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The Sticky Question
An Instructional Tale....

Once upon a time, a young man came to see me for the first time. He was slightly nervous, which is only natural, and I tried to make him feel at ease. He told me he wanted a foot-worship session, so we spent an hour together primarily engaged in that pleasant activity. I'd been wearing my spike-heeled thigh-high boots for over two hours straight already, I told him, and so my feet were quite ready for some sensual attention. We also did a little soft flogging and some bondage, but our time together was primarily about his mouth on my feet.
But I love having my feet kissed and touched, so I enjoyed myself, and it was, ahem, quite clear that he was enjoying himself also. And at the end of the hour, well – let's just say he demonstrated his pleasure fully.

So that was all very nice. But then afterwards, as I was walking him towards the door, he stopped and said, "So, um, can I ask you a question?"

I smiled. "Yes, what is it?"

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I don't wanna be rude or anything."

I didn't like the sound of that. In another setting, I would have known instantly what he was going to ask me, because I've heard it before. But asking me The Question wouldn't make any sense in this context. I waited for him to continue.

"So, like – have you been tested?"

Tested? I thought. For what, athlete's foot?

Look, I came of sexual age in the time of AIDS. I have no experience of a sex life that didn't include that risk. Other STDs are serious, too. So it's not like I don't understand worrying about such things. I'm right there, baby.

I take my maintaining my health – including my sexual health - quite seriously. I get tested on a regular basis, and I've also been vaccinated against hepatitis, which many people aren't, although everyone should be. And I've done something equally important: I've educated myself about what STDs are out there and how one can, and cannot, catch them - something this boy didn't seem like he had done.

I raised one eyebrow and said, slowly, "Honey – you kissed my feet. You're not going to get an STD doing that."*

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I was just wondering…" He looked at me, clearly still wanting an answer.

"All right...Yes, I've been tested, and I'm a completely healthy person. But you know what? The smart time for you to ask someone that question is before you do anything with them. Because what are you going do if I tell you no, I haven't been? And what would you do now if I actually told you I had an STD? Not that anyone would tell you. Why should they? If they're immoral enough to knowingly expose you to an STD, they're sure as hell immoral enough to lie about it."

I was talking about it with Miss K later, and she shook her head. "Yeah, I hate it when they do that, it scares me. Even when it's before we do anything. It makes me wonder how careless they'd be with someone if she convinced them she was 'clean'. I always say something like, "Yes, I've been tested, and I'm perfectly healthy. But you know what – you shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't take some strange person's word for something as important as this. You need to decide what level of risk is okay for you, and you should be careful and take precautions. And if you cannot afford to take any risk whatsoever, you should not be doing this, because even with precautions, nothing is 100% guaranteed."

"I see what you're saying," I said. "But still, part of what annoyed me about this situation was that he waited until afterwards. I hate it when someone comes to see me, asks me to do something, and then afterwards freaks out about what he's done and tries to act like it was all my doing, and he didn't really want it. I think asking that question afterwards is as much about projecting some generalized anxiety as it is about STDs."

She grimaced. "Yeah, the not-taking-responsibility thing is bad. I don't recall ever forcing someone to go down on me at gunpoint. If you decide to do that, it's your choice."

"Amazing how someone's perspective changes after they've had their orgasm, isn't it?"




* Medical note: I am aware that while it would be highly, highly unusual, it's not flat-out impossible for someone to catch something from foot-kissing. Hepatitis, for example, can live outside a person's body for some time, and if I'd somehow gotten hep germs on the skin of my feet, he could have licked them off and...
But realistically, I think you're in more danger from unwashed fruit, sticky public-restroom doorknobs or food handlers with dirty fingers.

You know how I said sex work had busy weeks and slow weeks? This would be a busy one. So while I'm off making hay, enjoy these kinky links...

A story sent to me by blog reader Lief : Porn Club at UW. How delightful.


Carol Leigh, aka The Scarlot Harlot, is teaching "Whore College" in San Francisco. That woman rocks.

I haven't had time to look over this "slave training" site, but I have seen references to it on some BDSM discussion lists I'm on. If anyone with time to kill wants to scope it out and give me their two cents, I'm listening.

