his.
 
Beep!
"Oh, um, hi, this is John. I called before asking about a Saturday appointment, and then I read on your webpage that you don't do weekend appointments, so I feel kinda dumb. So would you be available on Monday? You can call me at XXX-XXX-XXXX. Sorry about the confusion earlier."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
I'm charmed by this message. I look favorably upon people who cop to mistakes, and what a nicely contrite tone of voice, too. Okay, John, you made it to call-back list. I do like a man who's trainable.

Just a quickie...Thunder was great, as always. We're on a plane home tomorrow, (later today, really)  and I'll have to spend some time de-kinking the house before the Maternal Invasion begins on Tuesday. But I will find time to write some about my weekend.
But before I sit down to write about what I did at Thunder, I will have to settle an internal debate about just how much information about my personal kinky proclivities I'm going to disclose here. (My friends will know exactly what I mean by this.) The jury is still out...but I'm leaning towards telling you some things about me that may surprise or confuse the less BDSM-savvy among you. Stay tuned for revelations.