Jam packed day today – first, the Steve O interview and then a fast draft of the material, then I have a session with a client, followed by a quick meeting with my kinky carpenter – it's time for some new dungeon furniture – and then dash home to edit and polish the Steve O piece, then later, a date with Roman that I've been looking forward to…
So I'll probably be out till god-knows-when being decadent with him, and get about four hours sleep before I get up early Friday morning to do a once-over on the Steve O piece and send it off the The Stranger. And then I get to see one of my favorite clients, Milo, and then I go to dinner with Max and another couple we know, and after dinner I go off to meet Miss K at the Wet Spot women's party, because she's in cruising mode, and I'm there to offer her my immoral support.
And Max and I are planning to go out to the Wet Spot campout for the afternoon on Saturday, but you know, he may have to carry me, because just looking at that all-fun-stuff-but-majorly-busy schedule makes me a little limp.
I can see my future, and it involves several cans of Rock Star energy drink…
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Meeting of the Minds
The good people at The Stranger have asked me to write a piece about crazy-ass performance artist/stuntman Steve O, former star of the MTV show, "Jackass", who's doing a show here on the 9th. They think, as someone who also enjoys doing physically intense stuff, that I'd bring a special POV to it.
I'm now researching this guy as fast as I can, because I've never seen him perform, and in fact, I'd never heard of him until this came up. But from what I'm seeing on the web, he seems to be a rather interesting fellow…And his publicist is overnighting me a DVD of his, so that should educational.
So, my question is: is Steve O a masochist? I mean, the shit he does to himself – or has other people do - wow, it's pretty extreme. Most BDSM people I know would not do most of his stunts. (Including me, for the record.)
However, one of his most well-publicized stunts is him stapling himself – specifically, he staples his scrotum to his leg. I do know a few folks who engage in, as they call it, erotic stapling. (That's a phrase you don't hear every day, isn't it?) I wonder if Steve O would let someone else staple him, or he prefers to stay in control of that? I did find an interview with him where he mentions having Gen from the Genitorturers help him nail his scrotum to his thigh. I wonder if he liked that?
I'm doing a phone interview with him tomorrow at noon – so stay tuned for updates on that…
The good people at The Stranger have asked me to write a piece about crazy-ass performance artist/stuntman Steve O, former star of the MTV show, "Jackass", who's doing a show here on the 9th. They think, as someone who also enjoys doing physically intense stuff, that I'd bring a special POV to it.
I'm now researching this guy as fast as I can, because I've never seen him perform, and in fact, I'd never heard of him until this came up. But from what I'm seeing on the web, he seems to be a rather interesting fellow…And his publicist is overnighting me a DVD of his, so that should educational.
So, my question is: is Steve O a masochist? I mean, the shit he does to himself – or has other people do - wow, it's pretty extreme. Most BDSM people I know would not do most of his stunts. (Including me, for the record.)
However, one of his most well-publicized stunts is him stapling himself – specifically, he staples his scrotum to his leg. I do know a few folks who engage in, as they call it, erotic stapling. (That's a phrase you don't hear every day, isn't it?) I wonder if Steve O would let someone else staple him, or he prefers to stay in control of that? I did find an interview with him where he mentions having Gen from the Genitorturers help him nail his scrotum to his thigh. I wonder if he liked that?
I'm doing a phone interview with him tomorrow at noon – so stay tuned for updates on that…
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Thanks a whole bunch for all the cool hotel suggestions, folks, I think we've now got something lined up. But you were all extremely helpful!
Let's go on into...
Books I'm reading…
Beyond Defensive Tactics: Advanced Concepts, Techniques, and Tricks for Cops on the Street, by Loren Christensen. Judging by his remarks, I'm guessing Mr. Christensen and I would not make ideal dining companions. Like many cops I've met, his experiences in the line of duty have not enhanced his overall view of humanity. Small wonder - cops do a job not many of us would want to do, and they certainly deal with people I would not wish to deal with. But then this book is published by Paladin Press, which is - how shall one say? - a rather specialized publishing house. Don't expect anything warm and fuzzy out of Paladin Press.
As the title states, this book is written for cops. But some of his philosophy about mental readiness and suggestions about types of physical self-defense are very applicable to regular citizens as well. It's sprinkled with some of Mr. Christensen's personal-experience stories, which make it read easily. This book reminds me of my as-yet-unrealized desire to take up some form of martial arts.
The Shifting Tide, by Anne Perry. I'm hooked on both of Perry's historical detective lines.
The Map That Changed the World: William Smith and the Birth of Modern Geology, by Simon Winchester. This is the story of William Smith, the orphaned son of an English country blacksmith, who created the world's first geological map and ultimately became the father of modern geology. This author has a knack for making you feel like you know the people he's writing about, which means everything he writes is interesting.
The Burglar on the Prowl, by Lawrence Block. More light fiction. I've faithfully followed this series from Mr. Block for years. Frankly, it's not what it used to be – the earlier "Burglar" books were much better in terms of plotting and believability. But I continue to buy them just because the main characters have become friends of mine, and also because, as a writer, I want to study the style. I like Mr. Block's touch with dialogue, and he's a real smoothie with those expository transitions – something I find particularly troublesome when I write.
Let's go on into...
