I want to spin off a remark made by the ever-observant Remittance Girl. In the context of talking about how difficult it is to maintain a 24-7, live-together, high protocol D/s relationship, she said: "The times I have had a Dom take out their mood on me in play, they have felt horribly guilty about it afterwards."

Well, yes, I can see why they might, if they were doing it from a not-very-self-aware place.
But blowing off steam through your BDSM play doesn't have to be a negative thing. However, it does require the clear awareness that, 'hey, I had a pissy day today, and I just want to beat someone's ass'. And it requires that you communicate this mood and this desire to your (potential) partner, so that they can say yea or nay.
Lots of masochists, of course, will selflessly volunteer their butts (or whatever) for such a thing. I have guys who specifically ask to see me when I'm PMS, just so I'll be in the nastiest possible mood. They enjoy the idea of me venting my pent-up tension on them.
But even a submissive person can usually find a place for themselves in this scene, if you frame it as them serving your need for emotional release, and keep reinforcing that motivation throughout the scene.
I can imagine creating a whole fantasy role-play scene around it. One could have one's partner play the annoying person du jour, and then you could fulfill those inappropriate, non-consensual fantasies about smacking around your co-worker/neighbor/friend/whatever.
That's what I think is so cool about kink. If you can figure out how you're feeling and what you want, and then communicate it honestly and openly to your partner, almost any mood or motivation can be okay. Clearly, not every fantasy can be realized. But if you exercise some creativity around it, you can do a lot.

I had a rather late night with Jake last night, so I don't think I'll be writing anything scintillating today. But you can go read my latest column, which is here...
Note: there's something odd with the formatting on the page, so I'll be dropping a note to the webmaster of the site about that. The other odd thing is that they keep changing the link to the "current column" page, which is annoying. So hopefully I'll get straight with them about that, too...
Now I think a nap may be in order...

Peer Counseling

When you've been doing something a long time, you forget, sometimes, how it felt when it was all new and you had to learn each piece of it step by step. But when you see others doing it, it makes you appreciate how far you've traveled. And it's nice to be able to help people just a little, even someone like this caller, who is a woman I don't know particularly well…

Ring ring!

Caller: Hi, Matisse, this is Chloe. (Not the name she actually goes by.) Can I talk to you? I kinda wanted to get your opinion about something.
Me: Sure, honey, what's up?
Chloe: So I have this client, and he's a nice guy. He's been seeing me pretty regularly for about six or seven months. But he said something to me that made me really uncomfortable and I don't know what to do about it.
Me: Okay, tell me what he said.
Chloe: Well, see, we had a session and I told him, just conversationally, that my boyfriend was going to be out of town for a week, and he didn't say anything then. But later on he called me up and left me a voicemail saying he wanted to make another appointment to see me – but he wanted to come see me at my house. He said since my boyfriend was going to be out of town…that we could do that. He said he wanted to have sex with me in my own bed, that it was a fantasy for him to be in my apartment.
Me: You usually do outcall, right?
Chloe: Yeah, and it's totally weirding me out to think about having a client come to my house. That's just not what I do. I mean, I don't think he'd, like, stalk me or anything, it's not that. It's just… (she pauses, groping for a word)
Me: It's just a boundary.
Chloe: Yeah! Yeah, it's a boundary. And the way he was talking about was so not cool – it was like, he just assumed I'd let him come there, so he wasn't really even asking me, he was telling me, 'I want to come over to your place'. Plus the fact that he also just assumes I'd be willing to lie to my boyfriend about it, too.
Me: Well, if you're asking me what I think, I think you should just call him back and say that you prefer to see him in the way you've been doing.
Chloe: Yeah?
Me: And I think some of what you're feeling is being uncomfortable with the idea of saying no to him. But it probably won't be that big of a deal, unless you make it one. Just say 'no thanks, I don't want to do that', and that's the end of it. If he tries to push it, then you'll have to get more firm with him. But I'm guessing he has absolutely no idea he's run into a boundary with you, and you just say you don't want to do it, he'll accept that.
Chloe: You think?
Me: Yeah, I do. Sure, it would have been nice if he had been able to intuit that the reason you weren't inviting him to your place was because that wasn't something you wanted to do. But it's okay to tell him no.
Chloe: I just hate having to say no to people. I always think they're going to be mad.
Me: Oh, honey, you need to be able to do that. That's important.
Chloe: I know.
Me: Well, I tell you – this job is a crash-course in assertiveness-training. You'll get lots of practice saying "no, thank you, I don't want to do that".
Chloe: Yeah?
Me: Yeah. Or else you'll burn out in six months.
Chloe: No, thank you, I don't want to do that.
We both laugh.

