I don’t usually blog on weekends, but Rachel Kramer Bussel is promoting her two new books, She's on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission and He's on Top: Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission, by doing a virtual book tour. She asked me to participate, and today is my day, so I’m making an exception…

From She's On Top, here’s an excerpt a story about a professional dominatrix, called “The Mistress Meets Her Match”, by Kristina Wright.

If you’ve never squeezed a man’s balls in your hand and seen the terror in his eyes, you haven’t known power. If you’ve never cracked a whip and watched a man flinch, you haven’t known anticipation. And if you’ve never had a man grovel at your feet, you haven’t known what it means to be a bitch goddess. These men who come to me, hearts pounding, cocks hard, they know who I am, they know what they want. Because I am a benevolent bitch goddess, I usually give them what they want, but not before they suffer.

The story goes on to detail how the dominatrix meets a man who can be all things to her: submissive, lover, and occasionally, the boss in bed. It’s hot, I recommend it!

I snagged these Technorati tags/Blogger.com tags from Viviane, over at Sex Carnival. So thanks, Viviane!

• bdsm
• bondage
• book
• domination
• erotica
• femdom
• rachelkramerbussel
• submission

Many of you have written to say how much you liked the latest poly column. I'm pleased to hear it. If you'd like to hear more from me and my opinions about poly, you can listen to me on Cunning Minx's podcast, Polyamory Weekly.

I hope you find it interesting. Truthfully, I listened to it and thought, "Oh my God, I rambled on so bad in this! Jesus, I sound like I'd been smoking pot or something." (Which I had definitely not.)

The thing is, I've been speaking and teaching about kink, and also about sex work, for some years now. I have had the opportunity to respond to fairly similar sets of questions from the people I'm talking to, over and over again. So I have developed a pretty camera-ready set of tight, on-point answers to most of the common questions on those topics.

That's not true of poly. True, I've written some about it, but that's totally different. I haven't spoken or taught about it at all, except in very limited ways. So when Minx asked me questions, what she got was my unedited stream of consciousness. My lengthy stream of consciousness, which did not always include a precise answer to her original question. Tight and concise I am not, in this podcast. Oy.

Minx was very sweet about it, though. She split me into two parts, so I'll be on this week and perhaps next week as well, unless she decided to alternate me with something else. And she's a great host, so you should go listen. If you like it, send the lady a little donation, it's a labor of poly-love that she's doing there.

Have a lovely weekend...

The new Control Tower column...

What I’ve been reading lately…

Talk To The Hand: The Utter Bloody Rudeness of the World, or Six Reasons to Stay Home and Bolt the Door, by Lynne Truss. I love observations on society and culture, and I love a good rant, especially when it’s a) about rude behavior and b) written by someone who styles herself “the Queen of Zero Tolerance”. So while this little book’s not what I would call weighty, it’s great fun to read, if only because you’ll find yourself nodding and saying, “yes, yes, I hate it when people do that!”

Fox Evil, by Minette Walters
From Booklist: The title of Walters' latest fright fest comes from a peculiarly virulent kind of skin disorder, in which hair falls out in mangy clumps. It also serves as the delightful nickname of one of Walters' main characters in this compulsive page-turner, which puts a deranged spin on the conventional village cozy. Walters, who has won both the American Edgar and the British Gold Dagger Award, is expert at ratcheting up suspense while she portrays credibly confused and terrified characters meeting their fates. Great psychological acuity in a hair-raising suspense story.

It’s pretty easy for me to find non-fiction I like, but I’m tough to please when it comes to fiction. I wanted to like this mystery novel – it seems like exactly the kind of thing I’d enjoy. And the author has a huge backlist I could buy up.
But while there was nothing really wrong with it, it was definitely not hair-raising. If anything, I was a teensy bit bored. Walters writes well, but the characters didn’t engage me.