Books I'm reading…
Beyond Defensive Tactics: Advanced Concepts, Techniques, and Tricks for Cops on the Street, by Loren Christensen. Judging by his remarks, I'm guessing Mr. Christensen and I would not make ideal dining companions. Like many cops I've met, his experiences in the line of duty have not enhanced his overall view of humanity. Small wonder - cops do a job not many of us would want to do, and they certainly deal with people I would not wish to deal with. But then this book is published by Paladin Press, which is - how shall one say? - a rather specialized publishing house. Don't expect anything warm and fuzzy out of Paladin Press.
As the title states, this book is written for cops. But some of his philosophy about mental readiness and suggestions about types of physical self-defense are very applicable to regular citizens as well. It's sprinkled with some of Mr. Christensen's personal-experience stories, which make it read easily. This book reminds me of my as-yet-unrealized desire to take up some form of martial arts.
The Shifting Tide, by Anne Perry. I'm hooked on both of Perry's historical detective lines.
The Map That Changed the World: William Smith and the Birth of Modern Geology, by Simon Winchester. This is the story of William Smith, the orphaned son of an English country blacksmith, who created the world's first geological map and ultimately became the father of modern geology. This author has a knack for making you feel like you know the people he's writing about, which means everything he writes is interesting.
The Burglar on the Prowl, by Lawrence Block. More light fiction. I've faithfully followed this series from Mr. Block for years. Frankly, it's not what it used to be – the earlier "Burglar" books were much better in terms of plotting and believability. But I continue to buy them just because the main characters have become friends of mine, and also because, as a writer, I want to study the style. I like Mr. Block's touch with dialogue, and he's a real smoothie with those expository transitions – something I find particularly troublesome when I write.
Monday, August 30, 2004
New York City People, Help Me!
Max and I are going to be in town in late September and we're looking for a cool hotel, preferably on the Upper West Side. We had some recommendations, but The Olcott Hotel went residential, The Beacon Hotel is full, and I can't get The Excelsior Hotel to answer the frickin' phone. I'm considering The Gershwin, although it's more downtown.
So I'm looking for suggestions - preferably something with small suites/a kitchenette, and reasonably priced. We don't mind a something a little off-beat or faded as long as it's clean and safe and convenient.
Max and I are going to be in town in late September and we're looking for a cool hotel, preferably on the Upper West Side. We had some recommendations, but The Olcott Hotel went residential, The Beacon Hotel is full, and I can't get The Excelsior Hotel to answer the frickin' phone. I'm considering The Gershwin, although it's more downtown.
So I'm looking for suggestions - preferably something with small suites/a kitchenette, and reasonably priced. We don't mind a something a little off-beat or faded as long as it's clean and safe and convenient.
I just never know what I'm going to find in my email...Sometimes it's something very sweet that I enjoy reading, like this note from Vermont, one of my favorite boys -
Better luck elsewhere...What you're seeking isn't here.
And then I get things like this, which manages to evoke both a little pity and a certain amount of distaste in me, since what he's describing is just so not my thing ...I would like to tell you what a wonderful time I had with you. It was just so comfortable and connecting as well as incredibly hot (and not just on my ass!). I really appreciate how far you have helped me grow into my masochistic
self. You are always so welcoming and understanding of my nature, taking me to
new places and always looking out for my best interest.
I just loved the way you really laid into me with that flogger! I could see how
satisfying it was for you to give it your all without having to hold back. Very
nice for us both. Glad I have such a tough old hide or I'd miss out on seeing
you have such a good time!
I absolutely flew to, and kissed the sky when you hooked me up to that electrical unit! Wow! Zappo! Carumba! The look of fire was in your eye as you lifted me up and took a sip of the shell of my soul. I felt like a mirror, showing you your own beautiful sadistic self. I felt young and full of strength as I flexed and writhed under your caring command. Thank you for telling me that you liked me touching your back while you worked your magic…it's very connecting. I would like to continue exploring that avenue of sweet surrender. It really seems like it is a way that you can walk right up and pluck the precious fruits of my soul and taste them. Very delicious as you offer me a taste at the same time.
I had the best time yet kissing your feet. Something about having writhed for you (and me, no doubt!) brought me to a place where I wanted to communicate the sense of love I felt as your dear pet, and may I say, as a friend. I know you could tell. My heart was opened by your, shall we say, electrifying ministrations. I see that you trust me and for that I am grateful.
Hello, I am (DELETED), formerly named by my previous Mistress since 1976. I finally refused an order after 27years and was left to die. I have many problems to overcome, including finding a true Mistress I can devote 24 hours/7 days a week to. She chose another and I felt abandoned after all. Is there a Mistress who will take me and not abandon me? I know nothing about you but assure you that my only wish is to be completely controlled by my woman no matter what it takes! It is who I am. I am 49 years old, still attractive, with body hair that needs to be removed and the brand that needs to be imprinted for the superior female I long for! I pray to know you! Please respond, if I am worthy! I am searching long and hard for the right female to totally degrade myself for and fall in love with. If this is not you, will you refer me to the proper superior female? I thought I found the right one but I failed or could not live to her standards. I am very unhappy
due to this-but I can change nothing-but serve another. I am feminine in nature and prefer to be feminized and made to be a maid. If this does not
please you, scold me! I prefer to be on my knees-and licking my queen's
fountain of knowledge! In my previous experience, it has been my greatest joy! My income and all my service belong to my new Queen. I will proudly serve if no sex is available. However, I beg to service your pussy with my tongue! It is my greatest pleasure-particularly in panties and bra and under the strictest bondage! If this is not your pleasure, then chastise me in your strongest words! I wish to give all of me to the right woman! Please forgive this humble slut!Please tell me what you
demand!
