More Emails From People Who Just Aren't Paying Attention

I am a 44 year old writer, philosopher, and psychotherapist, and I would enjoy taking you out for lunch and a nice conversation.

I'm sure you would, sweetie, but you seem to have confused my website with Match.com. It's amazing how many people seem to think I'm just starved for companionship and have oodles of free time to kill. Bwaha ha ha ha haaaa…
That one sentence was the entire email, by the way, except for his first name. Note to all the guys who've been living under rocks – this is not a winning strategy for meeting women.

I'm a 24 year old in Boston and I'm getting started in sex work. How much should I charge?

How on earth should I know? She doesn't even say what, exactly, she's going to be charging for, for gods sake. (And I'm only assuming this person is female, because I don't know that for sure, either.) Plus, she's on the other side of the country. Note to ladies looking for professional tips: Google the name of your city and phrases like "sex work" - or "escort", or "professional dominatrix", or whatever. But you need to find the local info.

And A Visit With The Word-Fetishist…

For no reason except that I want to... here are some amusing words and expressions that I've collected lately…

· sucking mud: Not working; crashed (said of a computer)
· 404: Relating to a person who is out of touch or clueless.
· banalysis: Analysis or reasoning that is commonplace, trivial, or trite.
· bozon: a whimsical unit of stupidity and cluelessness. A dumb person might be said to have a high "bozon" count.
· "a dog watching TV": idiom. A person who is viewing or working with something without understanding what it is or what it does.
· blandiose: relating to something that appears impressive or that has pretensions to grandeur, but that is actually bland
· frienemy: a friend who acts like an enemy; a fair-weather or untrustworthy friend.
· ignoranus: a person who is both stupid and extremely rude or obnoxious.
· talking hairdo: a television journalist who is superficial or who is concerned with appearance more than substance.

So, the Week Of Wickedness is continuing…I had an interesting event Monday night that I'll discuss at some future date, and then two days of relative quiet, during which I realized, "Oh shit, we're going to New York next week, and I'm not even close to being ready!" (Clients and friends, take note – Max and I will be away from the 22nd to the 29th.)

But I'm pausing in my preparations to go to The Grind with Roman later tonight - perhaps I'll see some friends there…

Meanwhile, the newest column is up, so please enjoy that…

From The MaleBag

greetings Mistress Matisse: my name is (DELETED). i am a 55 year old, white male who has been married for 30 years. i have seen dozens of Mistresses over the past 13 years, 2 of them as many as 3 times. i'm still looking for a Mistress who can keep Her panty slave - that's me -- busy while he is away from Her. i am a true panty slave. a true and very sincere panty slave!

This is a very typical email so far…Someone has told this guy that he about this lowercase i -uppercase Her/She convention, and I wish I could tell all the people who are propagating this notion to knock it off. It's not appropriate for an initial contact, and frankly, I find it foolish and affected.
I'm also already sure that I don't want to meet with this guy, because he's unwittingly trodden on a boundary of mine. The way I play is – when you're with me, your ass is mine. And when I let you go, you're a free man. I do communicate with my guys in between times about what we liked about our last session, and what we might do in the next, but I don't give them "homework". I find that if I do between-session dominance with people, it takes away from my energy for in-person play, so it's not on the menu.

You have probably heard this before, but, i am only interested in serving my Mistress and making Her happy.

Yeah, I have heard it before. And I'm profoundly skeptical.

She can tease the hell out of me and train me as She see's fit. There is nothing, NOTHING, that i would not do to please a Mistress who can keep Her slave’s mind on Her while he is away from Her.

I love how he switches from "I am only interested in making you happy" to setting out the conditions under which he wants to play.

She need not correspond with him, all She need do is give him a pair of Her panties, some instructions, and BAM! he is Her slave forever!

You know, if what he's saying is true, a trained monkey could be his mistress. I don't think I'd feel especially proud of myself for having achieved it. But I doubt it's true, or someone would have done it by now.

After all of my experiences, i have written many stories about a fictional Mistress named Jessica, and sent them to past Mistresses. this has led me to understand why i haven't seen any one more than 3 times. in my fiction, She (Jessica) understands me personally, whereas a real Mistress doesn't. i hope i don't sound like a sick-o, but i am getting to old to keep searching for a Mistress Who can keep Her slave's continually thinking of Her.

