High point of my day yesterday: an amazingly yummy lunch at The Frontier Room on 1^st Ave. I used to go drinking there (back when that seemed like fun to me) when it was the old Frontier Room, for you Seattle folks who remember that delightfully trashy dive. It was a little odd to walk in the door and smell the enticing aroma of smoked meat, as opposed to stale spilled booze and cigarettes. But for Yankee barbeque, the pulled-pork sandwich was pretty dang good.

Low point of my day yesterday: an appointment with my tax preparer. Oh, it’s not going to be pretty, boys and girls. For the next few weeks, the Federal Government is going to be my pimp. I am so Uncle Sam’s bitch until I write that check on April 14th. Ouch.

How fitting, then, that I get to have a little fun at the Fed's expense in this week’s column.

See you at the Bondage Class and Party!

Dominatrii In The News!

Geeze Louise – three hundred and twenty-seven thousand dollars? That's sort of depressing. I am obviously doing something wrong…Although I'm guessing the Mistress in question is now getting a veritable tsunami of extremely annoying phone calls.

But this (relatively work-safe) little video clip is delightful…Leave it to the Brits to make a sexy ad about global warming. (Google video, 44 seconds)

Back From Kinkfest

Well, I had a very good time at Kinkfest this year. But then, I’ve never had a bad time there. I saw lots of friends, went to some good classes, and Max and I had fun at the dungeon parties.

The dangerous part about going to kink conventions, though, is that I invariably see new toys I want. I was so busy socializing this year that I didn’t get to shop the vendor area very effectively. So now I’ll have to order stuff, because I definitely saw some things I'm now lusting for.

I’ve been meaning to get a saline inflation kit and have a nurse-pal of mine give me a refresher session on that technique, because it’s big fun. Really, really big, if you use enough saline – a man I know inflates his balls to the size of a melon. But that’s a bit extreme - normally one puffs up the balls (or the nipples, or the labium) just enough to make them extra-sensitive. The sterile water is absorbed safely into the body within a relatively short time and it’s all good.

I was thinking one had to use a largish IV bag for this, but at KF I learned that you can actually buy cute little syringes pre-loaded with saline, all sealed and safe, for small infusion scenes. How convenient!

And I was reminded that I really need to get a surgical stapler. They seem fierce, but in fact, the staples don’t even go as deep as needles. You can use them almost anywhere, too. So there’s a call to my friend Bruce at KinkyMedical.net in my near future.

The medical stuff won’t set me back a whole lot. But then, damn, I saw one of these: The PES Samurai. Woot! I want one. (They say it's just for girls, but...heh. That's what they think.) It's not cheap, though - electrical stuff never is. Even going to the PES site is dangerous – I want another buttplug from them, too, and I need some new scrotal straps. I swear I could max out my Visa without even breaking a sweat.

I did get one fun new toy, though, from Seattle kink-artist Scott Paul. Many of us think of Scott Paul as “the cage guy”, but he actually makes a whole line of stuff besides cages, and it’s all beautifully designed and lovely to look at. He certainly has some very imaginative gags. And I imagine this little instrument will be delightful to wield.

Kinksters will recognize it as a variation on the classic medical Wartenberg Wheel, but sharper and meaner. I can’t wait to use it. Volunteers, anyone?

I am horrified by this. As far as I am aware, I don’t know anyone involved, but it’s a terrible tragedy. I can’t imagine losing someone I loved to such an apparently senseless crime, and I definitely cannot imagine being at a party where someone came in with a gun and started shooting.

I have known a few people who died suddenly and violently. Each time, I recall something my father, who was in Vietnam, used to say: “We are all only an instant away.” Death can come for us anywhere, at anytime.

My sympathy to all of those who are touched by this.

Barely-controlled bedlam here. Fetish clothes and BDSM toys are being tossed about the room in a frenzy of packing. iPods are being loaded with road tunes. Cats are sulking at the sight of suitcases (What? she thinks, my slave is leaving town? Inconceivable!). And SEAF-related spontaneous houseguests have materialized, because Max and I are so the Hotel Kink in Seattle.