Humbly Yours…
Better luck elsewhere...What you're seeking isn't here.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Sunday Morning: The dungeon looks like a rope bomb went off – there are hemp lines dangling from the ceiling, from points in the walls, and there are many small piles of rope scattered around on the floor. On top of the bondage table, electrical wires twist like Laocoon's snakes around some rounded cylindrical metal objects. And a slender rod - a cane, in fact - lies on the carpet, doing its best to look innocent, and failing signally.
It looks like someone had a very good time down there…
It looks like someone had a very good time down there…
Thursday, August 26, 2004
I made an flip remark in a post Tuesday about not running a dating service. It's true, I'm not. But sometimes I amuse myself thinking about doing just that.
It would be a highly selective service, this fantasy business of mine, and I'd only accept clients who I felt displayed the utmost sincerity in their desires. Maybe I'd even audition each client by playing with them, just so I'd really be able to tell prospective match-ups all about them. Finding the right person might take a while, but eventually, I'd hook them up with the pervy partner of their dreams.
I'd able to tell all the sweet single submissive men who are looking for a Mistress how to present themselves, how to charm and delight her in that first meeting, what to say, what to do, how to win her. And I'd know how to attract single dominant women to my business, because, after all, I've been one.
But it wouldn't just be Mistresses and male submissives - I'd take all kinds of clients. Dominant or submissive, male or female, whatever. As long as you're kinky and you met my requirements, I'd do my best to find you a partner.
But my requirements would be stringent. For starters, you'd have to be at least somewhat active in the BDSM community, because I think it keep our kink in perspective to be around other perverts on a regular basis. You learn that you are neither the biggest and baddest, nor the smallest and meekest. You learn that everyone starts out not knowing shit, everyone makes mistakes, and everyone's kink evolves and mutates over the years.
I'd probably reserve the right to demand a fashion and grooming makeover, if I felt the situation called for it.
There would be a reading list of BDSM theory, history, and famous fiction, and maybe even a written test on these things.
(It is not lost on me that these three requirements are also things I set out as rules when I take on a personal submissive. I may be a control-queen, but hey, I'm a self-aware control-queen.)
Whatever your preferences might be, you would have to pass a basic competency test in that arena.
And I think registered Republicans would pay double, because finding a partner might lead to them having children, and I feel that there should be some kind of environmental impact fee for that.
There's only one small problem with this appealing fantasy: I'd go bankrupt, because there's no money in this. But it's a lovely idea, and I'd be very, very good at it. I mean, it's quite similar to what I do now: I have a select clientele, I get people to tell me about who they are, and what their desires are, and then, working together, we fulfill those desires.
But I swear I must have been a matchmaker in a former life. Even now, I've got a femme lesbian friend, a top, who's looking for a butch bottom, and I'm going to be helping her with that…And I know two other pretty women who are looking for dominant men, and I think of them when I meet toppy guys sometimes, wondering, Hmmn, would she like him? Maybe I should introduce him to her…
So that's one of my fantasy careers – running a kinky matchmaker service.
It would be a highly selective service, this fantasy business of mine, and I'd only accept clients who I felt displayed the utmost sincerity in their desires. Maybe I'd even audition each client by playing with them, just so I'd really be able to tell prospective match-ups all about them. Finding the right person might take a while, but eventually, I'd hook them up with the pervy partner of their dreams.
I'd able to tell all the sweet single submissive men who are looking for a Mistress how to present themselves, how to charm and delight her in that first meeting, what to say, what to do, how to win her. And I'd know how to attract single dominant women to my business, because, after all, I've been one.
But it wouldn't just be Mistresses and male submissives - I'd take all kinds of clients. Dominant or submissive, male or female, whatever. As long as you're kinky and you met my requirements, I'd do my best to find you a partner.
But my requirements would be stringent. For starters, you'd have to be at least somewhat active in the BDSM community, because I think it keep our kink in perspective to be around other perverts on a regular basis. You learn that you are neither the biggest and baddest, nor the smallest and meekest. You learn that everyone starts out not knowing shit, everyone makes mistakes, and everyone's kink evolves and mutates over the years.
I'd probably reserve the right to demand a fashion and grooming makeover, if I felt the situation called for it.
There would be a reading list of BDSM theory, history, and famous fiction, and maybe even a written test on these things.
(It is not lost on me that these three requirements are also things I set out as rules when I take on a personal submissive. I may be a control-queen, but hey, I'm a self-aware control-queen.)
Whatever your preferences might be, you would have to pass a basic competency test in that arena.
And I think registered Republicans would pay double, because finding a partner might lead to them having children, and I feel that there should be some kind of environmental impact fee for that.
There's only one small problem with this appealing fantasy: I'd go bankrupt, because there's no money in this. But it's a lovely idea, and I'd be very, very good at it. I mean, it's quite similar to what I do now: I have a select clientele, I get people to tell me about who they are, and what their desires are, and then, working together, we fulfill those desires.
