You know, I usually try to not resort to profanity and personal insults when I have a negative opinion about someone. I feel it’s a failure of creativity, for one thing. As a writer, I generally think I should come up with something better. And just in terms of rational discourse, that kind of thing doesn’t advance a discussion.

However, there are exceptions to that. This is one of them, because I am angry, and these people do not deserve thoughtful refutation.

So, Carl Prine of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review? Fuck you, asshole. Your snarky piece about how prostitutes and their clients tend to vote Democratic is tacky, clumsy, uncalled-for and offensive. It’s an obvious attempt to smear Democrats, because after all, if dirty filthy hookers and “johns” like them – not to mention pimps and transsexual sex workers - that’s bad, right? You’re a leering prat and I hope you get crotch rot.

(You’re also a lousy investigative reporter. “Johns” ? No one says johns anymore, you idiot. That term was out-of-date back in the eighties. And putting it in McCain-esque quotes like that, as if it’s a new and daring bit of street-slang, makes it even lamer.)

And Kathryn Jean Lopez: Fuck you, you sanctimonious bitch, for linking to the piece on The National Review Online by saying: “What Sells in Pennsylvania: Some Pennsylvania prostitutes are clear which party they want to go to.”
I suppose when one’s party is flailing as desperately as yours is, you need to clutch at anything you can to make yourself feel one-up. Or – as I look at pictures of you - maybe it’s evidence of a deeper type of insecurity. Either way, you lose.

You don't see as many of these types of sneering put-downs of sex workers as you used to. But man, it really makes me mad when I do.

A few notes on social events…

First, a special hello to the people I met last night at a lovely private event. Jae and I enjoyed seeing you all.

If you like pretty women’s feet, there’s a party coming up for you in Seattle! I will be appearing at the grand re-launching of the Seattle Footnight Parties on Thursday November 13th! If you’re interested, check out the web site for more information and registration.

I attended several of these parties when they were happening a couple of years ago in Seattle, and they were great fun. They stopped happening for a while, so I’m pleased that local domme/model Kourhina has gotten something happening for all the local foot-loving men. The party organizers have got a great space, and I think it’ll be a very successful party.

And if the website is correct, several other cool ladies I know are going to be there: Lady Lydia and Mistress Carmen are slated to appear. So is Tasty Trixie, who I know only through our blogs, but whom will be pleased to meet in Real Life.

A new Stranger, in which I speculate about politicians and the Kink Vote...

Bye!

Random Sex Tip #47

It’s been my observation that very often, when men are having trouble reaching an orgasm, it’s not because they aren't enjoying the sex, it's just because they’re thinking too much. They are too much in their head - and not the little one.

(Absent there being a real physiological issue, of course – fatigue, for example, or a prescription drug that’s slowing things down.)

It could be work matters that are intruding into his mind, or some nagging bit of sexual anxiety. It happens to women, too, of course. But I think with men, the trick is to do at least one of two things:

1) Give them something compelling to look at. Men are generally visual creatures, no big news there. So if there’s nothing happening for him to watch, give him something. Whatever it is you’re doing, shift positions so he can see you clearly, and arrange yourself so as to present the prettiest picture. Making more noise will probably help, too. That added stimulus will help occupy the part of his brain that’s getting distracted from the sex.

2) Put something in his mouth. I’m serious. I have seen it over and over again – if a man is having trouble getting off, a body part in his mouth will focus him and push him over the edge. Could be a pussy, a cock, a nipple, your tongue, your toes, whatever. No matter what it is, if you like it sucked and he knows that, then push that oral-fixation button, baby. And if he doesn’t orgasm - well, you’ve got his tongue in a happy place, so that’s all good. Letting him give you pleasure is a smooth way to shift into some other sexual gear, if need be. Cocks can get over-stimulated and balk. Giving them a little time to cool off and then circling back around to them often works better than trying to insist that they come now.

Naturally sex doesn’t have to end in an orgasm to be good, hot sex. But when you want one, you want one! So happy sexing…

A couple of new photos in the Flickr Stream...


And also...

***

Letters From Readers

I found your website on the internet, and actually, I'm not emailing for a session. I'm emailing because I want your opinions.

I'm a 25-year-old man not learning about submission and domination but learning more about myself. I need to know what it is about men that makes them want to serve you completely…your personal house slaves.