Carter Beats The Devil by Glen David Gold
From Booklist: Gold's debut novel opens with real-life magician Charles Carter executing a particularly grisly trick, using President Warren G. Harding as a volunteer. Shortly afterwards, Harding dies mysteriously in his San Francisco hotel room, and Carter is forced to flee the country. Or does he? It's only the first of many misdirections in a magical performance by Gold.

Another one I should have loved, since it’s about the life of a stage magician, and I have a little fetish for non-fiction about the history of magic. (Oddly, I have no desire to actually go see live magic shows, though. It’s the behind-the-scenes elements of the books that I like.) This novel certainly got a lot of critical acclaim. My verdict? Well…not bad. It doesn’t exactly zip along, that’s for sure – the slow pace reminded me of both The Prestige and Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. I did like seeing how the author wove real-life incidents from stage-magic history into the thread. However, like the Walter’s book, I found it rather put-downable. Still, it was a very sweet gift from a man I like playing with, and that alone endeared it to me.

Now, not everybody I see is into heavy intense sensation. But I do have a handful of boys who like it as heavy as I can dish it out.

I’ve written about this kind of scene before, and that may have been what prompted a gentlemen I’ll call the Bicycle Man to come see me. Like the guy in the column, Bicycle Man also likes impact on the ass, just as hard as I can do it. (I can actually get him to the "enough" point, though.)

There are so many different pleasures in BDSM - I could never settle for just one. But there is something viscerally satisfying about hitting something as hard as you can, and since I’m a sadist, I particularly like it when that something is a nicely responsive human body.

And since I’m a generous person, I decided that Jae should meet Bicycle Man, too. I'm strictly a gym queen when it comes to athletics, but Jae played softball in high school and college. Golf, too. She’s got a serious swing.

The three of us had a great time. Wanna see? (The usual disclaimers apply…)

Me lining up the stroke.

She swings and…

The bounce-back.

I do sort of bat like a girl, though, don't I? Jae has great follow-through.

We did catch one stroke just at the moment of impact.

But Jae and I are sure we could capture still more spanking art, so the Bicycle Man will just have to come see us again sometime…

***

Client Update: I still have time open on Wednesday and Friday of this week.

Also: Spring Cleaning at the dungeon continues. That means I'll be around there a lot over this weekend, and I'd love to be distracted from more mundane matters by spending an hour or two playing with someone. Thus, if you'd like a weekend appointment, contact me...

My glamorous life: I spent a lot of my weekend cleaning out a storage room in my workspace. Just over a year ago, when I moved in, I shoved a ton of boxes and excess dungeon furniture into the smallest bedroom and closed the door. I have rarely opened it since. I just haven’t wanted to bother with it.

However, it was high time I dealt with the matter. So Saturday I sorted a dozen large boxes of BDSM equipment into Throw Away, Give Away, and Keep piles. I found some toys I liked and had forgotten I had, some toys that I cannot imagine why I ever bought, and some things even I could not identify.

Luckily, Jae was with me - she was able to remind me about the provenance of a few of them. “That’s the paddle the guy from Montana made for you, you got those clamps when we were in Texas, and that looks like part of that leather sling you and (my ex) used to have in your basement.”

Afterwards, she and I studied the Throw Away pile, with old dildos, worn-out floggers, beat-up cock rings, and broken nipple clamps. She turned to me and said seriously, “Ma’am, I think you need to get some opaque trash bags for this.”

I laughed. “No kidding. The heavy-duty ones, too.” I don’t even want to know what the garbage collectors would make of a can full of my discarded BDSM gear.

The Give Away pile – which is pretty large – will be distributed according to propinquity. There are a few people close to me who get first look, and after they’ve chosen anything they want, then I’ll probably just set out the boxes at our next house party and say, “Take it away.” As I’ve stated before, I like passing along BDSM gear I'm not using. Nerdygirl was there helping out, and I gave her a black leather bar vest with an Onyx Leather tag in it. Raise your hand if you’re a Seattleite who remembers Onyx Leather. Yeah, not very many, huh? But way back in the day, if you wanted kinky leather work done, you went to PJ at Onyx Leather. She was pretty much the only game in town for a while.