But I swear I must have been a matchmaker in a former life. Even now, I've got a femme lesbian friend, a top, who's looking for a butch bottom, and I'm going to be helping her with that…And I know two other pretty women who are looking for dominant men, and I think of them when I meet toppy guys sometimes, wondering, Hmmn, would she like him? Maybe I should introduce him to her…
So that's one of my fantasy careers – running a kinky matchmaker service.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
I had a busy day today - one client earlier, and the gym in the evening, but the afternoon in between was devoted to...shopping.
Even though I am a somewhat girly-girl, I don't always like shopping for clothes. I have to be in the mood. And today I was, apparently, because I spent a fair amount of money.
But I got cool things - boots, and a cute jacket, and a bunch of other stuff. There's a big pile o' Nordstrom bags in the bedroom!
So, be sure to go read the newest column, which is a thinly-veiled account of a party I went to over the weekend. See if you can spot one of the blog-comment regulars in the piece...
And also, everyone please go over to Monk's blog and read the really wonderfully sweet piece he's written about his wife. It's their anniversary tomorrow.
Even though I am a somewhat girly-girl, I don't always like shopping for clothes. I have to be in the mood. And today I was, apparently, because I spent a fair amount of money.
But I got cool things - boots, and a cute jacket, and a bunch of other stuff. There's a big pile o' Nordstrom bags in the bedroom!
So, be sure to go read the newest column, which is a thinly-veiled account of a party I went to over the weekend. See if you can spot one of the blog-comment regulars in the piece...
And also, everyone please go over to Monk's blog and read the really wonderfully sweet piece he's written about his wife. It's their anniversary tomorrow.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
The Most Common Mistake
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, is this Mistress Matisse? I wanted to see about making an appointment.
Me: Okay, have I seen you before?
Caller: No, I've never done this. I've seen escorts, though.
Me: Well, that's fine, but what I do is different – you do understand that, right?
Caller: Yeah, yeah, I've looked at your webpage.
Me: What's your first name?
Caller: Mark.
Me: Okay, Mark, why don't you talk to me a little about what you're looking for in a session?
This is the place where a lot of calls go wrong, and this caller seems likely to be one of them. His tone of voice is the tip-off; he's talking in a fast, almost impatient-sounding voice, like he wants to hurry the conversation along. But I will not be rushed when I'm assessing a possible client. You'll stay on the phone with me until I decide you're okay – or not.
Caller: I'm looking for strap-on play.
Uh-oh. This caller has just placed himself directly under the sword of Damocles. I try to steer him to safer territory.
Me: Mark, you did say you'd looked at my website, yes?
Caller: Yeah. I mean, not every page or anything.
Me: Okay, Mark, are there other things you'd be looking for in a session?
Caller: No, just the anal play. You do that, right?
Now, dear readers, let us pause and reflect. Rules, they say, are made to be broken. And who among us has not broken a few? You there, sir, smoking a joint. And you, madam, driving over the speed limit. And you there, with the shifty look about you – just where did you get that Cuban cigar?
So it will not stun any of you to know that, yes, I occasionally break a few rules myself. But the hallmark of the adroit rule-breaker is subtlety and good judgment. I possess both those traits – it's the secret of my success.
This man, on the other hand, has called up a complete stranger and is asking her to do agree to do something illegal. Not subtle, and not good judgment, either. How do you think you'd respond in her situation?
Me: No, I can't do anal penetration for money. That's considered sex, and it's illegal.
Caller: You can't do that?
Me: No, I don't do sex for money.
Caller: But that's not really sex.
Me: Well, the DA's office seems to think that it is. Perhaps you might call them and speak to them about that.
Caller: So you really won't do it?
Me: That is what I've said.
Caller: Do you know anyone who does?
Me: So you're asking me to refer you to someone who does do something illegal? No. If you want to talk about a session that involves something else, we can discuss that.
Caller: No, I just want – oh –
Click.
He hangs up. I'm relieved, because I didn't feel like going around and around in the "but I really really want you to…" loop another three or four times, as I often have to do. Moral of the story: when venturing into foreign lands, learn the customs and speak as the natives do.
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, is this Mistress Matisse? I wanted to see about making an appointment.
Me: Okay, have I seen you before?
Caller: No, I've never done this. I've seen escorts, though.
Me: Well, that's fine, but what I do is different – you do understand that, right?
Caller: Yeah, yeah, I've looked at your webpage.
Me: What's your first name?
Caller: Mark.
Me: Okay, Mark, why don't you talk to me a little about what you're looking for in a session?
This is the place where a lot of calls go wrong, and this caller seems likely to be one of them. His tone of voice is the tip-off; he's talking in a fast, almost impatient-sounding voice, like he wants to hurry the conversation along. But I will not be rushed when I'm assessing a possible client. You'll stay on the phone with me until I decide you're okay – or not.
Caller: I'm looking for strap-on play.
Uh-oh. This caller has just placed himself directly under the sword of Damocles. I try to steer him to safer territory.
Me: Mark, you did say you'd looked at my website, yes?
Caller: Yeah. I mean, not every page or anything.
Me: Okay, Mark, are there other things you'd be looking for in a session?
Caller: No, just the anal play. You do that, right?