And in keeping with the educational theme for the day, I remembered lately that my friend Cleo DuBois does teach classes in how to become a pro domme. Cleo is a charming woman and a well-respected dominant, and while I haven't met the co-instructor Sybil Holiday, if Cleo thinks she's good, that's all I need to know. Aspiring mistresses, go here.

More Pictures…

Because I'm too busy to write. Some of these are quite innocent, some are art-nudes and one is rather kinky. Enjoy...

The Veil
Veil 2
Waiting By The Tracks
Beautiful Back
Nude in an Empty Room
Nude with Mask
In The Cage

Tips For Sex Workers

When you start working in a new place, keep your head down and your mouth shut around your co-workers for a little while, until you spy out the lay of the land. Every multi-person working environment has its little hierarchies and customs. Try not to fuck with them first crack out of the box, because it'll take your co-workers longer to learn to trust you.

Giving a client a sob story to elicit money is usually a bad idea. It doesn't always work, and he almost certainly will not want to see you again, because he wants to feel good and you'll just be a downer.

Sex work has busy weeks and slow weeks. Make hay while the sun shines, but don't max yourself out for more than a week or two at most. You'll burn out.

If you think you've discovered a new dodge or angle on an illegal form of sex work that will prevent you from being arrested – you're wrong. Whatever it is, it's been done. It's all been done. Structure your business any way you want. But you'll have to just take your chances like everyone else, because you won't be fooling anyone.

If you actually fire a client, do not take him back, no matter how much money he offers you.

It's nice to refer clients to other ladies, but be aware that if she burns him, he'll come whining to you about it. And vice versa.

On the other hand, if you discover someone you thought was your regular is also seeing other workers, don't have a hissy fit about it. It's undignified and you'll alienate either one or both of them. And that doesn’t put any money in your pocket.

You can't give someone an experience if they won't accept it. Some clients will not allow themselves to have too good of a time, no matter what you do. That's their choice, and you may not understand why, but there it is. Don't lose sleep over it.

Avoid giving your co-workers advice about their personal love-lives.

If a woman doesn't post her prices in some public place, like an ad or a website, don't ask her how much she charges. (Unless you'd like to hire her yourself.) It's tacky.

A sweet personality and good customer-service skills will get you as much repeat business as a boob job. And you won't have to wait til your stitches come out.

Just Another Day

Wow, I've got a busy day scheduled. Get up, say good morning to Max and Maura, make some coffee for Roman, kiss him goodbye, get showered and dressed, kiss Max goodbye, and then hit the dungeon for three back-to-back sessions with 3 different boys.

(But hey, I'm glad for busy days like this, because the check I wrote to IRS last week just about exsanguinated my bank account. That self-emploment tax, good lord...)

And then two hours at the gym, god help me, where I will try not to drop another fifteen pound weight on my foot like I did Wednesday. Ouch.

This weekend is Max's 2-day bondage class, so we'll be busy with that. And Saturday night I'm going to a very swanky party given by a friend. We'll say no more about that - but he knows how he is...

But enough about what you're doing Matisse, you think. What about me? Well, the new column and the Kink Calendar are up, perhaps they'll entertain you.

Also, if you have a partner and you're kinky, Dr. Gabriele Hoff, a doctor of clinical psychology in San Francisco, would like you to fill out an anonymous survey about BDSM couples. I don't know the lady personally, but it looks interesting...

And lastly, for those of you who said you'd never seen a picture of me smiling...Voila.

Voicemail Hell

Some of the odd ones I've gotten lately…

FIRST MESSAGE:"Uh, Hi Mistress, my name is Doug, I talked to you on the phone about two years ago. I'd like to book an appointment now, I've been, um, thinking about what you said and I think I'm finally ready to do the scene we talked about. So give me a call at…"
END OF MESSAGE.
Well, that's all fine, except of course I have no earthly idea who he is or what we talked about, and he may think I do. If you're not one of my regular boys, I will not remember talking to you longer than a few days. There are just too many phone calls.


NEXT MESSAGE: "Yeaah, well, my name's Bobby, but ya can't call me back, cuz the warden's gonna be home soon. So I'll have to call you back later when she's not around. (pause) Hell, you must be some woman to be booking out 24-48 hours in advance. Mmnn. Yeah, I'll call ya back."
END OF MESSAGE.
Oh, hey, Country Boy, dissing your wife in a message to me like this really doesn't impress me. It's tacky and undignified.
And if you think I'm unusual for booking a few days out, I'm really afraid to think about what kind of sex workers you're used to seeing. Pacific Highway comes to mind, unfortunately.