Hmmn, it's hard to say from this whether the ladies fired him or vice-versa. But anytime someone tells me he's seen lots of pro dommes and none of them were able to fulfill his fantasy, that's a red flag. There a lot of bad pro dommes out there - but there are good ones, too, and odds are he's seen at least a couple. That line about "understands me personally" makes me speculate that what he really wants is a mind-reader. I don't think he's "a sick-o" - honey, if only you knew! - but I do think he's likely to be the type of client who only wants to actually come in about twice a year, but who wants to talk on the phone frequently, or trade a lot of email, about how he's carrying out his "instructions" - all for free, of course. Sorry, if you want phone or email training, find a lady who does that and pay her. I prefer my play face-to-face.

it is easy enough to do, and i can think of dozens of ways to keep them content while away, for example, She could use the following: "here are 2 pairs of panties slave-boy. you are to wear a pair during your trip, keeping one packed separately. when you arrive at your hotel you will strip to your panties and crawl into the bath tub. looking at My picture, urinate into the panties and then, when completely finished, stuff them into you mouth and such them dry. when done, remove them, nipple clip your titties, and masturbate into your panties. after squezzing out every last drop of slut cum, put the panties back into your mouth and clean them again. lastly, slave-boy, rinse them out for tomorrow and put on the fresh pair for bedtime. continue switching each night while you are away. receive My blessing for many pleasant dreams My slut and slave. I will see you again soon, and you will report to Me how devtoed you have become to My will."
Your would-be panty slave…

Well, I don't think he's a bad person – but I think he wants a lot more than he's admitting. Like I said – anyone could do this, and if he's seen dozens of pro dommes and no one will, either a) he's lying or b) he thinks he's telling the truth, but he is grossly understimating the level of emotional energy he wants from a pro domme.
Better luck elsewhere, panty-man.

"Only good girls keep diaries. Bad girls don't have the time." Tallulah Bankhead.

Tallulah sure got that right. Not that anyone would mistake my normal routine for that of a good girl, you understand. But I'm way behind on writing about the Week Of Wickedness. It's already Tuesday and I still haven't talked about Saturday, something I will now rectify...

My plan for last Saturday night was somewhat tricky. I wanted to take both Roman and Jake to a private play-party I'd been invited to. A small test of my agility as a poly person – and theirs as well.

Don't misunderstand me – I didn't want to take them both as my dates. I don't think I have the ability to split my focus that way.

But when I'm dating someone, I like to incorporate them into my social life, and I felt that both the host and hostess, and the other guests, were people that both Roman and Jake should meet, as a way of broadening their BDSM social horizons.

I decided that I would take Jake as my official date, and I asked Roman and his lovely partner, together, if they'd like to come. If this sounds slightly weird to you, it's because it is. But I was relying on both Jake and Roman to be the ultra-cool guys that they are and make the arrangement work out.

And it did. I arranged for a group of the guests to meet up at Septieme for dinner before the party, which went well. I had a small "o-kay" moment when Jake and I arrived at the restaurant and found that we would be the second couple to sit down at the large table – the first being Roman and his wife.

But it was totally fine. The four of us chatted easily, other guests trickled in, and it was just all soooo civilized. Both Roman and Jake told me later that they thought the other, "a cool guy".

As I looked around the table I amused myself drawing a mental chart of "who's involved with who right now, who used to be involved with who, and who'd like to be involved with who". It was a fairly complex diagram – there are certainly monogamous people in the BDSM community, but when I think about it, most of my friends are poly to some degree or other. And yes, it's a rather incestuous community. It's rare to for me to meet an actively kinky person in Seattle who hasn't dated someone I know - usually several someones.

After dinner we went on to the party, which was a small, intimate gathering of less than twenty people. It was nice – one actually gets to talk to people at small parties, unlike the monster affairs Max and I tend to throw where we wind up with a hundred people at the house. Jake and I didn't play, but we watched some cute girls – and a cute boy - get pierced for the first time. And another lovely friend of mine got some stripes on her back and butt, courtesy of Malixe.

A charming evening with many of my favorite friends…

WOW

I'm busy drafting a Stranger column, and frankly, I'm a little wiped out from my busy weekend. But I wanted to at least start telling you about the last few days…

You see, Max is out of town right now. Every year he takes a driving trip down to California, because Max is something of a driving enthusiast. By which I mean: he likes to drive fast. Now, he's better qualified to do that than many people: He's got the expensive high performance car, and what's more important, he's also got a fair amount of professional drivers training and a lot of practice at the local track. Max is a damn good driver.

So he goes out and zooms around the mountain passes of California for a week, and I wish him a fond farewell, but I don't go on these trips with him. I'm too…well, you can call it "chicken", but I prefer to call it "a finely tuned sense of self-preservation". Either way, I just don't like driving at high speeds along twisty mountain roads. Hell, just driving around town with him, I all but wear a hole in his passenger-side carpet where the brake pedal should be. (Not that I drive like a little old lady myself, you understand. But that's different.)

The result is that Max takes Maura along on these trips, and I am left to amuse myself alone at home. Gee, I wonder what I'll do? Dum de dum de dum…Well, I wonder if I should arrange back-to-back, hot-and-cold-running boys, sex and debauchery all week long. Do you think that would be a good idea?

Yeah, I did too. So Roman and I have been referring to this as Matisse's Week of Wickedness - or WOW for short.