Now, dear readers, let us pause and reflect. Rules, they say, are made to be broken. And who among us has not broken a few? You there, sir, smoking a joint. And you, madam, driving over the speed limit. And you there, with the shifty look about you – just where did you get that Cuban cigar?
So it will not stun any of you to know that, yes, I occasionally break a few rules myself. But the hallmark of the adroit rule-breaker is subtlety and good judgment. I possess both those traits – it's the secret of my success.
This man, on the other hand, has called up a complete stranger and is asking her to do agree to do something illegal. Not subtle, and not good judgment, either. How do you think you'd respond in her situation?
Me: No, I can't do anal penetration for money. That's considered sex, and it's illegal.
Caller: You can't do that?
Me: No, I don't do sex for money.
Caller: But that's not really sex.
Me: Well, the DA's office seems to think that it is. Perhaps you might call them and speak to them about that.
Caller: So you really won't do it?
Me: That is what I've said.
Caller: Do you know anyone who does?
Me: So you're asking me to refer you to someone who does do something illegal? No. If you want to talk about a session that involves something else, we can discuss that.
Caller: No, I just want – oh –
Click.
He hangs up. I'm relieved, because I didn't feel like going around and around in the "but I really really want you to…" loop another three or four times, as I often have to do. Moral of the story: when venturing into foreign lands, learn the customs and speak as the natives do.
From The Mailbag:
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I've been reading your blog. It's okay, but you need to tell more stories about your clients and about sex. Why don't you tell more juicy details?
Because unlike some ladies who blog about their sex work careers, I am not anonymous. I use my working-professional name, and I show my face. So I'm an identifiable person – as I've mentioned in other posts, it's getting to the point where strangers recognize me in public – and thus I have to live with the real-time repercussions of everything I say. Discretion and diplomacy are called for.
I'm looking for a mistress to play with. I'm not really into what you're into? I'm into forced feminization. I live in the seattle area. Do you know of a mistress in the seattle area that's into this?
Well, yes, I probably do, although I don't always inquire closely into other people's fetish tastes unless I'm planning on playing with them myself. But I'm not running a dating service, sorry.
my mistress Mataisse
i spend very long time with yr home page i find it very very nice ad u r very very buety i like to be yr servant ad kiss ad lick yr nice feet
yr feet servant…
Always nice to know those for whom English is (sort of) a second language are liking me…Gotta teach them about that F7 thing, though…
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I've been reading your blog. It's okay, but you need to tell more stories about your clients and about sex. Why don't you tell more juicy details?
Because unlike some ladies who blog about their sex work careers, I am not anonymous. I use my working-professional name, and I show my face. So I'm an identifiable person – as I've mentioned in other posts, it's getting to the point where strangers recognize me in public – and thus I have to live with the real-time repercussions of everything I say. Discretion and diplomacy are called for.
I'm looking for a mistress to play with. I'm not really into what you're into? I'm into forced feminization. I live in the seattle area. Do you know of a mistress in the seattle area that's into this?
Well, yes, I probably do, although I don't always inquire closely into other people's fetish tastes unless I'm planning on playing with them myself. But I'm not running a dating service, sorry.
my mistress Mataisse
i spend very long time with yr home page i find it very very nice ad u r very very buety i like to be yr servant ad kiss ad lick yr nice feet
yr feet servant…
Always nice to know those for whom English is (sort of) a second language are liking me…Gotta teach them about that F7 thing, though…
Monday, August 23, 2004
As The Hit Counter Turns...
Spins around wildly, more like...That's how you know you've been mentioned on Belle's blog. So I'll have to look in my "blog topics" file and pull out a appropriately ridiculous phone call to tell you about later today...
Spins around wildly, more like...That's how you know you've been mentioned on Belle's blog. So I'll have to look in my "blog topics" file and pull out a appropriately ridiculous phone call to tell you about later today...
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Wormwood Thoughts
It's been a busy weekend for me, but after brunch at the B&O today I was flipping through - yes, I admit it - the Seattle Weakly, and reading their piece about drinking absinthe.
Now, I very rarely drink alcohol - meaning, about three or four times a year. (Although Roman showing up for dates with champagne upped that average a bit lately...) It's not because of any moral position, I just don't care that much for it. And I also have a pretty low physical tolerance for alcohol, so even one or two drinks affect me rather strongly. A very drunk girl, giggling and singing, can be amusing enough in, say, one's first year or two at college. After that, it very swiftly becomes much less cute, in my opinion. One wants to limit that kind of behavior to a private setting, with one's very dearest friends, about once every five years or so.
And I associate absinthe with a lot of fin-de-sicle ex-pats living in Paris, and I did have the vague idea that it was poisonous. But this line describing the (supposed) effects of absinthe struck a bit of a chord with me..."the dragging murkiness you get from beer or vodka is replaced by a sensual alertness that’s generally foreign to heavy alcohol consumption."
Well, that sounds somewhat appealing, since that dragging murky feeling is one of the other reasons I generally do not drink. Hmmn, I may have to try some of that stuff, just for the hell of it.
Oh, and nothing to do with absinthe, but a sweet intoxicant just the same - some very lovely thoughts about talking dirty...
It's been a busy weekend for me, but after brunch at the B&O today I was flipping through - yes, I admit it - the Seattle Weakly, and reading their piece about drinking absinthe.