But this is not your chaos to organize. Go read about how not to pick people up, based on an extensive survey of a dozen of my pals at a brunch party two weeks ago. Plus (ahem) years of personal experiences, both triumphant and catastrophic.

And go see SEAF. It's great.

Bye!

I’m busy!
I'm finishing a piece of writing for a April 1 deadline.
Getting ready to go out of town tomorrow.
Going to the VIP reception for SEAF tonight.
And trying to conduct the rest of my life as usual. I’m pretty swamped.

But color me excited: I just found out that Coinstar doesn’t take the service fee if you take Amazon vouchers instead of cash for your change. Yes, yes, I know, Amazon is evil, but I have a ton of change around the house in various jars, and so I think I can make an exception in this case. I haven’t been spending money on books lately, what with the new dungeon and all, but I want these:

A Devil's Dictionary of Business: Monkey Business; High Finance and Low; Money, the Making, Losing, and Printing Thereof; Commerce, Trade; Clever Tricks; Tours de Force; Globalism and Globaloney, by Nicholas Von Hoffman. I’ve never had an office job in my life, so the whole corporate thing is very alien and mysterious to me. This will be like reading a book about a foreign country.

The Portrait of Mrs. Charbuque : A Novel by Jeffrey Ford I read his other novel, The Girl in the Glass, and liked it. I didn’t love it, but I liked it, so I’ll give ole Jeffery another spin.

Flashman on the March by George MacDonald Fraser. Love the Flashman books. Love them! Have them all. Good trashy-historical fun.

Ten Percent of Nothing: The Case of the Literary Agent from Hell, by Jim Fisher. Because while I’ve already researched the whole idea exhaustively, and feel sure that I’d know a legit agent from a scam artist… Information is never a waste.

The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists by Neil Strauss. This one’s just going to piss me off, I'm sure. And I hate the idea of contributing even a tiny amount to the royalties of a guy I suspect is a total jackass. But I admit it: I’m curious about what he has to say.

The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. Historical thriller – woot! I’m in heaven.


And in a completely unrelated note: The President of Oglala Sioux Tribe strikes back at South Dakota anti-choicers! “I will personally establish a Planned Parenthood clinic on my own land which is within the boundaries of the Pine Ridge Reservation where the State of South Dakota has absolutely no jurisdiction.” Cecilia Fire Thunder, you rock!

News, Both Good And Bad

Well, this is depressing. The anti-sex, pro-censorship regime we’re living under continues to chip away at what adults are allowed to see and read. Please make a donation to the NCSF as they fight for our right to be sexy.
March 20, 2006 - Washington D.C. Today the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed the
Federal District Court's decision in Barbara Nitke and NCSF v. Alberto Gonzales,
the challenge to the Communications Decency Act, #01 CIV 11476 (RMB). The Supreme Court has affirmed the lower court's decision without hearing oral arguments,
sending a clear signal that the court will not protect free speech rights when it
comes to sexually explicit materials....(Read More.)

In more fun news: Max is teaching another 2-day rope bondage intensive on April 29/30th. Go from clueless newbie to black-belt Nawashi, overnight! Okay, not really. But seriously, Max starts at the basic, 101-level stuff and takes you all the way through full suspension. He doesn’t teach suspension as a stand-alone class, so if you want to learn it from him – and there is no one better to learn it from, I assure you – this is the opportunity. It’s a limited class size and it will absolutely fill up quickly, so register now and save your spot.

There’s also a bondage class with fetish photographer Michele Serchuk and her partner, Delano, of DelanoInDistress.com – that’s coming up on Sunday April 2nd. There will be a slide show of Michele’s work with Delano. Mmmmm, pictures of a cute guy all tied up – sounds yummy.