WOW KickOff: Friday Night - Roman and I attended one of the Little Red Studio parties. Jeff, the mastermind of LRS, is a friend of mine, and while I've been once before, it had been awhile. It's an unconventional and entertaining event, impossible to describe succinctly. The phrase "interactive sexual performance art" comes to mind, although none of the performers actually have sex.

I'd say that some of the fine points were lost on Roman and I, however – we found each other more interesting than the (indisputably attractive and talented) performers. Still, we did make a contribution to the evening. At one point, audience members are given little cards with suggestive acts written on them, and invited to perform those acts onstage. Some of them were things like "Make someone's nipples hard", and "Leave bite marks on someone". But Roman's read "Command someone to do your bidding". He needed no second invitation - Mr. Show Business sprung into character, pulled a sweet young thing out the shadows, and commanded her to kiss first the heel of my boot, and then the back of my knee, both of which she did quite nicely.

And she must have enjoyed it, because when her turn came, she read off her card in a trembling voice, "Invite your favorite sadist to spank you." And then she knelt down and looked across the room at me. "Mistress?" I bent her over a table and gave her twelve good strokes, and her firmly curved ass fit nicely into my hand.

As you may infer, Jeff has definitely created something unusual here, so if you're looking for some unique erotic entertainment, I'd check it out.

It certainly made for a charming few hours of verbal (and a little physical) foreplay for Roman and I – to be followed by several hours of the fulfillment of that foreplay. Delightful.

After that, there was only time for me to snatch a few hours of sleep before the next weekend event: Jake, dinner at Septieme, and a private party with my friends, all of which I'll tell you about presently.

I'm rather busy this weekend - and I don't mean I'm doing housework, or writing, or visiting elderly shut-ins for charity. I mean I am having a weekend of nasty, kinky sexual decadence, and oooh, I got off to a great start last night. (Roman, there seems to be a broken clothespin in my bed. Would you know anything about that?)

So, perhaps I'll talk more about that later, but now I have only a very short time before my next date, and much to do.

But I did run across something I know all of my regular readers will appreciate. When I read it, I felt so…validated. Not that I'm especially needing that, but it’s nice when you read something and think to yourself,"Yes, my sister, yes! I'm not the only one who gets the freaks with no money!"

Politics, Sex, Food, Silliness, and A Public Service Announcement


Oh, this is kinky: Bush Feels OB-GYNs Are Kept From 'Practicing Their Love'.

An impressive diatribe from Garrison Keillor about the Republican party.

A good article about legalizing prostitution from, of all places, The Economist.

Monk is looking for San Francisco restaurant recommendations...

If you've ever read any of the John Norman "Gor" book, and you haven't read this, you must. You really, really must. But don't drink anything while you do, because you'll spit it all over your keyboard. Houseplants Of Gor!



On a serious note...This week I got the second in a series of injections to vaccinate me against hepatitis A and hepatitis B. Like HIV, both these strains of hepatitis can be sexually transmitted, they are very serious diseases, and they can be fatal. And unlike HIV, which is a pretty fragile virus and can't survive for long outside a human body, the hep viruses are very hardy and can live outside someone's body for a long time and still infect someone.

The good news is that they are both entirely preventable. I'm getting the shots specifically because a) I have more than one sexual partner, and b) I touch other people's bodies as part of my job. I think anyone who falls into either of those categories should go, without delay, and start the series themselves. Even if you do just recreational BDSM - not sex - with a lot of different people, you should get vaccinated, especially if you you do bloodsports. In fact, I think everyone should seriously consider getting this done. Look at it this way: unless you have a specific medical contraindication, why would you not? Hep isn't just sexually transmitted - you can catch it from a foodhandler's unwashed fingers. Why take a chance if you don't have to? I procrastinated about doing this way too long, and I'm glad I'm taking care of it now. (Thank you, Max, for continuing to nag me about this, and setting me a good example by doing it yourself.)

Here are some links to more info about hepatitis, and about how to get vaccinated. Please, please, protect yourselves...

About Hepatitis A
FAQs about Viral Hepatitis B

Low-cost vaccination in King County If you live elsewhere, please contact your primary care physician or the local health department.

Me, Max and Strippers

Si reminds me that I promised to talk about Max's latest visit to a strip club…

It happened like this - Max and I usually schedule our dates with our secondaries on the same night. But one night a few weeks ago, I had a date and he didn't. So, being a guy of many resources, he decided to amuse himself by going to a strip club.
Now I wouldn't say Max used to go to strip clubs a lot – but let's say that he was not a stranger to them in days gone by. (Neither was I, of course, but I was on the other side of the rail. And no, that is not where we met!)
So anyway, Max goes along to a local place, gets an overpriced cup of coffee and looks over the available ladies. He settles on one, and when she makes the approach, ("Would you like a dance?") he says yes.
He gets a dance from her, and then afterwards she sits down to chat with him a little.
Presently she asks, "So, are you married?" I don't know why a dancer would ask anyone that, but he says they often do. I myself always tried to avoid reminding guys of the wife and kids at home, figuring it would just spoil the mood.
He said no, he wasn't, but that he had a girlfriend. As a matter of fact, his girlfriend used to be a dancer herself.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"That's interesting. What does she do for a living now?"
Ah, that is the question, isn't it? Max had had to field this query unexpectedly before, of course, as have I. So he debates with himself for a second and then thinks, well, if you can't tell a stripper, who can you tell?
"She's a professional dominatrix."
She stared at him. "Not Mistress Matisse? Omigod, are you Max?"