Now, I very rarely drink alcohol - meaning, about three or four times a year. (Although Roman showing up for dates with champagne upped that average a bit lately...) It's not because of any moral position, I just don't care that much for it. And I also have a pretty low physical tolerance for alcohol, so even one or two drinks affect me rather strongly. A very drunk girl, giggling and singing, can be amusing enough in, say, one's first year or two at college. After that, it very swiftly becomes much less cute, in my opinion. One wants to limit that kind of behavior to a private setting, with one's very dearest friends, about once every five years or so.
And I associate absinthe with a lot of fin-de-sicle ex-pats living in Paris, and I did have the vague idea that it was poisonous. But this line describing the (supposed) effects of absinthe struck a bit of a chord with me..."the dragging murkiness you get from beer or vodka is replaced by a sensual alertness that’s generally foreign to heavy alcohol consumption."
Well, that sounds somewhat appealing, since that dragging murky feeling is one of the other reasons I generally do not drink. Hmmn, I may have to try some of that stuff, just for the hell of it.
Oh, and nothing to do with absinthe, but a sweet intoxicant just the same - some very lovely thoughts about talking dirty...
Saturday, August 21, 2004
Books and Love
I love having partners who give me books to read. How cool is that, for a pervy bibliophile such as I?
When I had my date with Roman this week, he loaned me a copy of Ayn Rand's book Anthem. And Jake has loaned/given me three books; Dreamland, by Kevin Baker, which is a novel set in early twentieth century New York. A Member of the Wedding, by Carson McCullers, which I think I read in a lit class once, but which I'm looking forward to reading again, and a book about writing called Style: Ten Lessons in Clarity and Grace, by Joseph M. Williams.
Max and I went through a book-swapping period early in our courtship, too. Right now he doesn't have time to read as much as I do, although I will say that he's gotten through more of Bill Clinton's autobiography than I have. And we've both been reading a very informative book called Beat the Heat: How to Handle Encounters with Law Enforcement by Katya Komisaruk. Not that we're planning on doing anything illegal, you understand. But education is never a wasted thing.
More details on life, love and clothespins later on…But right now I have social events to prepare for…
I love having partners who give me books to read. How cool is that, for a pervy bibliophile such as I?
When I had my date with Roman this week, he loaned me a copy of Ayn Rand's book Anthem. And Jake has loaned/given me three books; Dreamland, by Kevin Baker, which is a novel set in early twentieth century New York. A Member of the Wedding, by Carson McCullers, which I think I read in a lit class once, but which I'm looking forward to reading again, and a book about writing called Style: Ten Lessons in Clarity and Grace, by Joseph M. Williams.
Max and I went through a book-swapping period early in our courtship, too. Right now he doesn't have time to read as much as I do, although I will say that he's gotten through more of Bill Clinton's autobiography than I have. And we've both been reading a very informative book called Beat the Heat: How to Handle Encounters with Law Enforcement by Katya Komisaruk. Not that we're planning on doing anything illegal, you understand. But education is never a wasted thing.
More details on life, love and clothespins later on…But right now I have social events to prepare for…
Friday, August 20, 2004
Late night last night, busy day today....Here are a few links to entertain you until I have time to write more...
My newest column is up, so I invite you to go read that...
A Large Leather Lexicon for a Little List of Terms
I am such a word-whore, and this page has some good definitions and some cool things to say about the use and misuse of BDSM terminology. A quick scan of the rest of the site revealed some well-expressed ideas on other pages as well...
An interesting article about (supposedly)British female sex tourists in Thailand.
Tune in later for stories about my date with Roman, and Max's encounters at a strip club. Very amusing...
My newest column is up, so I invite you to go read that...
A Large Leather Lexicon for a Little List of Terms
I am such a word-whore, and this page has some good definitions and some cool things to say about the use and misuse of BDSM terminology. A quick scan of the rest of the site revealed some well-expressed ideas on other pages as well...
An interesting article about (supposedly)British female sex tourists in Thailand.
Tune in later for stories about my date with Roman, and Max's encounters at a strip club. Very amusing...
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Yesterday Van left this note in the comments below…
When Max first began seeing Maura, he and I had a not-very-well-explored-expectation that she and I would be around each other a fair amount socially. "Socially" is a broad term here, it encompasses everything from having her accompany Max and I to parties, to me bumping into her at breakfast after her date with Max.
I also agreed that I would be willing to sleep in the same bed with her – Max likes to keep his dates overnight – although there would definitely be no three-way sex. (And no two-way sex, either. Sleep means sleep.) Our bed is quite large, and I felt reasonably okay about that for while.
But after about a year and half, I felt like some of the lines around this relationship were getting blurred, and I decided that a) I didn't want to sleep with anyone I myself wasn't having an intimate relationship with, and b) I needed Max's relationship with Maura to be more separate from me. Maura is a nice person. But you know, she's not my partner.
So that's where thing stand now. I do see Maura on some group social occasions, but it's not unusual for a month or three to go by without my seeing her at all. So I'm guessing you'd call that a "separately maintained duo relationship".
While this was happening, I was seeing Mike, and while Mike did come to some parties at our house, he was fairly outside our (mine and Max's) social circle, so while Max liked what he knew of Mike, they didn't encounter each other much. So you could score that as another SMDR. (Hey, I like that acronym!)