NEXT MESSAGE: Hi, Mistress, my name is Lisa! I've seen your column and I think you're really great, I really admire you so much, and I'd be really grateful if you could help me out. So, this is my question for you. How do you go about starting a dungeon as a non-profit business? I've thought a lot about how to do this and it seems like going with a non-profit is the best way to go, you know, because of the special nature of the business."

(Edited for length – a lot more talk, with the same lack of clear information.)

"So I'd be really grateful if you could talk to me about this, because I need to get the paperwork started. Thanks a lot! Bye-bye!"
END OF MESSAGE.
Say what? This was one of those really incomprehensible messages – so much so that I played it for Max and said, "What the hell is she talking about?" (His reply: "I have no idea.") The whole message was a whopping three minutes and thirty seconds long, and she managed not to give me any useful information except that a) she admired me and b) she wants to start a dungeon c) as a non-profit.

I have no clue why she thinks I'd know a thing about non-profits of any variety. I don't know what she means by "a dungeon". She may mean something like the Wet Spot, which is actually a not-for-profit organization, so that would kinda make some sense to me. Except that I'm not on the WS board or anything, so why ask me?

Or she may mean that she wants to set up shop as a pro domme, and for some inexplicable reason she thinks it would be a good idea to do some kind of non-profit thing around that? Which makes no sense whatsoever. And either way, I have no useful information to give her – except that she needs to work on her clear-communication skills - so I'm not calling her back.


NEXT MESSAGE: "I'm a bad bad boy, don't you wanna spank me? Ha ha ha ha haaaa!"
END OF MESSAGE.
Oh, god, this guy. He's been calling me off and on for years. It's always the same message, with that wild Riddler-esque laugh. And I've never talked to him live that I know of, he usually calls in the middle of the night. It's harmless, if weird…I have a picture of someone who's a night watchman, or something similar, sitting around somewhere with a telephone and too much time on his hands.
But, you know, it's nice that he keeps in touch.

Warning: This is Matisse geeking out about photography. Skip it if you're only interested in the nasty stuff, because...

In Springtime, A Young Woman's Fancy Turns To Film!

Black-and-white infrared film, to be precise. I haven't been shooting much the last year or so, and this blog is partly to blame for that. One only has so much free time, and I've been spending a chunk of mine writing.
But when the sun comes out and the weather warms up, that's when I like to load up the b/w IR and shoot weird-looking stuff. Or, rather, shoot stuff that the film will render in an interesting way. I don't shoot IR in the winter because strong sunlight is the best light for IR. It's such slow film that you need a ton of light, regardless. And I haven't gotten such good results with indoor shots, with either flash or hot lights.

Some of my IR shots…

Beach at Golden Gardens
The Gateway
Ship
James Monroe School
Model at Discovery Park Beach, Midday
Rose, with Roses
Max, with the Apple (not my-lover-Max)
Models On the Railroad Tracks

I have done some color infra-red, which creates some very strange-looking foilage and landscapes. But it can also be fun, and I think if you got good with it you could produce some wild artwork. Here are two examples of color IR. (This is just how it comes out of the camera, these are not digitally retouched.)
Madrona Tree
Fireplace in the Yard

I haven't shot people in color IR, so that might be worth trying. I have no idea how they'd look.
Right now, I'm mentally framing up some images of Roman, cavorting naked in the front yard at the studio. Yay, tall hedges!

Letters From Blog Readers

I am a young woman who is new to seattle, and fairly new to kink in general and am curious about involving myself in the kink community around the area. any tips for a beginner? My long term partner and I have toyed with flogging, hot wax and other fun things, but i would like to bottom someone, if simply for the experience, and to learn technique, (and maybe to indulge my masochistic side.) I know that you do not run a dating service, nor do you see women professionally, I am simply seeking some of your wisdom!

My advice is: join the Wet Spot. It's the most reliable entry point into the local BDSM community, and it's a safe, well-run, and relatively non-threatening atmosphere. My lover Max is teaching a "Bondage For Sex" class on Sunday, May 1st, and that might be an excellent opportunity for ya'll to come scope out the place. (Membership is required for most WS events, but not for Max's class.)