(At this point, as he was telling me the story, I absolutely broke up laughing. "You can run, baby, but you can't hide," I said, gasping. "I have eyes everywhere.")

She went on to say that she'd read all my columns and she thought I was great. It's always nice to hear that, even second-hand. Sometimes especially second-hand.
"So, wow, you scored major John points!" I said. "Did you get some better dances from her after that?"
"Well, yeah," he said, smiling wickedly. "I tied up her hands and had her dance for me like that."
"Tied up her hands? With what? Did you take rope in there?"
"No, just my handkerchief."
I did not laugh. Max has tied up my hands with his handkerchief and you know, it's been pretty damn effective. He's done whole bondage scenes with me with just what we had on us – belts, bootlaces, the hanky, my bra – whatever. Max, the Improvisational Bondage Top.
"Sounds like she's a little kinky herself," I said.
"Well, she's at least curious."
She offered him her phone number, and instead he gave her his and said, "I imagine you have a lot of guys calling you. If you want to talk to me, you call me."
Thus far she hasn't, and Max isn't exactly holding his breath. But I was highly amused by the whole thing…

I Couldn't Make This Stuff Up

From the mailbag...

… I know you must be very busy and your time very precious to you, but I plead with you to please listen to my plight.
I am an 18 year old white male who grew up and is still living in Kansas. Just to give you an idea of who you are talking to. I am about 6'3" and weigh about 145. I have brown hair, my eye color is blue, green, or a mix in between, depending on the day, and I am married with no kids. I have had an extreme passion and lust for bdsm since I was a little boy, but thought I was just a freak until my early teenage years when I started to discover a few things on the internet. Then I realized that the emotions and desires I have aren't experienced only by me. Then I got married to a wonderful, gorgeous wife that loves me immensely. However, she doesn't share my feelings towards bdsm at all. I don't think I can live without it.

So far, this is a very typical email for me to get. That doesn't mean I necessarily believe anything it says is true, you understand. For example, no way do I think the writer is really just 18. But it doesn't matter, since it's already obvious that he's not a potential client. I'm just reading it for the entertainment value.

So, I've been looking for somebody that is very familiar with the bdsm world who would like to make a very small money investment that is 100% guaranteed to return to them 10 times whatever they spend on the investment.

Oh, now this is different. He is starting to sound a bit like one of those Nigerian email scammers.

The investment is to come to Kansas and take me to their home where I would be their slave 24/7/365 truly to be used in any way my owner desired whether it be chores around the house/yard or of the intimate nature or both, whatever the owner wants.

I've been to Kansas, and I can see why he wants to leave. But I wonder if I'd have to dress up like a witch?

Of course I wouldn't be able to get a job at that point because I would be considered missing due to the "kidnapping".

What? Oh, this is nice. He doesn't think he can live without BDSM, but he wouldn't be willing to actually take responsibility for leaving his wonderful, gorgeous wife that loves him immensely. He thinks I should put myself in the way of seeming to commit a felony – a federal crime, you'll note, since I'll be taking him across state lines – to have him as my slave. Not to mention the small matter of completely supporting him…
But wait, it gets better.

The owner's part of the investment is just to pay for and arrange for a full male to female sex change on me. Which consists of hormonal treatment, electrolysis, sexual reassignment surgery, breast augmentation, cosmetic surgery, voice surgery, adams apple shave, and labiaoplasty. Which comes to a total of 10,000 to 30,000 dollars spread out over about a 2 to 3 year period depending on where you go to get the operations done. Of course it would have to be only the best surgeons in order for me to not look like some science experiment afterwards.

Wow. The grandiose sweep of it - it's kind of breathtaking, isn’t it? I've had some amazingly bizarre offers in my time, but this ranks right up there at the top. This guy puts every gold-digger I have ever known in the shade as far as sheer gall is concerned. "Hi, I'd like you to remove me from my presently boring life, take me into your home, feed, clothe and house me, and fulfill my sexual fantasies. In return for this, I will fold laundry and weed the yard - when I'm not in bed recovering from my many expensive surgeries, that is, during which time I'll need to waited on hand and foot. Oh wait, I can't go outside and weed the yard, Mistress, because my picture is on a milk carton! Sorry…"
He also gets a prize for The Least-Researched Sexual Fantasy. Thirty grand for all the male-to-female sex reassignment surgeries he mentions? Yeah, maybe in Thailand, where I understand it's something of a small industry. But for "only the best surgeons" in the US, it would cost way more than that. And besides, you cannot "arrange" for someone else to have anything like this done. The person in question has to see therapists and get letters for the surgeons - there are all kinds of bureaucratic hoops to jump through.