Finally, a shopping question. This stuff, Sex Grease, is my lube of choice. I used to buy it at Babeland, but it seems they no longer sell it. Wah. Has anyone seen it being sold around Seattle anywhere? I can order it online somewhere, but I'd be happy to support a local business if it was convenient.

My romance with my new house continues. I’m thinking about remodeling my dungeon bathroom sometime next year – because it’ll take me that long to save up the money – and after looking through lots of design books, I realize that what I want looks a lot like the bathroom on the first floor of the house Max and I share.

You see, our sexy bathroom was actually designed to be a handicapped-accessible bathroom. What that means is that it’s kind of a big open room with a showerhead and a drain in the middle of the floor, and shiny chrome handrails. Because I don’t give a damn about bathtubs, what I like are sexy showers. Mmmm-hmmnn. They're so useful for all kinds of scenes.

I've certainly photographed it a lot. The first porn shoot I ever sold to a magazine, I think about 2002, was shot there, with model Rose Algren.

I did some pictures of porn-reviewer Jane Duvall there too. In spite of all the sexy wet shots we went on to do in this shoot, I love this one because it’s such a very Jane facial expression.

And of course I did some self-portraits there too.

So yeah, I want a big open space - big for a shower, I mean, perhaps eight by eight? Done in dark stone, because that blinding-white tile thing is not my kink. I think several water sources – showerheads, hoses, you know. And ADA handrails all around, the kind that are set deeply into the wall and designed to take lots of stress and pressure. That’s a sexy remodel.

Happy Friday, everyone.... Here's the new column. And for you dead-tree readers, I heard yesterday that I am absolutely back in the paper version all the time now. Yay!

Also: I see that the Lusty Lady is hiring. The LL is the only sex work job I ever had where I actually recieved a paycheck. Being a bona fide employee was weird. But it's a good gig for some girls, so if you go audition, remember two things:
1. You don't have to be able to dance like Madonna. It's a small room that you're in, with three or four other girls, so if you have the ability to wiggle your hips more or less in time to music, you're fine. (And hell, if you're cute and sexy enough, they don't even care about that.)
2. Make eye contact and smile. Like all other forms of sexy entertainment, they're looking for ladies who seem happy and engaged with the customers. Pick a window, get close to it, show the candy, look him in the eye, and smile. Not rocket science.

It’s nice when you have cute girls delivered, bound and gagged and blindfolded, to your door. It’s even nicer when cupcakes come with them.

Unfortunately UPS doesn’t provide this service. Last night Roman and I, with Griffin’s able and evil assistance, put Operation Abduction Scene into action. I had the easy part: wait at my dungeon for the victim to arrive, then be mean to her. No problem!

Roman and Griffin had to tie poor girl up, gag her, blindfold her, and stuff her (mostly) into a burlap sack. And then get her into the back of a car and get her over to my place, chuckling evilly and making Playfully Threatening Remarks at intervals.

Her partner was actually present the whole time, but she didn’t know it, as we kept her blindfolded the entire scene. I swear, Roman and Griffin and I should do one of those old-fashioned mystery radio shows. We love riffing off each other and throwing out red herrings. (“Holy Toldeo steel, Griffin, look at the size of that knife she’s holding! Jesus, she’s going to get blood everywhere.” Blindfolded and gagged bottom quivers and moans delightfully. “Hey Roman, do you think this one light bulb will be enough to scare all the rats away? You know how aggressive they are down here by the docks.” More moaning.)

Needless to say: no knife, no rats, no docks, and not very much blood. Just a few drops, really. She giggled through the gag the whole time we were sticking needles in her.

And the cupcakes? Fabulous. Trust Roman’s friends to cater their own scenes.

I’m sure there will be more about this on his blog, so do check for that. But a lovely little scene for me, definitely.

From March 1^st until April 15^th is traditionally an unpredictable time of year for ladies in the industry, and while I don’t have to fret about my year-end bottom line, I do have slower weeks. And this is looking like one of them.