I ask because I have noticed that when I feel chemistry with a woman I feel a desire to be completely controlled by her, but not in the way that might be familiar to you….I feel seriously deprived emotionally, and sometimes I feel like all I want is to serve a woman hand and foot because of an emotional need to please rather than to be put down or controlled. In other words, I don't like the silly domination games such as, "Clean the kitchen while you’re naked." The kind of games that are designed to see how far a person would go to serve the dominatrix.

As an example, my best friend is actually a very beautiful lesbian with whom I have a lot of chemistry, but who obviously would never have sex with me. She is a very materialistic girl, and I've found that nothing makes me happier than to make her happy and to talk to her. I actually don't even like pursuing straight girls anymore because I'm intrigued by how she makes me feel. And of course, the fact that she's unavailable makes her more tantalizing, but that's one of the things I want to understand.

I want to know why your slaves do what they do. Do you find them to be emotionally involved with you? Or do they expect that eventually you will have sex with them and become disappointed when you don't?

I'm asking you because this is the kind of thing I can't discuss with most people, but of course, it wouldn't surprise you. Thank you if you do even read this email, and more so if you actually answer it. Emailing you has actually been somewhat helpful.

Well, just between you and I – I do not, in fact, have full-time slaves in the sense that you mean.

I know, I know, it's practically heresy for a dominatrix to say that, but it's true. I don’t have them because while I love having control of someone else in erotic situations, and I’m pleased to maintain some low level of dominant/submissive energy with certain people even out of scene, I don’t want to have total control of another person every single minute of every single day. I’m not that kind of dominant. To have a relationship, ethically and skillfully, with someone you call your slave is a huge responsibility that I don’t want. So I don’t do it.

Moreover, I think strict, highly-polarized D/s relationships are extremely difficult to sustain over more than a few months of time. (That is, they are if you see each other very often. If you don't see each other very much, it's easier.) I’ve known a few people who were able to do day-in/day-out relationships like that, but not many. It is not nearly as common as BDSM fiction would have you think.

However, of the people I know who have strict D/s relationships – some of them are sexual with their slaves, some are not. It’s a matter of personal style, and the wishes of those involved. But I would definitely say that they are all emotionally involved with each other. It’s a very deep emotional connection to have that kind of relationship with someone.

Now, I have to say: I’m somewhat baffled by this letter. If the kind of control you fantasize about is not the kind you think I do, then why are you asking me for advice?

But if you’re just asking for my opinion in general, I’d say that just based on the situation you’re describing… you’re an emotional masochist. And that’s not a good thing.

That’s not a real psychological term, of course, and it’s not a BDSM term, either. But you’re engaging in an unrequited love/lust thing with a bitchy-but-beautiful lesbian who doesn’t return your feelings. You imply that you’re giving her money or gifts or something? And you’re not even trying to find a woman who might love you back? I call that emotional masochism, my friend. I will bet you any amount of money that the situation you're describing is not going to end in you being happy and getting what you want.

I think you need to work out whatever is so fascinating to you about this kind of interaction, or else you’re going to keep doing it over and over. You’re only 25, so nip this in the bud now and learn how to have real relationships, because whether you're vanilla or kinky or somewhere in between, being attracted to unavailability is a recipe for frustration and unhappiness.

There are many different motivations to be a submissive, and I’m not one to say “Your motives are valid - but you over there, yours are not.” But I think a spell of good talk therapy would teach you a lot about yourself that you need to know, and then you can make a better decision about whether you really want to be controlled by another person.

Good lord, I'd have run for Vice-President myself if I'd known I'd get $150 thousand dollars worth of new clothes. Wow. I mean, I spend more on clothes than the average woman, and I am also fortunate enough to have people who are very, very generous to me in that way. I get clothes from Saks and Neiman Marcus, I know how much designer stuff costs, and still, that's a lot of money.

Especially right now. I myself have an unusual opportunity today: I've got a couple of hours to kill in Atlanta, where there is - drumroll, please - a Neiman Marcus store. I like NM, and we don't have one in Seattle, you see. So when I first booked this trip, I had thought I'd take the opportunity to do a little post-parental retail therapy. I was quite looking forward to it.