Once I am completely female I would first go and become a citizen of the U.S. in my new body and begin modeling for porn sites. I yearn so much to be used like that and tortured on porn sites.

And how, pray tell, does he think he's going to change his identity from male to female without someone looking at his existing paperwork and saying, "Hey, are you that guy who got kidnapped in Kansas?" He seems to think he's going to get a new birth certificate or something.
He also seems to think he's somehow guaranteed to wind up looking like Jenna Jameson. Now, I've met some tranny girls who were very beautiful. And I've met some who…weren't. They can do great things with cosmetic surgery these days, but bone structure, for example, cannot be drastically altered.

I would continue to be a slave of my owner for the period it would take to pay back 10 times whatever it cost to do all the things involved in changing my gender. All of my income would go directly to my owner until I payed my owner back completely upon which time I am free.

It's sort of medieval, isn't it? Indentured servitude. I haven't bothered to actually run the numbers for what kind of money he's talking about here, but I have a feeling it would take a looooooong time for him to pay me ten times what he owed me for everything.

I bet you here schemes like this all the time. You being such a beautiful lady and so sensible and intelligent.

Oh, no, honey, you are quite unique, I assure you. And yes, I am sensible and intelligent. They say opposites attract.

I just wish it could not be a dream, but become a reality. I would be very obliged to receive your advice on my situation. Is something like what I want even possible? I am so anxious to hear from you, but I am patient at the same time.

So I read all this, I laughed disbelievingly, I forwarded it to Max, listened to him laugh from his office down the hall, and then I put it in my "Wacko Emails" folder and dismissed it from my mind. People like this are getting off on sending their fantasies out into the world, and they don't really expect an answer.
But here's the kicker – this guy actually wrote me again about a week later, asking me if I'd had time to consider his offer!
I didn't respond to that one either.
He wrote again!
Amazing. Simply amazing. So I sent him a one-line "No thank you" email, and I haven't heard back from him.
So if you're a wonderful, gorgeous woman in Kansas and you're missing a husband, don't call me.

An encouraging quote from a gentleman calling himself Sir William...

There are 2,500,000 people in the Seattle metro area. Of those, 10% are alternative. Of those 250,000 alternative people 10% are attractive. Of those 25,000 attractive alternative people certainly at least 10% are in the mood for fooling around. That should leave you with 2,500 potential playmates.

Perhaps I should have this printed on the back of the business cards for my (entirely mythical!) match-making business.

It's incumbent upon me, as a highly visible representative of the BDSM community, to remember to be tolerant – in public, at least - of other people's way of expressing their kink. I will not always understand it or agree with it, but it's important to try to give them the respect I want for myself.

But my god, this kind of thing really makes me want to hurl.

The Submissives Prayer
allow me the strength to answer questions i cant fathom,
allow me the spirit to know His needs,
allow me the kindness to choke back retorts,
allow me the serenity to serve Him in peace,
allow me the love to show Him myself,
allow me the tenderness to comfort Him,
allow me the light to show U/us the way,
allow me the wisdom to be an asset to Him,
let me show Him each day, my love of my service to Him,
let me open myself up to completely belong to Him,
let my eyes show Him the same respect, whether i sit at His side, or kneel at His feet.
let me accept my punishment with grace of a woman,
let me learn to please Him beyond myself.

I found this on a male-dom BDSM discussion list. (Hence the capitalized male pronouns and the "with grace of a woman" line.) The woman who posted it thought it was, "so beautiful and so true". I was polite and did not say that to me, this looks like nothing so much as a codependents to-do list. I always try to be polite in other people's spaces.

But this is my space, so: Jesus H, what the fuck with this kind of shit? The Submissives Prayer? This reads like something composed by Phyllis Schlafly for the Southern Baptist Convention. They could engrave it on little lacquered plaques and sell them at church socials.

And to whom, exactly, are we praying? There seems to be an eerie kind of fluidity in perception here – it almost reads like the dominant is god. That's fucking spooky.

No one on the list in question responded with a prayer for dominants, which I found significant. Although now that I think about it, I'm sure someone could compose one of those that I'd find equally appalling.

Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be kind and serene and tender and respectful. Those are all good traits to bring to any relationship - when they're used wisely.

And while it's not my bag, I know a few people who are engaged in a relationship where one person considers themselves to be owned by the other, and that's how they like it.

But for a submissive/slave to afford their dominant this god-like status…well, I don't think that's generally healthy.