So if you’ve been unable to get time with me, now would be a good time to try. If you are someone I know, I have time today until 5. (Why only guys I know? Because new guy + impulsive same-day appointment often = no show, in my experience.)

I also have time available tomorrow starting at 2pm or 3pm, or something in the evening, say, 7pm.

Thursday I have an appointment open from 5-6pm.

And Friday before five is open.

That’s all current as of this moment, but of course, the phone will ring soon, as it always does, and that’ll change. So carpe diem.

Oh, and by the way: Bill Napoli, Bill Napoli, Bill Napoli.

I admit it: I do read trashy novels sometimes. But only good trashy novels, so before I go on a trashy-novel-buying-spree, I always check in with the ladies at the “Smart Bitches, Trashy Books” site, who do fabulous trashy novel reviews. So while the clueful Kate posted a comment about it a few days ago, I have indeed been following, with glee, their successful Google-bombing of Bill Napoli, the Republican state senator and official-asshole-with-a-Messiah-complex for South Dakota.

Now, abortion is one of those issues I prefer not to argue with people about here, because it’s just so useless to even try to have a reasoned dialogue about it online. I think abortion should be legal, I vote and contribute money according to that belief, and that’s the end of the discussion for me. Obviously if you feel differently, you can act in accordance with your beliefs.

But regardless of what your views on when and how abortion should be legal – or not – Bill Napoli having the brass-balled temerity to set himself up as the arbitrator of what kind of rape victim deserves to be granted an abortion is so unbe-fucking-lievably oppressive, sexist and wrong that it makes Rick Santorum look like a Sensitive New Age Guy. Putting forth the idea that a rape victim who’s a religious virgin is entitled to have an exception made for her, while a married agnostic woman should have to have to grin and bear her rapist’s child is evidence of a deeply flawed moral compass.

I fear for the women of South Dakota, and on a larger scale, I fear for all women who don’t have the resources that I do. Come what may in this country, if I get pregnant and I don’t want to bear a child – which is pretty much a given - I can get in my car and drive to Vancouver, BC and get the medical care I need. The wives and daughters and girlfriends of rich Republicans will have those kinds of options, too, so why should they worry? But there are a lot of women who don’t have that kind of time, money and emotional support. Some of them live in South Dakota.

So, to keep a good thing going, here’s a link to the story in which Bill Napoli publicly inserted his head into his ass, and here's a link to the Smart Bitches definition page, from which I will now quote:

Bill Napoli (R-SD)

napoli (not to be confused with the proper noun, which indicates the Italian city)

Function: verb

Inflected Form(s): napolied

Pronunciation: nA'poli

1. To brutalize and rape, sodomize as bad as you can possibly make it, a young, religious virgin woman who was saving herself for marriage.

2. To hella rape somebody.

Etymology: From State Senator Bill Napoli's (R-SD) description of an acceptable rape that would merit an exemption from South Dakota's abortion ban.

Example of usage: "Did you hear? Laura's dad totally napolied her, but according to Utah law, she still has to obtain his permission before getting an abortion."

Happy Friday, everyone… I’m looking forward to a pretty quiet weekend, and that’s good, because I’ve got writing to do.

Speaking of writing, here’s this week’s column. Yes, I know it’s not in the paper version, no, I have no idea when I’ll be back in that all the time. The choice is not mine, I assure you.

Local note: if you haven’t been to The Kingfish Café yet, you really must go. Roman and I had an extremely yummy dinner there last night, served to us by one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life.

You see, the Kingfish does Southern food, and it’s owned by two women of color who I believe are sisters, and all the waitstaff that I’ve ever seen there have also been people of color. Many of them are women, and they’re all pretty.

But our server last night was just jaw-droppingly beautiful. Tall, very willowy figure, beautiful features, especially her perfectly shaped cheekbones and jawline - very queenly. And her perfect skin was the color of deep, rich Turkish coffee without even a hint of cream. Words don’t do her justice, she was stunning. I wanted to photograph her so badly! Why this girl is waiting tables instead of modeling, I don’t know. She’s a muse if I ever saw one. I just stared at her while she was taking our order, and then I told her she was a beautiful girl. I'm guessing she's been told that before, but I don't think a woman ever get tired of hearing it.