So I explained that to Nerdy, and how this was a hand-made vest that been given to me, and I was now giving to her. She looks mighty cute in it.

And now I have a neatly organized room, instead of a disaster area, and a whole bunch of toys that I’d forgotten about to play with again. Kind of like going shopping without spending any money.

The new column...

And an amusing photo comparison that a reader sent me. I suppose I can kinda see the Catherine Deneuve thing in this shot, especially since we both have the widow's peak. But her chin and jaw have an elegant sweep that I lack, and plus I don't have zat sexy French accent...

Have a good weekend...

Warning: Cranky Mistress

Between various snafus with parking meters, dry cleaners and the gas company, I had a rather annoying day yesterday. My two very sweet clients were the high points, I assure you. Oh, and getting my hair done, although I had to be there at nine o’clock in the bloody morning, because my boy was so booked it was the only time I could get with him.

(And spare me any condescending remarks about how you get up at six am every day. I don’t, okay. I do not have kids. I’m a sex worker and a writer. One of the reasons I passed on the joys of parenting and steady paychecks was so I could go to bed at 3am and get up at 11am. Thus, I dislike having to alter my circadian rhythm to match the morning people.)

But after I left the salon, things went swiftly downhill, in ways too banal to detail. Suffice it to say that by late afternoon, I was in no mood to suffer fools gladly.

Enter fool, stage left.

Ring ring!

Me: Hello?

Caller: Mistress?

Me: Yes?

Caller: I need to feel…special. I don’t feel special.

I pause and look around me. It seems to be the same day and same time it was before I answered the phone. I am thus reassured that I have not, in fact, fallen into some kind of time warp wherein I’ve conducted an entire relationship – an unsatisfying relationship, apparently – with the whiney-voiced person on the other end of the phone.

Which leads to me to ask why the hell this yabbo is calling me up to initiate Breakup Conversation #46 with me? And he’s starting in the middle, too. You have to lead up to this line with something like, “I need to talk to you about our relationship…” But these two statements make absolutely no sense to me.

That’s not true, though. I know why he’s saying them. I know exactly what kind of conversation he’s trying to lead me into, and I’m not interested in having it. So I say nothing, hoping he’ll revert to a more appropriate conversational style, and I can get him off the phone.

He doesn’t. Okay, we’re gonna have to play this one through.

Me: Who is this?

Caller: Bob, Mistress.

Me: Bob, have we ever met?

Caller: No, Mistress.

I pause lengthily again. But Bob’s a stubborn fellow and he doesn’t crack.

Me: How’d you get this number, Bob?

He pauses, trying to think of a way of answering that will keep us out of the real world and in Bob’s Non-Sequiter World. Bob has figured out that the longer he can keep a professional girl confused and off-balance conversationally, the longer she’ll stay on the phone with him, trying to sort him out, because he might be money. This is a very common game. Unfortunately for Bob, I don’t care if he’s Bill Gates. I don’t deal with game-players.

Caller: I want to feel…special. My other Mistress…She didn’t make me feel special.

I’m supposed to say, “What would make you feel special?”

I don’t.

Me: How did you get this number, Bob?

Caller: Um… a website.

Me: Okay, so you’re calling about my professional dominance services….

I give him the standard rate/hours/appointments spiel, including the “I’m not really taking very many new clients these days” part. (That happens to be quite true. However, if I think I’d like you, then exceptions will be made.)

Me: If you like, you can leave me your number and I’ll call you if my schedule opens up.

I’m pulling this completely out of thin air, as I don’t ever do that. But it seems like a non-confrontational way of saying don’t call me, I’ll call you.

Caller: Can we… talk?

Me: If you want, Bob, you can leave me your number and I’ll call you if I get room in my schedule. Or if hell freezes over.

Caller: Could I be your slave? Your special slave?

Me: Goodbye.

I hang up, and program him into my phone: NOANSWER17

He calls back about three times in the next twenty minutes. I don’t answer. He didn’t leave a number for me then, either. Which is okay, because I've already got it.