I'm a pervert, people - a big ol' sexual pervert. I do nasty things to people because it makes me wet. There is no other good reason to do BDSM. This sickly-sweet little paean sounds like it was written by someone who was desperately trying to pretty up and smooth over the sticky sexual reality of what BDSM is about by making it sound like some kind of personal-growth regimen. But I sure as hell don't want anyone praying to me, the idea of anyone praying about me makes me extremely uneasy, and I think the notion of anyone praying to be a better pervert is just fucking weird.

Postscript: an alert reader has turned up a webpage with a very similar version of the above "prayer" with a copyright on it. Being the respectful artist that I am, I will now note that here - Author: Screamer © 1996

The Naked Truth

It'll come as shock to you all, I know – but in truth, it must to be said: Roman is actually not a well-behaved submissive.

That shouldn't come as a surprise to me, considering he's not really bottomed to anyone before. And considering that while he usually displays the breezy self-confidence of Bill Clinton, his overall respect for convention seems to hover around the Jim Carey level.

So I really need to remind myself of all this when I'm setting up a scene where it's my turn to top him. You see, there's a skill that every socially active dominant should have at their fingertips, and that is the art of the Playfully Threatening Remark. The Playfully Threatening Remark can be just a line that you toss off to someone you're flirting with, or it can be something you say to someone when you're setting up an actual play date. Context and tone of voice are key to the perfect delivery of The Playfully Threatening Remark.

Examples of the Playfully Threatening Remark:
"Oh, you really shouldn't bend over like that unless you mean it."
"You don't have to get undressed in front of anyone else for a couple of days, right?"
"I wonder how long you could hold your breath under water?"

Now, a Good and True Submissive responds to Playfully Threatening Remarks with appropriate levels of pleasant trepidation and wiggly nervousness. The level will obviously be slight if it's just some offhand teasing among casual acquaintances. But it is my considered opinion that the level of respect for even a Playfully Threatening Remark should be a little higher when, say, you're asking a woman who is well known for being a nasty, vicious sadist, "What time should I be there for our date, and is there anything special I should do/bring/wear?"

Roman seems to be of a different opinion about this. When he asked me that question, I took a leaf from Mel Brookes' script and replied, "Don't wear anything…complicated."
"Complicated?"
"Yeah. Oh, and maybe you should tell your wife to write your name and address on a note and pin it to your clothes, in case you're so fucked up afterwards you get lost trying to find your way home. Mwah hah hah hah haaaaa!"

Clearly a Playfully Threatening Remark. Roman should have showed up wearing button-fly jeans, a T shirt and an appropriately nervous expression.

But no.

The night of the date: Right on time, the doorbell rings. I stride over, boots thumping intimidatingly on the wooden floor, throw open the door, and what do I find on my porch?

Roman. Wearing a pair of black boots, and a black knee-length cape. And that's all.

Oh, except for a huge how-could-anyone-not-think-I'm-cute? grin. "You said not to wear anything complicated!"

It's really hard to maintain an appropriately Mistress-y demeanor when you're cracking up laughing. It's also hard to establish an erotic power imbalance by staying clothed while making someone else strip down, when they show up already naked.

"Oh, and look at my ass!" I'd planned on doing that anyhow, so I did. Written neatly in black felt-tip pen on Roman's left butt cheek is the instruction -

If Found Please Return To:
…followed by his name and address.

I think you've all heard the term "smartass" before? This was a whole new level of smartass.

So, that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am quite certain that Roman is not a Good Submissive. And I would know, because I'm actually not a Good Submissive myself…


Oh…and we did have an absolutely fabulous time. Did I mention that?

Jam packed day today – first, the Steve O interview and then a fast draft of the material, then I have a session with a client, followed by a quick meeting with my kinky carpenter – it's time for some new dungeon furniture – and then dash home to edit and polish the Steve O piece, then later, a date with Roman that I've been looking forward to…

So I'll probably be out till god-knows-when being decadent with him, and get about four hours sleep before I get up early Friday morning to do a once-over on the Steve O piece and send it off the The Stranger. And then I get to see one of my favorite clients, Milo, and then I go to dinner with Max and another couple we know, and after dinner I go off to meet Miss K at the Wet Spot women's party, because she's in cruising mode, and I'm there to offer her my immoral support.

And Max and I are planning to go out to the Wet Spot campout for the afternoon on Saturday, but you know, he may have to carry me, because just looking at that all-fun-stuff-but-majorly-busy schedule makes me a little limp.

I can see my future, and it involves several cans of Rock Star energy drink…

Meeting of the Minds
The good people at The Stranger have asked me to write a piece about crazy-ass performance artist/stuntman Steve O, former star of the MTV show, "Jackass", who's doing a show here on the 9th. They think, as someone who also enjoys doing physically intense stuff, that I'd bring a special POV to it.

I'm now researching this guy as fast as I can, because I've never seen him perform, and in fact, I'd never heard of him until this came up. But from what I'm seeing on the web, he seems to be a rather interesting fellow…And his publicist is overnighting me a DVD of his, so that should educational.