The food was great too, of course. Roman and I had saved up our calories and we indulged: red beans and rice, fried chicken, yam fries, collard greens, and a huge slab of chocolate cake, all served by this sweetly-smiling gorgeous woman.

And then we came home and proceeded to burn off a few of those calories. Life is good.

Another Email

> Date: March 6, 2006 11:15:18 PM PST
> To: matisse AT thestranger.com
> Subject: question for mistress matisse
>
> Dear Mistress Matisse,
>
> This is perhaps the lamest question you will ever receive; it is
> definitely the lamest question I have ever asked myself or anyone
> else.
>
> Here is the deal. I am a sub. That is how I identify sexually as
> much as someone so solidly gay they have known since age 6. And while
> on the face of it this seems like it should make dating easy (roles
> delineated a priori; you're not going to stick a whip in my hand at
> any point and expect me to *do* something with it; you're not going to
> be asking me every minute what I want to be doing, etc.), it doesn't.
>
> I am very pretty, I have a great body, I'm smart and engaging and
> have a great real-life life, and I am a great sub. Here is what I
> hope to know from you: in what ways is dating in the bdsm world
> inherently different? Why can I have such success with regular guys
> but not with finding a dom that is looking for a long-term
> relationship with a stellar sub and partner?
>
> At this point in my life, I really don't want to have a normal
> relationship. If I am having a sexual relationship, I want all of my
> sexuality to be included and cultivated. That means I want to be
> submissive, and not just sexually. That is the way I am drawn to
> respond in a sexual relationship/interaction. It is real, it is
> genuine, and it is something I wish to embrace, not ignore or supress.
>
> I do understand the statistics of it all: I am drawing from a far
> smaller pool, just as I would be if in vanilla criteria I decided I
> needed someone with an exhaustive list of very specific attributes.
> But I am not looking for Any Living Purported Dom; there has to be a
> connection, and an intellectual as well as personality fit.
>
> Do you have advice? Do you think the Internet makes any sense?
> Should I just play forever, whenever I can, just like maybe joining
> every club in vanilla dating life, in hopes that one day...
>
> I just don't think it should be this hard. Damn it, I'm hot and I'm a
> catch, but it has to be someone worth submitting to.
>
> Thanks…
(Signed with a female name)



This isn’t a lame question. I think most kinksters ask themselves this at one time or another – how can I find the right partner? Hell, I think most vanilla people ask themselves the same thing. Why else would When Harry Met Sally be such a big hit? So, my answer, and some advice.

The answer is: yes, you just have to keep looking, and yes, it’s going to be a bitch. You are seeking all the same kinds of things a vanilla person seeks in a partner: a smart, well-balanced person who’s physically attractive to you, shares your basic values, likes cats, foreign films, and Indian food, no outstanding warrants for their arrest – the usual. And in addition to that, you want a sexually unusual person who shares your specific BDSM tastes – a man, I assume, since you didn’t say otherwise. That’s a tall order.

Notice I said “specific” – I mean very specific. It’s not like there are dominants and there are submissives, and you can match up any two and what they like to do in the dungeon will naturally follow. Uh-uh. Your way of being submissive (or dominant) is unique to you. I myself, for example, tend to like spunky, sassy play-partners. (You get points if you make me laugh. You get gagged if you don’t.) The uber-meek, never-raise-their-eyes-from-the-floor type of submissive doesn’t generally turn me on. My point is that it’s not a generic thing, so you’ll need to find not only a competent, worthy top who you want to date, but one whose style and preferred activities mirror your own.

So you are drawing from a very, very small pool indeed, and yes, based on my experience, it is going to be that hard. Unless you are astoundingly lucky, you are going to kiss a lot of froggy dominants, have a certain number of underwhelming kink experiences, and you are going to have to be very patient. Welcome to life as a sexual minority.