But you know, I have a feeling I'm not going to be able to bring myself to spend any money. I'm just that uneasy. It's disappointing, but I just don't think I can justify it to myself. I do feel that in the long term, the economy will recover itself, and my personal financial life will be okay. But today, even though I am not experiencing any let-up whatsoever in my business, I don't think I'm going to be comfortable buying any expensive clothes.

Which is a shame, because I would like to. Is it too late to declare myself a candidate for VP?

A slightly late Wednesday post... I'm having a nice, mellow time at my father's place out on Tybee Island. Every time I come out here, I think I need to come here in say, January, and rent one of beachfront condos that otherwise sit vacant all winter. And spend two weeks or so writing for eight hours every single day, no distractions. There's not a lot to do on Tybee in the winter, which is perfect. I'd go have dinner at Dad's restaurant every night, bundle up and walk on the beach a bit, but otherwise, sit at the computer and hammer out... all the stuff I'd like to hammer out.

But I'm pleased to be heading home tomorrow. I fly from Savannah to Atlanta, and then I have about five hours to kill before my flight to Seattle. That's a long time to hang out at the airport, even with WiFi. I'm seriously considering getting in a cab and going to up Lenox Mall to do a little shopping. (Or maybe I'd take MARTA, although I'm not familiar with the system.)
It's either that or I find a Gold's Gym and get in a workout. Exercise versus retail, that's a tough one...

The visit with my Mom is going fine. Guess what? She is just as obsessed as I am with the election. Must be something genetic, huh? We're talking about it incessantly, and we pretty much agree on everything. My sweet little Southern-lady, deeply-Catholic mother absolutely foams at the mouth when she talks about Bush and Cheney. She loathes them. And like me, she's also disappointed in McCain and enraged by Palin. She's already cast her vote for Obama.

Her husband hasn't said as much, but I think he's considering voting for Obama, too. For him even to be on the fence about it is significant. This is an affluent, conservative, older white man, former military, pillar of the business community, born and raised right here in Atlanta. He's been quietly but steadily Republican all his life. If this type of man is doubting McCain, that's a bad sign for that campaign. Anything could happen, but...

***

Also, as promised: pictures!

So, I'm in Atlanta visiting Mom, and then Thursday I go over to my Dad's. And somewhere in there before Wednesday, I also have to write a column. Thus, I'm pulling the ace card of all sex bloggers from up my sleeve: sexy pictures. Like this.



I think pictures and Twitters will be all I'm good for until Thursday.

I'm traveling today, but I got a note from sex blogger Catalina asking me to link to this! It's a fund-raiser for someone who's in need. Pop over and take a look...

Bye!

Some days, the writing-clever-things mode in my brain goes on vacation. Today? Was one of those days.
But I have such wonderful fabulous people in my life who love me even when I'm not super-witty. Thank you, fabulous people.
And I have pretty pictures to look at. Monk likes this one.



I'll be clever again soon...

The new column, in which I reveal a secret and somewhat taboo fantasy. Don't judge me.

In other political gossip, I did get a nice email from Bill Whittle, the guy who wrote the National Review Online article I blogged about last week. Someone told him I'd written about his piece, and we had a pleasant exchange about it. It's safe to say he and I don't agree about the overall health care issue. He says that having free health care would makes us slaves. I think that Mr. Whittle has no idea how difficult it is to make even one person a really good slave, let alone a nation of them. Sure, we'd all be in chat rooms and on personals sites, saying we were slaves, but in reality we'd be whining, demanding, manipulative do-me queens, who expected our government overlords to fall out of bed every morning in full fetish attire and spank our butts before they even had a cup of coffee. Trust me on this, Mr. Whittle - in six months our liberal Masters and Mistresses would be running for the exits. It's not for wimps, this slave-making business.

But he disagreed with something I said in that post. I represented him as having his mind firmly made up on the matter, but he says that's not so. Mr. Whittle says, "I will be the first person to admit when I am wrong, if I can be convinced I was wrong by a sound argument supported by facts and logic. To say I changed my mind is a badge of honor for me."

Well, all right then, I stand corrected. Let the record show his statement. Let the record also show that he complimented the picture of me in the white dress. Always nice to find some points of agreement with everyone you meet...

I got a CD from Craig Morey today - all the images from the last shoot. Good lord, there are over a thousand images here. Some of them are fabulous, like the samples... and some of them will never see the light of internet if I have anything to say about it.