More picture samples, because I'm busy finishing a column, getting my hair done, and being evil to some sweet boys.

Very mistressy!

Someone called this "the Catherine Deneuve shot." It's funny, he's the third person lately to tell me I remind them of her, and I don't see it at all. If you asked me what celebrity I think I resemble, I'd probably say "Marie Osmond", because when I was an teenager, with much rounder cheeks, I used to hear that all the time. That, or Geena Davis, although I'm about a foot shorter than she is.
I just think the angle of my head, and the tousled hair, is reminding people of this shot of Catherine.

And one more resting one, since ya'll liked the other one.

Bye!

Addendum: Client Note
Because I've been out of town and otherwise so unavailable lately, I've decided to take appointments this Saturday and Sunday. This is quite rare for me, so if you've been yearning for a weekend session, carpe diem.

*****

Hi, I'm kind'of in the same industry, and have 1 cross over client; but appointments w/ him are hard for me so wanted maybe some tips from you (since I read your column and respect you) on how to handle him.
I NEVER do this. He likes to tie me up; put a ball gag in my mouth; parade me around; make me do things, etc. I hate it. + he's not that great at it.
The 1st time the top of my hand was numb for 3 months. I think he sees the pictures in the magazines and copies them, or reads the how to articles.
How is it supposed to work? Does a submissive have any rights? I'm a good submissive I guess b/c I take it and endure it. But I hurt and try not to panic.
Any advice you can give me is good. Thanks.

These emails scare me. Dear comrade of mine, stop. Just stop. Do not see this guy anymore. If you hate what he wants you to do, then that’s all there is to say. Don’t see him again.

I could go on and on about how HELL YES submissives have rights, but that’s not the point. You’re not having a healthy dominant/submissive relationship with him, because you don’t like what he’s doing to you, you’re just doing it for the money.

That hand thing? That’s nerve damage. Yes, he’s doing the bondage wrong, although in a good BDSM scene, you’re supposed to tell him that your hands hurt/have gone numb. And he’s supposed to fix that. Frankly, you’re lucky it wasn’t worse. Mobility and sensation don't always come back with nerve damage. Next time it could be your fingers that go numb or lose grip strength.

But seriously, do not see this guy again. I know what you’re talking about, I’ve been there. I have dealt with people I really didn’t like just because they were paying me, and it was bad for my mental health. No more. I know it’s hard to turn down money, but it’s better in the long run. I really believe that if you stop seeing guys you don’t like, you’ll have so much more positive energy to put into your work that you’ll attract really sweet, nice guys who’ll treat you like a princess. That's absolutely what's happened with me.

No one can take care of your physical and emotional safety but you. I hope you can hear what I'm telling you.

As I admitted yesterday, this week has been slow as far as any substantial posts. I feel mildly guilty, but what can I say? No sooner had I returned from Portland than I had to deal with some annoying and time-consuming matters, so it's been rather hectic. But things have calmed down the last few days, and I'm just enjoying being home and settled again, after several weeks of travel, etc.

Sweet events of Thursday included Armani bringing me an Easter basket containing chocolate, champagne, and that gorgeous David Yurman chain I wanted. He spoils me.

Monk and I opted for a very mellow evening in, so he came over with a Stellar's pizza and a complete season of Doctor Who on DVD. I love Stellar's and yes, I'm a big ole nerd, I love Doctor Who. And my Doctor Who geek score is pretty high - I actually went to a Doctor Who convention when I was a kid. I swear.

It was the season with Christopher Eccleston as the ninth Doctor, and he's pretty good, although Tom Baker will always be the real Doctor for me. Monk and I kicked around what other actors might play the Doctor in the future, and we decided that John Cusack and James Spader would do it well. I also voted for Jason Statham, but Monk thought he'd be a bit too violent.

I'm sure I'll be in more of a writing mood next week.

I'm not writing a whole lot this week, am I? Oh well, I'm sure something will inspire me soon.

Meanwhile, here's the new column, straight from the voicemail archives.

Photos: Me looking all mistressy and stuff.