Now that I’ve said all the depressing stuff, let me also reassure you: I think finding the right person for you is absolutely possible. Heck, you might even find several of them. I have found some truly amazing people in my life as a kinky person, so I know they’re out there. When you do hook up with someone you really like and whose kinks line up with yours – wow, it’s fabulous. It makes all the churning worthwhile.

To find your someone-amazing, you must go where the ducks are, whatever that means in your current life-situation. I think getting involved in real-life BDSM community is always better than only searching through the personal ads. Doing both is optimum. However, if kinky personal ads are all you have access to, use them. For more info about how one goes about getting involved in the real-life BDSM community, go here.

I also think you should try to look upon the journey to your future partner as a positive experience in itself. All those underwhelming experiences are going to really sharpen your understanding of what you want, and that’s a good thing. Plus, you have to have some it’s-funny-in-retrospect stories to share about the terrible dominant, Count Chocula, who’d read every single Gor novel ever published and whose hairpiece fell off while he was flogging you.

In closing, a small nit to pick: if you do use personal ads, the first impression you make on people will be via your words on a screen. And you, my dear, may need to fine-tune your approach. If I had to make a snap judgment on you based on just this email, I’d have to say - you come off a bit like a spoiled princess. The several reiterations of how hot you are, your success with vanilla men, and how deserving you are of someone Worthy… It makes you sound as if you think you’re entitled to special treatment. All the advice I just gave you is the exact same advice I’d give to someone who claimed to be dumpy, dull and unpopular, because they are actually just as deserving of True Kinky Love as you are. It is far more becoming to at least pretend a little modesty in these matters. Upload a photo with your ad, speak truthfully about your accomplishments without attaching too many flattering adjectives, and let other people tell you how hot you are, as opposed to you telling them.

Complete text of an email I received today.

From the lowest depths of darkness, the forgotten corners of your soul i cry to U. U find me shiueking as demaons claw my heart out and devour it over and ovr until U save me. O/our souls meld toegther locking as O/one we fly together. i know your command before U speak it, U know my obiedice is instant and unthinking. Every breath of cold air that brushs my soul is blown away by your heat and dark brilliance.
Nechamadeus 206.XXX-XXXX

Okay, well, unlike some odd emails I get, at least the writer seems to be a native English speaker, which always gives me a fighting chance of deciphering the intended meaning.

But what is he saying here? There’s some guy hanging around a corner of my soul who’s slipped my mind? What, did I put him in a closet or something? Because I’m usually pretty good about not forgetting about that kind of thing.

It’s nice that he thinks I’m brilliant, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for him. Apparently there is no spell-check on the computer he’s using in the forgotten corner of my soul. And that slashy writing? He’s really not done his homework on me, or he’d know I hate that.

I think this boy’s been listening to way too much bad goth rock. (And actually reading the liner notes - always a mistake, even if one likes the melody.) I imagine the Sisters Of Mercy could have made something out of these lines, but I don’t plan on melding my soul with Nechamadeus’ anytime soon.

Community Note: A friend of mine, who's a sweet wonderful guy, has a room for rent in his darling house house near UW. Call him if you're interested...
**************************************************************
For Rent
Large, lovely room on 2nd floor, with lots of oak built-in drawers and
bookshelves. Carpeting, ceiling fan, skylight and little meditation room off
the main room. Own bathroom with shower. Some furniture available at no
extra cost.

Share kitchen, small yard with garden, washer/dryer, basement
storage, high-speed DSL, and off-street parking with live-in owner.

Owner has 2 friendly cats, no other pets please. No smoking indoors.

Available April 1st. Rent is $550.00 per month. No lease, no deposit, first and last
month's rent moves you in, most utilities included. References expected.
Please call for an interview. (206)325-6833

I'm a busy girl today, but here's the new column.... And hopefully I'll see ya'll at Max's Bondage Workshop and party on Sunday.