In your professional opinion (Christ, now she’ll probably charge me!), just how prevalent is the submissive male in our culture? And what if anything do you think the phenomenon says about our society? Susie Bright has said that she sees a definite trend in the number of porn manuscripts that cross her desk containing submissive male themes and that this must be emblematic of deeper fault lines in our culture. I find Elise Sutton’s stuff interesting, but I don’t buy her thesis that a female-dominant society would fundamentally change the world. After all, Elizabeth I, Catherine the Great, Golda Meir, Indira Gandhi and Margaret Thatcher weren’t exactly paragons of peaceful but firm maternal leaders!

The really submissive male? Not terribly prevalent. Of course, I don’t think there are that many genuinely submissives females, either. I think there are a lot of people of both genders who have sexual fantasies involving dominance and submission. But only within the confines of what they find erotic, and only to the degree they want it. Bedroom submissives, we sometimes say.

There's not a damn thing wrong with that, you understand. I myself do not identify as submissive at all, but do I like to get tied up while I have sex sometimes? Hell yes, that's fun. And as a dominant, I've done intense D/s scenes lasting as long as a weekend.
But people who want and can happily sustain the "total power exchange" thing, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week? Quite rare. I've only met a few. (And I've met a lot of kinky people.) I think the number of men interested in kink is simply about a) it being more accessible than it used to be and b) men generally pursuing their sexual fantasies more aggressively than women.

Re: female dominant societies - I agree with you; Ms. Sutton's perspective is interesting, but I don't support the idea that women are fundamentally superior to men, morally or in any other way. Power corrupts, and I don't think that women are any more immune to the temptations of mass political power than men.

Generally speaking, what she does really isn't my style, anyway. I like taking people on an intense trip, but I think part of the fun for me is taking them out of a "normal" headspace and into a submissive one. If they just lived there all the time, I think I'd get bored pretty quickly. No challenge.


An amusing final note: Don't you hate it when this happens during your kidnapping scenes? Of course, only in Holland would they be cool enough not to arrest the people on some obscure charge of "disturbing the public morals" or something…

I had an interesting conversation with a friend the other day concerning something her partner was doing. Her situation was that her partner - her husband, in fact - was continuing to have occasional friendly contact with an ex of hers. (They're poly, obviously.) She was not altogether comfortable with that but she wasn't sure what she wanted to do about it. So she asked me what I'd do if I were her. Here's what I said…

"I myself want to *control Max – or any partner I have - as little as possible, and that's mainly because I think controlling (or trying to control) your partner is an unhealthy coping mechanism that ultimately damages the relationship. If I'm not directly impacted by something my partner is doing, then I usually don't think I should try to control it. So the policy I have with myself is: if it's something that Max is doing when I'm not in the room, then I ask myself to consider very, very carefully if it's mine to control.

"Now, obviously there are times when stuff your partner does while away from you does affect you directly: safer sex boundaries certainly come immediately to mind. So it's not a black and white situation. But overall, I find the when-I'm-not-in-the-room yardstick helps me know if the issue is really something that affects me or not. "

"Huh, very interesting. I assume you mean a metaphorical room, rather than a real one?"

"Yeah, for the most part. And let me be clear - I'm not saying I don't struggle with this issue. There are times when I really want control of things even though they have no measurable impact on me. But it's the standard that I try to live up to."

"So," she said, "hypothetically, what if Max was seeing someone who was a huge drama queen and had terrible boundaries?"

"As long as it doesn't affect my life, that's his choice. I wouldn't want to spend time around her myself, but…"

"What if she showed up at the house and pitched some big drama fit?"

"Now she's in the room with me and that's legitimately my problem."

"What if they were having big dramatic upsets all the time, over at her place, but he was coming home all upset from them?"

I thought about it. "That's sort of borderline. I mean, stuff happens. Your partner is going to be upset about things from time to time, that's part of being in a relationship. So I'd say that if it's occasional, I'd let it go. If it was every week, and he was just beside himself with unhappiness or anger or something to the point where it was a struggle for me to cope with it, then we'd have to talk. But even then I'd try to frame it in terms of "how can we change the situation so that your feelings don't impact me so strongly", rather than, "You can't see her anymore!"