It'll take me a while to go through and pick out my real favorites, so check the Flickr feed as I slowly upload the good ones. But here's a snapshot of me in the place where all good photos have their genesis: the makeup chair.



I'm very very pleased to have new images. So thank you to Craig, for his lovely work!

A new podcast! Monk and I read a letter from a woman who asks, "What qualifies someone as kinky?" Then Monk and I address that, and then joke a bit about how East Coast people think too much. Next letter: a man asks me about seeing pro dommes, and Monk and I talk about a kink scene as compared to cooking. Monk talks about his own experiences as a professional dominant. About fifteen minutes.

Monk and I need to go record some more episodes, this is the last one in the chute. So if you have long and complex questions about BDSM or sex work or polyamory or quantum mechanics* or the global economy**, and you're okay with some kidding, write us. We may read your letter on the air and give you the benefit of whatever wisdom/sarcasm we possess.


*Well, not really. I mean, you could ask us, but...

** Okay, definitely not. Unless it's something I could answer by quoting you an article in The Economist.

Well, I had a busy weekend. For one thing, I taught a class at a writer's convention, which I was excited but somewhat stressed about. It's one thing to teach how-to classes to kinky people. I know, generally, how to teach stuff like that.

But teaching a class full of authors how to write about kink, or sex work, or polyamory in fiction? That's different. And I just never know how people outside the love bubble - especially women - are going to respond to the full-on "Mistress Matisse" experience. But the attendees were cool, and it turned out to be a lot of fun. I also got to hang out with Hannah and Sparkle, which was great.

Another cause for happiness: I have six whole days before I have to fly anywhere! I'm going to Atlanta on the 19th, to visit my family, and I'm coming back the 23rd. (Special thanks go out to the man appropriately nicknamed Jet, for scoring me a first class ticket. That's a really nice thing to have on any flight, but if I'm traveling coast to coast, it's absolutely mandatory.)

So if you're wanting to get time with me, contact me soon. I have some time available this week, and I'd love to see some of the friends I've had to regretfully decline due to my recently-insane schedule.

***

In reference to Friday's post: I got some really interesting and thoughtful responses to the question of whether or not health care is "a right", and I choose some to post here. I must say, it's such a pleasure and an honor to have such smart readers. Thanks for your thoughts!

Just For Some Political Balance…

This is why I don’t think I’m ever going to be a really gold-star liberal. I sorta kinda agree a little bit with this article in the National Review.

I know, the National freakin’ Review, bastion of hard-right-wingers everywhere. Don’t ask how I got to the link, I read way too much political stuff, and I’m not sure it’s entirely good for me. I was ranting about the general idiocy of Lou Dobbs to a friend yesterday. He stared at me thoughtfully and said, “You should really not be allowed to watch TV or read the newspapers until after the election.” I think he feared for my blood pressure or something.

(Hah, like you could keep me from reading. Good luck with that. So, anyway, I somehow clicked through some link or other and wound up reading the article. This post will make no sense to you unless you do, too, but the article is pretty short, so you can click over there and then come back.)

It’s about health care, and the question author Bill Whittle poses is: is health care a right? He’s springboarding off the answer Obama gave in the last debate – which was “Yes.” Mr. Whittle, you will not be astonished to learn, disagrees.

Now understand, I have not spent any more time studying the problem of health care than the average healthy person. That means: not much. But it’s true that when people say “health care is a right”, I think to myself, really?

I mean, a right. Seriously? I don’t understand that. I can see, as any reasonable person can, that everyone having all the health care they need is by far the most desirable state of affairs, and that it’s a worthy goal for us to strive for as compassionate human beings. I can understand the idea that we should all make some contribution to the world and be kind to people who are less fortunate than ourselves. I have no argument with that.

But a right? I think of rights as pretty basic things: life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, the right to free speech and free association – those are examples of rights, in my mind. I don’t know if having health care, as needful as it is, is in that category to me. I generally dislike “slippery slope” arguments, because they don’t really address the issue. But Whittle’s extension of the idea to food and shelter has a certain punch: you will die without food, so why is food not “a right”?