Edited to add: It's about time to do another "Ask The Mistress" column, so if there's something you've always wanted to ask me, either as a pro domme, a practicing kinkster, or a poly person, fire away. If I don't use your question for this round, I'll save it for future columns. You can post it here, or email it me if you're shy....

Edited one more time: Can you tell my head is a little disorganized today? It's all Roman's fault. Anyway, here's a humorous rebuttal to my column about all the silly things men do when placing personal ads. Read and learn, ladies.

Top 25 Most Played On Matisse’s iPod.

I’m not sure what this says about me, but here goes….

25. Bad Case Of Loving You (Doctor Doctor) - Robert Palmer. This is going to sound strange, but this song reminds me of my mom. She’s a rock and roll fan, and I remember being a very, very little girl and watching her dance to this song in our living room.

24. Brass In Pocket – The Pretenders. There’s nobody else here, no one like me…

23. The District Sleeps Alone – The Postal Service.

22. Brave And Crazy – Melissa Etheridge. That’s me, taming all the lions.

21. Born Under A Bad Sign – The Neville Brothers with Buddy Guy.

20. I Need A Man - Eurhythmics. Actually I’m doing just fine in that department. But I love hearing Annie scream.

19. Strangelove – Depeche Mode.

18. Going Out West – Tom Waits.

17. The Continental – Prince. Come and let me do you like you want to be - done. Oh, yes, Your Purpleness, do me - now and always.

16. Erotic City – Prince.

15. Brilliant Mistake – Kate Nauta. Give it up, baby, you’re not in control.

14. Show Me How To Live - Audioslave

13. Boogie Nights – Heatwave. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But I actually have a sneaking fondness for (some) disco.

12. Take Out Some Insurance On Me Baby - Jimmy Reed

11. Somebody Told Me – The Killers.

10. Hung Up – Madonna.

9. Rock and Roll Nigger – Patti Smith

8. Superstition – Stevie Wonder. Awesome. Never get tired of this song.

7. Twilight Zone – Golden Earring. In spite of the fact that I have no earthly idea what this song is about. “My beacon's been moved under moon and star” - what?

6. Burn – Nine Inch Nails.

5. Gratitude – Oingo Boingo.

4. Always On The Run – Lenny Kravitz. Fabulous guitar riff.

3. All My Life – Foo Fighters.

2. Like It Or Not - Madonna. It’s so high school, but still, it’s an anthem for all intimidating women everywhere. “This is who I am, you can like it or not, you can love me or leave me, but I'm never going to stop.”

And the number one most-played song is….

1. I Thought You Were My Boyfriend – Magnetic Fields. Roman turned me onto them. Totally addictive melody and keyboards.

Ring Ring!

Me: hello?
Caller: Hi, do you see couples?
Me: Sometimes. Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for.
Caller: Well, I’m a very successful businessman, and I’m in town with my girlfriend, we’re here in a suite at the Westin. She’s a really beautiful petite Asian lady, very very lovely, and we’d like to see you.

It’s apparently some kind of reflex for certain men to start right out by trying to impress me. Frankly, I don’t care what hotel you’re staying at (since I won’t be coming there) and I really don’t much care how successful you are. I care whether I like you or not. I have great clients who are very wealthy and high-powered guys, and I have great clients who are bartenders and carpenters. You leave all that stuff at the dungeon door as far as I’m concerned. A flogger is a great equalizer.

Me: So, what kinds of activities are you looking for in a session?
Caller: Do you do trampling?

Ah, a trample fan. I like trampling, but I often think it should be classed as a gymnastic event, because damn, even with someone lying flat on the floor, it’s tricky to stand on them and balance on top of them in such a way that you’re pressing down only on well-protected places and not, say, an easily-cracked rib. But I suppose that’s all part of the seem-really-fierce, but-actually-do-no-serious-harm service I provide.

Me: Yes.
Caller: With shoes on?
Me: Possibly, if I think that’s safe for you, yes.
Caller: Full-weight trampling?