So, my question is: is Steve O a masochist? I mean, the shit he does to himself – or has other people do - wow, it's pretty extreme. Most BDSM people I know would not do most of his stunts. (Including me, for the record.)

However, one of his most well-publicized stunts is him stapling himself – specifically, he staples his scrotum to his leg. I do know a few folks who engage in, as they call it, erotic stapling. (That's a phrase you don't hear every day, isn't it?) I wonder if Steve O would let someone else staple him, or he prefers to stay in control of that? I did find an interview with him where he mentions having Gen from the Genitorturers help him nail his scrotum to his thigh. I wonder if he liked that?

I'm doing a phone interview with him tomorrow at noon – so stay tuned for updates on that…

Thanks a whole bunch for all the cool hotel suggestions, folks, I think we've now got something lined up. But you were all extremely helpful!

Let's go on into...

Books I'm reading…

Beyond Defensive Tactics: Advanced Concepts, Techniques, and Tricks for Cops on the Street, by Loren Christensen. Judging by his remarks, I'm guessing Mr. Christensen and I would not make ideal dining companions. Like many cops I've met, his experiences in the line of duty have not enhanced his overall view of humanity. Small wonder - cops do a job not many of us would want to do, and they certainly deal with people I would not wish to deal with. But then this book is published by Paladin Press, which is - how shall one say? - a rather specialized publishing house. Don't expect anything warm and fuzzy out of Paladin Press.
As the title states, this book is written for cops. But some of his philosophy about mental readiness and suggestions about types of physical self-defense are very applicable to regular citizens as well. It's sprinkled with some of Mr. Christensen's personal-experience stories, which make it read easily. This book reminds me of my as-yet-unrealized desire to take up some form of martial arts.

The Shifting Tide, by Anne Perry. I'm hooked on both of Perry's historical detective lines.

The Map That Changed the World: William Smith and the Birth of Modern Geology, by Simon Winchester. This is the story of William Smith, the orphaned son of an English country blacksmith, who created the world's first geological map and ultimately became the father of modern geology. This author has a knack for making you feel like you know the people he's writing about, which means everything he writes is interesting.

The Burglar on the Prowl, by Lawrence Block. More light fiction. I've faithfully followed this series from Mr. Block for years. Frankly, it's not what it used to be – the earlier "Burglar" books were much better in terms of plotting and believability. But I continue to buy them just because the main characters have become friends of mine, and also because, as a writer, I want to study the style. I like Mr. Block's touch with dialogue, and he's a real smoothie with those expository transitions – something I find particularly troublesome when I write.

New York City People, Help Me!
Max and I are going to be in town in late September and we're looking for a cool hotel, preferably on the Upper West Side. We had some recommendations, but The Olcott Hotel went residential, The Beacon Hotel is full, and I can't get The Excelsior Hotel to answer the frickin' phone. I'm considering The Gershwin, although it's more downtown.
So I'm looking for suggestions - preferably something with small suites/a kitchenette, and reasonably priced. We don't mind a something a little off-beat or faded as long as it's clean and safe and convenient.

I just never know what I'm going to find in my email...Sometimes it's something very sweet that I enjoy reading, like this note from Vermont, one of my favorite boys -

I would like to tell you what a wonderful time I had with you. It was just so comfortable and connecting as well as incredibly hot (and not just on my ass!). I really appreciate how far you have helped me grow into my masochistic
self. You are always so welcoming and understanding of my nature, taking me to
new places and always looking out for my best interest.
I just loved the way you really laid into me with that flogger! I could see how
satisfying it was for you to give it your all without having to hold back. Very
nice for us both. Glad I have such a tough old hide or I'd miss out on seeing
you have such a good time!
I absolutely flew to, and kissed the sky when you hooked me up to that electrical unit! Wow! Zappo! Carumba! The look of fire was in your eye as you lifted me up and took a sip of the shell of my soul. I felt like a mirror, showing you your own beautiful sadistic self. I felt young and full of strength as I flexed and writhed under your caring command. Thank you for telling me that you liked me touching your back while you worked your magic…it's very connecting. I would like to continue exploring that avenue of sweet surrender. It really seems like it is a way that you can walk right up and pluck the precious fruits of my soul and taste them. Very delicious as you offer me a taste at the same time.
I had the best time yet kissing your feet. Something about having writhed for you (and me, no doubt!) brought me to a place where I wanted to communicate the sense of love I felt as your dear pet, and may I say, as a friend. I know you could tell. My heart was opened by your, shall we say, electrifying ministrations. I see that you trust me and for that I am grateful.

And then I get things like this, which manages to evoke both a little pity and a certain amount of distaste in me, since what he's describing is just so not my thing ...