Hmmn," she said. "So you're saying that if my husband wants to have dinner with a crazy person, that's his business and I shouldn't tell him not to."

"Yeah, that's my opinion."

"But what if she thinks-" then she stopped. "Oh, right. I don't get to control what she thinks, do I?"

"Honey, if you could do that, you'd still be dating her."

"What if she calls me?"

"Then she's in the room with you, so to speak, and you can deal with that however you think necessary. And you can tell him that she called you, even though you've told her not to, and he can decide what he wants to do with that information.

"Plus," I went on, "I think that when you do things to control your partner, you set precedents that tend to come back and bite you on the ass later on. I know that one of the other reasons I don't want to control Max's behavior is that I don't want him trying to control mine. And you can't reasonably expect to have a double-standard, so… Do you want your husband telling you who you can and can't be friendly with?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think so. Good point."

I'm still refining my if-I'm-not-in-the-room approach to control within relationships. But conversations like one help me keep sharpening it.


(*Obviously we're not talking about erotic/BDSM-type control here. We're talking about being controlling in a pejorative sense.)

It's looking like a moderately busy weekend around here, but nothing we can't handle. Midori is staying here at the house for a few days while she does the Seattle Erotic Art Festival. Max and I went down to the by-invitation preview last night, and there's some great work there - I highly recommend seeing the show. (Dress warmly, though, because it's a big, high-ceilinged space, and it's chilly. I was wearing a skimpy little outfit and even with my coat on, I was freezing.)

And I have a date with Roman tonight, which I'm looking forward to. We won't be at SEAF, though, as we have other plans...

Meanwhile, the new column and the Kink Calendar are up. This week in the column I answered some questions that blog readers sent in, so if you've written me, check and see if yours is there.

Speaking of questions, someone asked me about "slave training schools", and I would have answered you, but my computer ate your email. Check out this organization, I've met some of the people involved and they're reputable and well-regarded in the BDSM community.

And, just for the sheer amusement of it, it's time to play Dress Up Jesus!

Ring Ring!

Me: hello?
Caller: Uh, yeah, hi – is this Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes it is…
Caller: Well, I have a question about getting some professional mentoring from you.

Hmmnn, I'm not sure what to make of this. Perhaps he means he wants me to teach him some BDSM skills, which I'd be fine with doing – at my usual rate.

Me: What exactly is it you're thinking about?
Caller: You see, my girlfriend and I are professional dominants, too. My name is (******) and she's (******). And I was wondering if you'd, like, mentor us?
Me: Mentor you?
Caller: Yeah, professionally, I mean. We're, uh, having some trouble kinda getting going. I was wondering if you'd be willing to sit down with us and talk to us about what we should be doing, business-wise.

The simplest and shortest answer here would be to say, "No, I wouldn't", and hang up. But I feel compelled to be a bit more polite about it, because…my momma raised me that way. (Dammit.)

We're going to skip right over the part about him being a professional dominant, because I'm quite sure I don't want to ask. It isn't that men can't do that - I know some male pro doms. But the vast majority of their clients are, of course, other men. So either he's seeing male clients, which is fine, but it's an area of the industry that I naturally have no experience in. Or he's just doing duos with his girlfriend. Or he's sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting for the phone to ring with female clients who want a male pro dom. He'll have a long wait.

No, none of that is my dog. But what never ceases to amaze me is how people will call me up and say, essentially, "Hi, we're some complete strangers and we'd like to compete with you in business, will you teach us how to do that?"

Now, understand, I have no problem with other mistresses. This is not like the Highlander movies, where "there can be only one". No, it's very good thing I'm not the only one, because there are far more guys who want to see pro dommes than I can book sessions with - even if I were compatible with all of them, which I'm not. While I don't recognize the names he gave me, I'm friendly with most of the other (reputable) pro dommes in town, and most of them are great gals. So if you tell me you want to become a pro domme, then I will smile and wish you the very best of luck.

But if you want me to tell you how you should do that, then you need a whole lot more than luck, my friend - you need a sharp rap with the clue stick. It doesn't matter what business you're in, that's just not how small business works. I myself am the child of two small business owners and I learned a lot about small business strategy and psychology just by watching my parents. Some of what I leaned is: your competitor has just as much right to be in the industry as you do, and it's nothing personal, so there's no reason not to be courteous to him when you bump into each other at the coffee shop. The two of you might even like each other and get to be buddies – you'll certainly have some things in common.