Me resting while Craig snaps pictures of me.

Amusing event of the day: buying and using of those nifty little pineapple-corer gadgets. They actually work reasonably well. Which is good, because my pineapple addiction is getting just a little out of control, and it's way cheaper to buy them whole rather than pre-cut.

At least that was the amusing non-kinky event. There was something involving Blue Eyes, the Magic Wand, and this purple attachment for it that Jae and I refer to as "Gonzo" because it reminds us of the Sesame Street character... But as Monk would say: that's a story for another day.

Professional query: (no, my OTHER profession) If you're a writer and you've used Power Writer or Power Structure software, would you drop me a note? I'm thinking of buying one of them.

Edited to add: I have watched the Alanis Morissette spoof of "My Humps" about twenty-seven times, and still it cracks me up. Brilliant parody. I think I'll watch it again now.

Short Cuts

Another photo sample. And one more.

Other silliness: Complete and exact text of an email I got today...

say my name is mark and i'm looking for a job escoting sexy women on date's. call me at my number XXX- XXX- XXX from 9am to 6pm okay. thank you bye for now

Say Mark? I hate to tell you, pal, but this is not “bye for now”. It’s bye - forever. Don’t even get me started on the general absurdity of this email. I’ve covered that elsewhere. Repeatedly.

No more today, though. I have to get all my tax stuff together and deliver it to the very patient man who does my taxes for me. I hate this stuff, it makes my head hurt just looking at it. (And that’s before I even write the check to the government.)

And then maybe I’ll do a scene where I pretend someone is an IRS Agent and make them recite tax law while I beat them. That would make me happier.

Got the CD from Craig Morey yesterday! I haven't had time to really go through and pick my favorites, but here's a nice one. And here's one more sample.

But now I have boys to torment and a column to finish, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow for more peeks.

Perverted Definitions

Flogging master: someone who excels at telling people how good he is with this many-tailed whip he’s got.

Suspension scene: one where the bottom has to stop and wait for the top to get ready to hang them up in the air.

Bullwhip: a long heavy whip which some people claim to like, and some people claim to know how to use properly, even thought they really don’t.

Mummification: a bondage technique where you wrap someone up like a mummy and don’t talk much.

Sounds: Noises men makes when you insert a long metal rod into their urethra.

Spreader Bar: A long bar you attach ankle cuffs to, or someplace you first take your date hoping to get them drunk so they'll let you put ankle cuffs on them.

St. Andrew's Cross: An X-shaped piece of bondage furniture. Also, the saint’s probable state of mind about the fact that something so kinky is being called by his name.

New Toys

I've gotten an influx of new toys lately. Want to see? First, I went shopping at Mr. S in San Francosco and I now have a vast collection of new, extremely nasty clamps. This picture is not particularly threatening. However, this one is a pair of those clamps in action on Jae's pink bits, and it may frighten people. Rest assured I've done worse to them.

Electricity fans, rejoice. Bruce of KinkyMedical.net was at vending at Kinkfest and from him I bought some new leads and these tiny, very tight little clamps. Look at those needle-y little beaks!

Also at Kinkfest was Sam St. Michael of Hoydengear. That's where my little Cobra Stinger came from, and Sam gave me a couple of new impact toys to try out. (Non-squicky photo.) Short answer: Jae says they're mean. I believe her. The longer one is shot-weighted, so it's heavy. The the shorter, two-tailed one is rubber, and rubber toys are always nasty. I believe Sam calls them "Trouble" and "The Rubber Demon", and I can see why. But it's getting hard to find toys I don't already have. So I'm just all about finding innovations in impact.

I’m on the move today, with my treasured iPod tucked in my pocket. I always think my downloads looks like they belong to someone with a multiple personality. On the one hand, there’s stuff like Get Me Off, by Basement Jaxx, which is mindless nasty techno-dance, and Irresistable Bitch, by Prince, an oldie-goldie by His Purpleness, and SexyBack by, yes, okay, Justin Timberlake.