Fast forward a few months. Exit Mike, enter Jake and Roman. Max knew Roman before he was my partner – in fact, I would say that Max was instrumental in my getting to know Roman well enough to say, "I want that guy."
Since then, Max and I have spent some time around Roman socially, usually with his wife present as well. Group situations so far, although I think Roman's wife seems very cool - I'd like to hang out with her some more. (All in good time, I'm sure.) We have a lot of the same friends and acquaintances, and we go to many of the same fetish events, and I could see the four of us doing some social stuff together. Still, it seems like a mostly-separate relationship.
Given how I met Jake, it's going take a little longer to sort of blend him into my social life. He does know some people I know, though, so I'm thinking that will happen gradually, as will any connection that happens between he and Max. They've met several times, of course, but so far, my relationship with him been rather SMDRish.
The thing that's going to make any Max/Matisse/Jake social occasion slightly trickier is that while Jake is dating different people, he doesn't have a primary partner. Roman being married - well, I understand how to behave in that situation. When I see Roman with his wife, he's her date, not mine, and his focus is on her. That means hands-off for me, except for normal social hugging and such. Naturally there's that little zing between us, but we're low-key and friendly, rather than all intense and sexual. And I'm fine with that arrangement; it seems completely reasonable and natural to me. It's certainly what I'd expect from any secondary partner of Max's.
But let's say I invite Jake to, just for example, a dinner party at our house. So he's there stag, and I'm there, and Max is there. Wow. For me, that sounds like an exercise in very carefully portioning my focus - especially if Jake doesn't know many of the other people present very well. Not that he'd expect me to pay an inappropriate level of attention to him, but still...
It's not un-doable. Max has been in precisely that situation with me and Maura on any number of occasions, and we (usually) sailed through it unscathed. But it requires some delicate handling, and it assumes everyone involved will give everyone else the generous benefit of the doubt.
So I can imagine doing something like that – but what I cannot imagine is sleeping in the same bed with Max and either Roman or Jake. Max, fair-minded guy that he is, has expressed his willingness to at least try that sometime. (With the same no-sex rules.) But I couldn't...It's just…Oh, it's simply not in the realm of things that seem possible. I'd either giggle nervously all night or just lie there in a state of this-should-be-fun-but-wow-it’s-weird.
The mildly flustered tone you're hearing in my voice is all about me, you understand. Max is such a friendly person, he's quite disposed to like people if they give him half a chance. (I would be the snooty one in this relationship.) So I think I'd like it if Max had independent friendships with either one of them, although a corner of my soul quails at the idea of them talking about me when I'm not there. Surely that couldn't be good.
Postscript: I confess it hadn't really occurred to me to foster any kind of acquaintance between Roman and Jake, although Roman has expressed some mild curiosity about his opposite number. Huh, an interesting thought. I have no idea what they'd make of each other. But I can't imagine sleeping in the same bed with the two of them, either.
"Roman is a lucky guy. As is Jake, as is Max.An excellent question, Van, and the kind of thing every poly couple has to figure out. Let me start off by talking a little about Max and his secondary partner, Maura. They've been involved for nearly three years, so there's a bit more history there to use as an example.
Just out of curiosity, how much interaction do you tend to have or foster among you and your three partners? I know they're all aware of each other, but do you sometimes socialize together (three or more of you—and please understand, I'm not talking about sexually), or is it kind of like three separately maintained duo relationships? I'm especially fascinated by the poly aspect of your lifestyle, even more than by the pro domme and general BDSM aspects."
When Max first began seeing Maura, he and I had a not-very-well-explored-expectation that she and I would be around each other a fair amount socially. "Socially" is a broad term here, it encompasses everything from having her accompany Max and I to parties, to me bumping into her at breakfast after her date with Max.
I also agreed that I would be willing to sleep in the same bed with her – Max likes to keep his dates overnight – although there would definitely be no three-way sex. (And no two-way sex, either. Sleep means sleep.) Our bed is quite large, and I felt reasonably okay about that for while.
But after about a year and half, I felt like some of the lines around this relationship were getting blurred, and I decided that a) I didn't want to sleep with anyone I myself wasn't having an intimate relationship with, and b) I needed Max's relationship with Maura to be more separate from me. Maura is a nice person. But you know, she's not my partner.
So that's where thing stand now. I do see Maura on some group social occasions, but it's not unusual for a month or three to go by without my seeing her at all. So I'm guessing you'd call that a "separately maintained duo relationship".
While this was happening, I was seeing Mike, and while Mike did come to some parties at our house, he was fairly outside our (mine and Max's) social circle, so while Max liked what he knew of Mike, they didn't encounter each other much. So you could score that as another SMDR. (Hey, I like that acronym!)
Fast forward a few months. Exit Mike, enter Jake and Roman. Max knew Roman before he was my partner – in fact, I would say that Max was instrumental in my getting to know Roman well enough to say, "I want that guy."
Since then, Max and I have spent some time around Roman socially, usually with his wife present as well. Group situations so far, although I think Roman's wife seems very cool - I'd like to hang out with her some more. (All in good time, I'm sure.) We have a lot of the same friends and acquaintances, and we go to many of the same fetish events, and I could see the four of us doing some social stuff together. Still, it seems like a mostly-separate relationship.