But you don't give away your secrets, and you don't spend your professional time nurturing those nascent competitors. A lot of people appear to not understand this, which sort of puzzles me since it seems so obvious. But what I have come to believe is that many people are not cut out to run their own business. Even (or perhaps, especially) a sex work business.

I'd probably be less impatient with this call if I hadn't had this exact same conversation many, many times over the years, although usually with women. I don't mind swapping small bits of advice with newer ladies – the "so, how do you handle it when X happens?" kinda thing. But it's my opinion that if you just don't know how to run the business you're in, then the most merciful thing anyone can do is let you fail quickly and decisively, rather than pulling a Terri Schiavo on you. That way, you can go on to do something you've got the skills for. (It's worth mentioning that none of the successful ladies who got started as dommes after I did have ever tried this "will you tell me how to run my business?" trick with me. They didn’t need to.)

Fortunately, I have long since constructed a graceful way out of these conversations - with the added advantage of it being perfectly true.

Me: No, I'm sorry, my attorney has advised me not to do things like that.
Caller: Oh – really? Because we're just, you know, not sure if we should stay with it or quit or what. It's not been going so well. I wanna stay with it, but my girlfriend thinks she wants to quit. I was hoping you could kinda talk to her about giving it another try.

Oh, wow, that's a whole other issue. He wants me to talk his reluctant lover into continuing to work as a pro domme? No, no, no, no, nooooo. There are oh-so many quicksand pits in that conversation, I don't even want to think about it.

Me: You know, I wish you both the best of luck in whatever you decide to do, but as I said, my attorney has advised me that I should not have those kinds of conversations. So I cannot help you, sorry.
Caller: Oh. Well, if you’re sure.
Me: Thanks, goodbye.

We hang up. Maybe when I'm retired, I'll write a book. Do you think The One-Minute Pro Domme would sell?

Well, I was going to write something witty, and...I got busy with other things. So I decided to do a quick photo album page, prompted in part by a question someone asked me this week about how long I've been a pro domme. My long-term clients will recognize a few of these shots, although not all of these went on my professional site.
Now, without further ado: Mistress Matisse, the early years...

Andrea Dworkin died on Saturday. As you may imagine, I was not a big fan of hers, in spite of Susie Bright's assertion that Ms. Dworkin was the one who started women looking at porn with an eye to remaking it for our own pleasure. But Susie is right about one thing: All those people who try to repress sexual freedom by nattering about how "porn is violence against women" - they are the political children of Andrea Dworkin. All those right-wing, sexist, fundamentalist, homophobic, sex-negative white guys. Thanks a whole bunch, Andrea.

And so in honor of Ms. Dworkin, a cool link about writing hot sex scenes. With examples, of course.

A news story that about six different people emailed to me… "Dominatrix-turned-bureaucrat says she endured harassment from her superior -- a former client". She won her case, though. I bet he was one of those "real and true submissives".

Does George Bush know he got shut out of this race? Fix! Fix! I smell voter fraud! Send in Stefan Sharkansky! I demand an investigation!

Max still has a couple of spaces left in the Rope Bondage Intensive class this weekend...

In-teresting...Is this bondage furniture or wacky art? You decide. (Via Mithras.)

Added: Okay, I usually don't do memes, but the SF Gate piece behind this is too funny. My Unitarian Jihad Name is:

Sister Jackhammer of Courteous Debate.

Get yours.

Notes From the Clueless...

I must be PMS lately, because people keep saying things that annoy me. (Or maybe it's just that what they're saying really is stupid. You tell me.)

In Conversation:
"I'd be fine with my girlfriend having sex with another girl, that would be cool. But another guy? No way!"

On the Phone:
Ring Ring!
"Hello?"
"Mistress Matisse?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me how old you are?"
"Well, I could. But I'm not going to. There are photos of me on my site that accurately reflect what I look like. I don't think my precise age has anything to do with abilities as a Mistress."
"Oh. Can you tell me your bust size?"

Via Email:
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I have never done bondage before, however my boyfriend recently told me that he wants to be abused by me. How do I do this? Please answer quickly and tell me everything I need to know, we have a date tonight.

Dear Mistress Matisse,
I'd like to become a professional dominatrix, too. Will you train me?