Of course, many people would say that being fed and housed is a right. I’m not saying that it’s wrong to want to care for other people, and to work towards that goal, I’m simply saying I don’t understand how those things are rights. Those types of statements feel to me like they’re watering down the idea of what a right really is. When I think of rights, I think of things that I have, inside me, which should not be taken away from me by any outside force. They are things that are integral to me being a human being. I don’t inherently have health care, or food or shelter. I must create some situation in which I get them. Or someone else must create it. But it doesn't just happen.

It may well be that I just have a blind spot about this. I’ve almost never been legally employed by anyone, and I have definitely never been employed anywhere that had health care benefits. Thus, I’ve always had to provide my own health care insurance. That’s just…what you do, in my head. In fact, I’ve never even entertained the idea of getting any form of government assistance, like unemployment, welfare, food stamps, student loans/grants, or anything like that. I don’t think those programs are bad, I just haven’t participated in them. The whole concept of anyone else being involved in providing my health care is foreign to me. I suppose when I’m old I’ll make use of Medicare, if it’s still there. And if I try, I can certainly construct a scenario in my head – an extremely unpleasant one- which would end with me applying for government aid. So I'm not saying "oh, I'm too good for that, I'd never do it."

I can see that there’s some disconnect between my ideas that “It’s okay that taxes fund some food/shelter/medical care for people who need it” and “But it’s not a right”. If it’s not a right, then why is it acceptable for the government to pay for it? I don’t know. That’s a gap in my reasoning that I can’t explain. But my point is not that the government shouldn’t help people. It’s just that the idea of my having a right to some external thing I didn’t work for/pay for is puzzling to me. Unlike the author, I’m not unwilling to be persuaded to another point of view. If someone makes a clear and cogent argument to me about how health care really qualifies as a right, then I’ll change my mind. I haven’t heard that yet, though.

In contrast to yesterday's Blackberry shot - Craig Morey sent me some samples from our shoot two weeks ago. He does such yummy work.




(Bigger versions in the Flickr feed.)

Lately whenever I post studio photos, someone invariably remarks, "You don't look very domme-ly." To which I reply, "Just because I'm a dominatrix does not mean I have to brandish a riding drop and sneer in every damn photo I ever pose for." I've done the corset-and-thigh-high-boots shots. That was fine then, and some of the pictures turned out very nicely, but I'm over it. It's boring. I cannot do a good shoot if I'm just bored to pieces by what I'm doing. I wanted pictures of me in the clothes that make me feel sexy and good. And I assure you, I can deploy my cuffs, clothespins, floggers, electrodes, et cetera just as well in a designer dress - or jeans, for that matter, or nothing at all - as I can wearing a plastic outfit from Hot Topic.

What I would like to do, sometime, is a shoot where I just play with someone - someone I have a real and genuine connection with - and someone shoots it. No posing, no "wait, stop, that's good, but do it again with your shoulder turned this way" directions. That I would do, and I'd enjoy it. So maybe when my life slows down a bit I'll see about arranging such a thing. Meanwhile, enjoy the previews of coming attractions.

I'm flying home from Vegas today.



It's been great - we lolled by the pool, we gambled a bit, we shopped. (That's me at the shops in the Venetian Hotel - a very, very dangerous place.)

We also saw Zumanity, which was delightful. It's funny - there are not many "fantasy" careers that really appeal to me. I think I have a fantasy career, frankly. So I don't wish I was a rock star, or a supermodel, or a movie star. (Or a vice-presidential candidate.)

The only thing that ever makes me fantasize about a different life is watching Cirque du Soleil shows. I'm not going to run away and join the circus - although I did take trapeze and Spanish Rope lessons for a while - but Cirque du Soleil makes me wish, just for little while, that I could. Even though I've seen lots of their shows, they always have moments of such beauty and grace that I envy the performers, even though I have some idea of what physical rigors they go through in order to achieve it. Our bodies are such fragile and impermanent things, and the art they make also lasts only a brief moment - but it's so lovely in that moment. It just moves me.

I'm having a lovely time in Las Vegas. Since the stock market is tanking, I've decided to take my life savings and see if I can win a fortune here instead. The odds can't be much worse than Wall Street.
Okay, I'm kidding, I'm not really going to do that. Maybe I'll put twenty dollars into a slot machine instead, that's about my speed for gambling.
Meanwhile - a new podcast, in which Monk and I talk sex work strategies for safety and emotional self-care.