Update: the photo-theft situation has been dealt with...Thanks so much to everyone who went out of their way to be supportive and offer suggestions. And thanks also to the webmaster Paul O'Regan, who - once we got in touch with him - responded quickly and appropriately to the matter.

Trouble is, I'm not really sure who deserves the prize. Ms. Jane Duvall was actually the person who gave me the webmaster's email, but many of you were extra-helpful in other ways - Monk, 00Goddess, Neko, Jackie, Sunny and the other folks who emailed me and left comments both here and on the offender's blog. Monk is a local, so I can deal with him personally (heh heh heh), but I'm guessing the rest of ya'll are too far away to collect a reward in person. So if you'd like the URL for my fine art nudes gallery, drop me a note and I'll give it to you. Or you can just walking around in the world, knowing I think you're way-cool.

News Roundup

Okay, it's official. My Mother Has Left The Building. It was a good visit, and all good things must come to an end. Thank God.
Max and I still do have other houseguests for a few more days, but they're much lower-impact ones.

A Reminder: There are two links on the right: one is a text link that says: "Cunning Linguists Journals" and one is a black box that says "Clix" on it. They are Top List links, and if you click on them, my site moves higher up the list…Hint, hint.

Here's a challenge: Smart girl Jane Duvall sent me a note telling me that some rude twit stole a picture of me - one of my self-portrait series - and is using it to decorate their blog. I really hate image thieves – especially when it's a picture of me! Here's the page where the image is placed – it's the second photo from the top, a b/w shot of a kneeling woman…

A quick lesson in copyright law: this is illegal - not to mention morally reprehensible. To add insult to injury, she's thrown some kind of filter on it to make it appear blurry, and the size ratio is skewed, too - it's too wide.
I left an irate comment on the blog, but it's obvious the blog owner doesn't come around all that much - and I'm damned if I can find an email link for her on the page anywhere. Even more annoying, I can't even get to an email address for the webmaster to complain to them. At least, not without registering with the site, which I don't particularly want to do.
So, I will give a big wet kiss OR a smack on the ass OR an even nicer (digital) image of my nekkid self to any web guru who can track down a working email for either the blogger OR the webmaster of TheSuburbs.com. (Whose idea was that name, anyhow? Un-sexy.) Let your personal predilections and/or your geographical limitations be your guide. Caveat: the email you come up with must work - meaning: someone replies to it - in order for you to collect the reward. Good luck.

I'm too insanely-busy to write much…So I'll just present you with yet another Stupid Phone Call.

Ring ring!

Me: hello?
Caller: Hi, is this MAL-tiss-EE? I saw your ad in The Stranger.

I'm already stressed and edgy today, and this beginning doesn't dispose me kindly to the guy. How people can mangle my name so badly is really beyond me. It's one thing to mispronounce it, but adding in letters that aren't even there? Jesus. It's in 18-point type, for god's sake. And I know he can see - he got the phone number right, didn't he?

Me: My name is Mah-teece.
Caller: Oh, I was calling for Mal-tiss-ee, is she there?

Good Christ. I seriously toy with saying, "Yeah, hold on a minute" and just putting the phone down and leaving it.

Me: No, you're saying my name wrong. It's Mah-teece.
Caller: Oh! Oh, well…So, that's you in the picture, huh? You're really pretty.

The picture is about one and one-fourth inches long and three-fourths of an inch high, and while it is me, the fact is that it's so small that it could, actually, be Adam Sandler in drag, or a computer-generated avatar, or one of the Bush twins. So complimenting it is not an effective way to flatter me. Strike two, buddy.

Me: What is it that you're calling about?
Caller: Oh, I, uh, had a question.
Me: Okay. What is it?
Caller: Do you ever, like, uh, just go out on dates?

Now, I seriously doubt that this guy's just conducting a survey for the American Dating Council. But he doesn't even have the balls to ask me straightforwardly, and his use of oblique approach has set him up for the classic reply: "Yes. But not with you!"
Or I could say, "Why, yes I do, handsome! Why don't you meet me in the men's bathroom at Volunteer Park tonight about ten? Get in one of the stalls, take off all your clothes and wait for me!" …And then just let whatever adventures that might befall him unfold. Charming thought. It's the kind of object lesson that might give him a tiny glimmering of how excruciatingly asinine it is to call up random sex workers and ask them to date you.

But no - it's not really fair to the gentlemen who are there with sincere intentions. So instead I say...

Me: Why are you asking me this?
Caller: Oh, I don't know, I was just bored.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, has got to be the worst answer I have ever heard to such a question. I realize I am helpless in the face of such penetratingly gauche cluelessness, and thus, I do the only thing I can do.

Click. I hang up.

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...