Dear Mistress Matisse,
Do you give birthday discounts?

Hopefully someone masochistic will schedule an appointment with me this week, so I can take out my irritation on their butt. Or someone who's into serious foot worship, because that's the one thing that's absolutely, unconditionally guaranteed to put me in a happy mood.

A rather late post for today - Roman and I didn't get out of bed and unwrapped from each other until a little later than usual this morning. And then we ran into Max and Maura in the kitchen, and the boys wound up talking about - what else? - hemp rope matters...

Foodie note: Last night I was in a carnivorous mood, so Roman and I went to the Ipanema Brazilian Grill down on First Avenue, and it was quite yummy. If you're a meat-eater, I recommend it.

The new column and the Kink Calendar are up, so go enjoy them...And this week, Roman got quoted in Dan Savage's column, so go read his words of wisdom to aspiring rope tops. I'm so proud of him.

Ring Ring!

Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes.
Caller: I'd like to talk about an appointment.

This is all sounding fine so far. I'm optimistic.

Me: Okay, have you ever seen a pro domme before?
Caller: No, but I'm very interested. I've done a lot of playing around, by myself you know, and I'd like to do a scene with a partner.

Still fine. Lots of people experiment alone, usually as part of masturbating. Boys who like cock and ball torture are the most apt to tell me stories about the creative things they've done to their bits. Sometimes these little tales of auto-erotic-sadism make my blood run cold. "You did what to your dick? With a number two pencil and pair of vise-grips? Jesus, honey, please don't do that – I'm a highly trained professional, let me do the evil things to you. That way you'll still have a functioning penis when it's finished."

So let's see if he's a CBT fan…

Me: Are there particular things you're interesting in exploring?
Caller: Yes, I have a fantasy role play in mind.
Me: Okay, what kind of roleplay is it?
Caller: Well, it's sort of a medical scene. And I like to cross-dress.
Me: Medical play is fine. I don't have much of a wardrobe for cross-dressers but if you'd like to bring your own clothes and dress, I enjoy that.
Caller: And…I like to pretend like I'm pregnant.

Okay…That's different. Not too many things I haven't heard of before now, but cross-dressing as a pregnant woman, that's a new one on me. But, all right, I can deal with that, I suppose.

Then I ask the obvious question…

Me: Pregnant…Okay, so does you being pregnant enter into the role-play?
Caller: Yes. I want to pretend I'm giving birth.

Wow. Okay. We're definitely into unusual-fantasy territory here. I suppress the urge to say, "You want to what?" Because this isn't a fantasy that seems particularly erotic to me. (Especially given that for my whole life, being pregnant and giving birth have ranked quite high on the "Things I Never Want To Experience" list, coming in just slightly behind being in a major airplane crash.)

But since he's the one who wants to give birth, not me, let's see if I can find myself anywhere in this fantasy.

Me: So – what role would I play in this fantasy?
Caller: You'd be the nurse helping me give birth. Sort of a sadistic nurse.

You know, you'd think in this day and age this kind of sex-role stereotyping would be obsolete. But no. A nurse. What the fuck?

Me: I don't role-play being a nurse. I could possibly play being a doctor. But not a nurse.
Caller: Okay, I'm sorry. Doctor. You'd be the doctor overseeing my delivery.

Hmmnn… "Doctor Matisse, sadistic obstetrician". I don't know. I don't think this is really a fit for me.

But I'm mildly curious…

Me: So, how exactly do you act out this fantasy? I mean, what do you…?
Caller: I have a doll.
Me: Okay.
Caller: And I'd want you to, you know, put it inside me.

Whoa. I know what he means when he says "inside" – and it's not a caesarian he's talking about – but I'm a little alarmed that this guy is asking me to put an infant-sized doll up his ass.

Me: Inside you?
Caller: Yeah, it's not that big. It's a Barbie doll.

Ah. Well, that takes care of one problem, although I now have to pause for a moment and consider the fact that I'm talking to a guy who wants to be fucked in the ass with a Barbie doll. And then pretend to give birth to it. The frightening thing is that I can actually sketch it out in my head pretty easily. "Right, first we'd do that, then a little of this, and then I'd…Yeah, and then he'd…And then the…Yeah, right, could work." I could even incorporate some forced breast-feeding. But I'm guessing an episiotomy is out of the question.