Then there’s Down On The Street (Take 15) by The Stooges, Living Dead Girl, by Rob Zombie, and Ace Of Spades, by Motorhead.

Schizophrenic.

But no matter. It will entertain me as I catch up with my Seattle life, and then I will in turn entertain you, so stay tuned.

Home

So, got back home from Kinkfest yesterday afternoon. I have had a great time zooming around lately, but I am quite, quite happy to be done traveling for a bit. I like being home, going about my accustomed little routine.

But Kinkfest was delightful. I drove down Thursday, and Friday morning went to the three places I always go in Portland: Powell’s, Countermedia, and Oregon Leather. Books and leather, mmmmm....

Then I went off to help Monk sell rope until it was time to go to the dungeon party. We hadn’t really thought we’d be in the space to play, but the mood overtook us, and while we didn’t do a formal scene exactly, we did get a little aggressive with each other. It was great fun. We joke about teaching a workshop sometime entitled, “Switching On A Dime: Cooperative Intense Sensation Scenes.” Which means: neither one of us is really being submissive to the other, we’ve just figured out how to push each other’s endorphin buttons.

Saturday morning Monk got up at the crack of dawn to go vend, and I slept until eleven and then did the walk of shame (not really) up five floors to my room. Host hotels are so convenient that way. Spent the rest of the day hanging out in the vendor area and chatting, doing a little shopping (pictures of what I bought to come, probably tomorrow) and sticking my head, briefly, in a few workshops.

I’m a real tough sell for workshops. I’ve been going to leather conventions since 1989, so there are very few subjects that I haven’t already seen presented – several times, probably. That doesn’t mean I won’t go see them again, if I think the presenter has a new angle on it – or if it’s a presenter I think is really good. There are certain people on the BDSM conference circuit who are such entertaining speakers that they could teach Flogging 101 and I’d go. They’re just that much fun to watch. Other people, though…Not so much. You can be a really wonderful person, and know your subject, but doing interesting presentations is a skill in itself. So while I am sure there were some good classes, I was there to play and socialize.

Saturday night I had a date with Jae, who has been goading and taunting me for weeks now because she's been wanting a thrashing. How could I refuse such an opportunity? Especially when a lovely, generous, and sincerely twisted pal of mine loaned me her stun gun. (*Yes, I said stun gun. Hey, it’s a low-voltage one, only 150,000v. And only below the waist. It was fine. I loved it so much that now I will have to buy my own.)

I rolled Jae around on the floor, and zapped her girlie bits with the stun gun and the Cobra Stinger, stuck needles in her, and hit her with various nasty implements. I was also feeling a little carnivorous, so I bit her back up so much that a pal later remarked that she looked “as if she’d been to a piranha swinger party.” (Photo, mildly NWF.)

For the end of the scene, I pulled out something I was just sure she’d hate: a nose-clamp, from Axmar. When she saw it, she thought it went on her clit, so she was quite surprised when I slipped it onto her septum.

And I was quite surprised when it sent her even deeper into a submissive space. I had thought surely she’d kick and scream. She even said, “Can you make it tighter, Ma’am?” I was happy to do so, and I loved tugging her face (carefully) to one side and then the other with a line I’d slipped through it.

After that scene wound up, I hung out, chatted and walked around the dungeon a bit, and then we went back to our room and collapsed into bed.

Sunday was mellow, lots of social time, and a very nice private wind-down party given by a lovely Portland lady I’ve known for years. So thank you to her for hosting us.

Now I’m going to get caught up with all the boys I’ve missed seeing the last few weeks. I have new toys and some new ideas, and soon I’ll have new photos as well. I love my life.

* Caution: I’m a highly experienced BDSM player, and so is Jae. I’ve been playing with her for over nine years, and I know her overall medical status and her pain tolerance very well. I know how to play with electricity without causing serious harm. You should NOT just start randomly zapping people with any kind of electrical instrument without being thoroughly educated in how that’s done and the potential risks, because electricity is something that, done wrong, can seriously injure or kill someone. So be fucking careful.