Full-weight meaning: you don’t lean against a wall, or hang onto anything. You just stand right up on them. Serious gymnastic balancing - in high heels, no less. On the occasions when I've done this, I always wonder which would be worse: If I hurt someone else doing this, or if I break my bloody ankle falling off them. Either way, it's not something I want to explain to the ER doc.

Me: It depends – have you had full-weight trampling before?
Caller: Oh, it’s my girl-friend, she’s a big masochist, she really likes it.

Huh. That’s unusual, because for whatever reason, trampling is one of those fetishes that has always seemed exclusively male to me. I have never had a woman ask me for it, and I have never seen a woman doing it in a dungeon. I’m not saying a woman never has or never could – but this is a very uncommon request, and it stirs a flicker of response from my bullshit-detector. Not a full-blown wrongness, but definitely a not-quite-rightness.

And even giving this guy the full benefit of the doubt: I may not weigh a lot, but still, the idea of standing, with my shoes on, atop a petite Asian woman – well, unless she’s a bodybuilder with some muscle mass to protect her, I very much doubt that’s going to be safe for her.

Me: I’d have to see her, see her build, and then I’d consider it. I’m not going to do anything that I think is going to injure her.
Caller: Have you done full-weight trampling on a woman before?
Me: No.
Caller: But you’d do it with my girlfriend?
Me: That’s not what I said. I said if it’s possible to do it without injuring her, I will.
Caller: But she really, really wants it.

Bing. Something about his tone sends the bullshit-meter way into the red. Let’s try something…

Me: Can I speak to your girlfriend, please? Maybe she and I should talk about this.

Click. Dead air. He hung up, the wanker. Beautiful Asian girlfriend and a suite at the Westin, my ass. His number came up on caller id - he’s lucky I don’t chase down rude boys. Of course, he’d probably offer to let me walk all over him as punishment.

Piercings



I lost a bead from my Body Circle earring last Thursday night, and so Friday I dropped into a body piercing shop on Broadway to get another one. As I explained what I needed, I pushed back my hair and indicated the bead-less earring with my finger.
“No, no,” the girl behind the counter cried, “while you’re in the shop, don’t touch your piercings.”
I’ve seen signs to this effect in various piercing places - I’m told it's about cross-contamination. You know, touch yourself, touch the counter, leave icky germs on the counter. What I don’t really get – given all those studies about how many people don’t wash their hands after they use the bathroom - is why they think telling you not to touch your jewelry means your hands will be clean.
And I thought to myself, wow, I bet you really wouldn’t approve of what I did with the piercings I did last night. Thursday night in my dungeon, to be exact - I stuck Roman’s chest full of needles and pounded on them so hard they bent. I used a riding crop at first, but then I used just my hand. Slapping needles has to be done carefully, lest one catch one’s fingers on the sharp end of the business. But it can be done, even when one’s target is writhing around and roaring curses at you. The tricky part is that the needles, when impacted, want to start working themselves out. And when the tip is under the skin and you hit it – oh, it gets really noisy. And the skin gets very bruised. Oh darn.
Roman and I refer to this type of play as “making paper clips”, although I don’t think it would be embraced by the paper-clip manufacturers any more readily that professional body-piercers. However, we did not concern ourselves in the least with either office-product design or biological cross-contamination, and we had a marvelous time.


Obligatory Disclaimer: Piercing is not a 100% safe activity. If you are not experienced, you should not do anything like this without the supervision of people who have already done it and know what they are doing. Be sure to use only fresh, sterile needles, and use rubbing alcohol to clean the area before and after you do the piercings. Wear latex (or nitrile) gloves, and change them if you play for a long period or touch unclean stuff during the scene. Use needles once, on one person, then dispose of them in a bio-hazardous waste receptacle (sharps container). Even if it’s done correctly, you may bleed, bruise, get an infection or possibly even scar from this activity. You’ve been warned, proceed at your own risk.