But just because I can mentally choreograph it out doesn't mean I actually want to do it, because I don't. For one thing, while I'm quite, quite sure he wouldn't be the first person to get pegged by Barbie, one of my fears would be one of Barbie's little arms would come off while she was up his ass, or one of her permanently-pointed toes would perforate something, or who knows what. So although I generally support the idea of pervertibles, this whole scene just doesn't feel like my cuppa. I think I'll politely decline.

Me: Uh, you know what, this doesn't really sound like my thing. I'm not so much with medical role-playing.
Caller: But you said you did medical.
Me: Well, yes, but what I'm really strongest with is the activities - like cutting and piercing, sounds, catheters, stuff like that.
Caller: Oh.
Me: Sorry, better luck elsewhere.
Caller: Are you sure?
Me: Yeah, I just don't think this is really for me.
Caller: Okay, well, bye….

As we hang up I think to myself, And be sure you tie off the umbilical cord…

Okay, everyone – the pope is dead. He was an old man, he was sick, and he died. That's too bad, I suppose, but old sick people die every minute of every day somewhere in the world, so can we please stop with the "All-Dead-Pope, All-The-Time" news coverage? I'm starting to feel like this version of TV Guide is the real one…

Given his asinine views on birth control, I'm sure the departed pontiff would have dug this site…

And while Johnny Paul probably would have been horrified by this, I'm planning on sending this link to all the guys who write to me asking how to become porn stars.

I don't wear glasses, but I think this looks cool. Max does - but somehow I just don't think he's going to go for the idea.

And this is a link that's been posted a number of other places already, but I think all new kinksters should be required to memorize it. And there should be pop quizzes.
A keynote speech by Laura Antoniou, author of the wonderful 'Marketplace' series of SM fantasy novels, giving a big ol' whack with the clue stick to silly perverts everywhere.

Operator Assistance

I had dinner with Miss K the other day and she told me a story…

"So this guy had called me and left me a message," - she rolled her eyes – "and I should have known he was going to be kinda clueless, because in the voicemail he said, I haven't done this in thirty years."

"He hasn't had sex in thirty years? Jesus Christ, you better get some industrial-strength condoms, because this guy's gonna shoot like Old Faithful."

"Yeah, maybe, although he definitely didn't sound like a spring chicken." She mimicked an old-man voice. "I haven't done this in nigh on thirty years, sonny." She shrugged and continued. "And you know I normally like older guys, but something about this one... I figured he meant he hadn't seen a call girl in thirty years, and I assumed that meant he'd be a little rusty with the etiquette. An assumption that was proved right when I called him back."

"What did he do?"

"Well, I called him and when he picked up, I said, 'Hi, is this Bill? This is (her work name), you called and left me a message.' And do you know what he did?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"He said, 'Oh, no, you mean this is (her legal name)'."

"Wha-at?"

"Yeah. I just got that new phone, and I thought my name was blocked on outgoing calls, but apparently, it wasn't yet."

"Well, that's bloody annoying. But you mean this yahoo actually said, 'No, this is (her legal name)'? What a moron."

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty stupid, too," she said dryly.

"What did you do?"

"I figured one good stupidity deserved another, so I said, 'No, it's not. This is (her work name)'."

I laughed. "Hey, that's cool - brazen it out, baby. What did he say to that?"

"He acted all confused, and told me that (her legal name) was showing up on his caller ID, and I simply repeated that that wasn't my name. He told me I should call the phone company, then, and I told him that I certainly would be."

"Jesus. What happened then?"

"Well, he asked me my rate and acted kinda stunned when I told him."

"Maybe he thought there'd been a price freeze for the last thirty years."

Today I have some questions for ya'll...

Does anyone know anything about these folks? If so, I'd be quite interested in hearing about your experiences, either here or via private email. They claim to have a good rating from Jane's Guide, but I can't find a review of them anywhere on Jane's site. And I admit that the mindset implied by their (rather skimpy) website did not impress me. But I'm open to hearing more...

Does anyone know of any Seattle-area "Furry" social groups or events? I'd list them in the Kink Calendar, if I could find any. Drop me a note or post it here... (What's a Furry? Read this, or this, or this.)

Speaking of the Kink Calendar, are there types of events you'd like to see listings for that I haven't touched on?