Hello, I am (DELETED), formerly named by my previous Mistress since 1976. I finally refused an order after 27years and was left to die. I have many problems to overcome, including finding a true Mistress I can devote 24 hours/7 days a week to. She chose another and I felt abandoned after all. Is there a Mistress who will take me and not abandon me? I know nothing about you but assure you that my only wish is to be completely controlled by my woman no matter what it takes! It is who I am. I am 49 years old, still attractive, with body hair that needs to be removed and the brand that needs to be imprinted for the superior female I long for! I pray to know you! Please respond, if I am worthy! I am searching long and hard for the right female to totally degrade myself for and fall in love with. If this is not you, will you refer me to the proper superior female? I thought I found the right one but I failed or could not live to her standards. I am very unhappy
due to this-but I can change nothing-but serve another. I am feminine in nature and prefer to be feminized and made to be a maid. If this does not
please you, scold me! I prefer to be on my knees-and licking my queen's
fountain of knowledge! In my previous experience, it has been my greatest joy! My income and all my service belong to my new Queen. I will proudly serve if no sex is available. However, I beg to service your pussy with my tongue! It is my greatest pleasure-particularly in panties and bra and under the strictest bondage! If this is not your pleasure, then chastise me in your strongest words! I wish to give all of me to the right woman! Please forgive this humble slut!Please tell me what you
demand!
Humbly Yours…

Better luck elsewhere...What you're seeking isn't here.

Sunday Morning: The dungeon looks like a rope bomb went off – there are hemp lines dangling from the ceiling, from points in the walls, and there are many small piles of rope scattered around on the floor. On top of the bondage table, electrical wires twist like Laocoon's snakes around some rounded cylindrical metal objects. And a slender rod - a cane, in fact - lies on the carpet, doing its best to look innocent, and failing signally.

It looks like someone had a very good time down there…

I made an flip remark in a post Tuesday about not running a dating service. It's true, I'm not. But sometimes I amuse myself thinking about doing just that.

It would be a highly selective service, this fantasy business of mine, and I'd only accept clients who I felt displayed the utmost sincerity in their desires. Maybe I'd even audition each client by playing with them, just so I'd really be able to tell prospective match-ups all about them. Finding the right person might take a while, but eventually, I'd hook them up with the pervy partner of their dreams.

I'd able to tell all the sweet single submissive men who are looking for a Mistress how to present themselves, how to charm and delight her in that first meeting, what to say, what to do, how to win her. And I'd know how to attract single dominant women to my business, because, after all, I've been one.

But it wouldn't just be Mistresses and male submissives - I'd take all kinds of clients. Dominant or submissive, male or female, whatever. As long as you're kinky and you met my requirements, I'd do my best to find you a partner.

But my requirements would be stringent. For starters, you'd have to be at least somewhat active in the BDSM community, because I think it keep our kink in perspective to be around other perverts on a regular basis. You learn that you are neither the biggest and baddest, nor the smallest and meekest. You learn that everyone starts out not knowing shit, everyone makes mistakes, and everyone's kink evolves and mutates over the years.

I'd probably reserve the right to demand a fashion and grooming makeover, if I felt the situation called for it.

There would be a reading list of BDSM theory, history, and famous fiction, and maybe even a written test on these things.

(It is not lost on me that these three requirements are also things I set out as rules when I take on a personal submissive. I may be a control-queen, but hey, I'm a self-aware control-queen.)

Whatever your preferences might be, you would have to pass a basic competency test in that arena.

And I think registered Republicans would pay double, because finding a partner might lead to them having children, and I feel that there should be some kind of environmental impact fee for that.

There's only one small problem with this appealing fantasy: I'd go bankrupt, because there's no money in this. But it's a lovely idea, and I'd be very, very good at it. I mean, it's quite similar to what I do now: I have a select clientele, I get people to tell me about who they are, and what their desires are, and then, working together, we fulfill those desires.

But I swear I must have been a matchmaker in a former life. Even now, I've got a femme lesbian friend, a top, who's looking for a butch bottom, and I'm going to be helping her with that…And I know two other pretty women who are looking for dominant men, and I think of them when I meet toppy guys sometimes, wondering, Hmmn, would she like him? Maybe I should introduce him to her…

So that's one of my fantasy careers – running a kinky matchmaker service.

I had a busy day today - one client earlier, and the gym in the evening, but the afternoon in between was devoted to...shopping.
Even though I am a somewhat girly-girl, I don't always like shopping for clothes. I have to be in the mood. And today I was, apparently, because I spent a fair amount of money.
But I got cool things - boots, and a cute jacket, and a bunch of other stuff. There's a big pile o' Nordstrom bags in the bedroom!
So, be sure to go read the newest column, which is a thinly-veiled account of a party I went to over the weekend. See if you can spot one of the blog-comment regulars in the piece...
And also, everyone please go over to Monk's blog and read the really wonderfully sweet piece he's written about his wife. It's their anniversary tomorrow.