Given how I met Jake, it's going take a little longer to sort of blend him into my social life. He does know some people I know, though, so I'm thinking that will happen gradually, as will any connection that happens between he and Max. They've met several times, of course, but so far, my relationship with him been rather SMDRish.
The thing that's going to make any Max/Matisse/Jake social occasion slightly trickier is that while Jake is dating different people, he doesn't have a primary partner. Roman being married - well, I understand how to behave in that situation. When I see Roman with his wife, he's her date, not mine, and his focus is on her. That means hands-off for me, except for normal social hugging and such. Naturally there's that little zing between us, but we're low-key and friendly, rather than all intense and sexual. And I'm fine with that arrangement; it seems completely reasonable and natural to me. It's certainly what I'd expect from any secondary partner of Max's.
But let's say I invite Jake to, just for example, a dinner party at our house. So he's there stag, and I'm there, and Max is there. Wow. For me, that sounds like an exercise in very carefully portioning my focus - especially if Jake doesn't know many of the other people present very well. Not that he'd expect me to pay an inappropriate level of attention to him, but still...
It's not un-doable. Max has been in precisely that situation with me and Maura on any number of occasions, and we (usually) sailed through it unscathed. But it requires some delicate handling, and it assumes everyone involved will give everyone else the generous benefit of the doubt.
So I can imagine doing something like that – but what I cannot imagine is sleeping in the same bed with Max and either Roman or Jake. Max, fair-minded guy that he is, has expressed his willingness to at least try that sometime. (With the same no-sex rules.) But I couldn't...It's just…Oh, it's simply not in the realm of things that seem possible. I'd either giggle nervously all night or just lie there in a state of this-should-be-fun-but-wow-it’s-weird.
The mildly flustered tone you're hearing in my voice is all about me, you understand. Max is such a friendly person, he's quite disposed to like people if they give him half a chance. (I would be the snooty one in this relationship.) So I think I'd like it if Max had independent friendships with either one of them, although a corner of my soul quails at the idea of them talking about me when I'm not there. Surely that couldn't be good.
Postscript: I confess it hadn't really occurred to me to foster any kind of acquaintance between Roman and Jake, although Roman has expressed some mild curiosity about his opposite number. Huh, an interesting thought. I have no idea what they'd make of each other. But I can't imagine sleeping in the same bed with the two of them, either.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
When in Rome…
Looking back over the entries for the last month or so, I see that I haven't written so much about Roman. I have a date with him this week, so he's on my mind right now…
I'm one of those women who, if you want to get me naked, you first must make me laugh. All three of my partners have different brands of humor, but in each case, laughing with them was something that made me feel, in an early moment, intimately connected with them. And it made me want to move forward and be more intimate with them. Roman started making me laugh the first time I met him, and his rapid-fire humor sometimes causes me laugh so hard that I have to lie down on some flat surface and recover slowly. (Come to think of it, that might be how we began some of our early sexual encounters.)
Now, it's not a one-way street: I make Roman laugh, too. He laughs that Oh-this-is-going-to-be-fun laugh when he's about to do something particularly wicked to me. And he laughs that Oh-shit-I'm-in-trouble-but-it's-turning-me-on laugh when I'm about to do something deliciously devious to him. I do like the balance in our relationship.
I'm sure you have surmised that we’re pretty irreverent about our kink - certainly neither of us is looking for any kind of formal dominant/submissive roleplay from each other. Roman has referred to what we do as "playing naked rugby", and I like that phrase.
But while we're informal in our BDSM, he's sweetly romantic with me, bringing me flowers and champagne and feeding me decadent little chocolates. It's funny – I'm not really the romantic type of girl, and frequently such gestures make me view someone askance, wondering what's with the big snow job. But Roman clearly has a generous soul, and the pleasure that he seems to take in pampering me with such indulgences make me feel comfortable accepting from him what might make me uneasy from another person. I suppose it means I trust him.
Looking back over the entries for the last month or so, I see that I haven't written so much about Roman. I have a date with him this week, so he's on my mind right now…
I'm one of those women who, if you want to get me naked, you first must make me laugh. All three of my partners have different brands of humor, but in each case, laughing with them was something that made me feel, in an early moment, intimately connected with them. And it made me want to move forward and be more intimate with them. Roman started making me laugh the first time I met him, and his rapid-fire humor sometimes causes me laugh so hard that I have to lie down on some flat surface and recover slowly. (Come to think of it, that might be how we began some of our early sexual encounters.)
Now, it's not a one-way street: I make Roman laugh, too. He laughs that Oh-this-is-going-to-be-fun laugh when he's about to do something particularly wicked to me. And he laughs that Oh-shit-I'm-in-trouble-but-it's-turning-me-on laugh when I'm about to do something deliciously devious to him. I do like the balance in our relationship.
I'm sure you have surmised that we’re pretty irreverent about our kink - certainly neither of us is looking for any kind of formal dominant/submissive roleplay from each other. Roman has referred to what we do as "playing naked rugby", and I like that phrase.
But while we're informal in our BDSM, he's sweetly romantic with me, bringing me flowers and champagne and feeding me decadent little chocolates. It's funny – I'm not really the romantic type of girl, and frequently such gestures make me view someone askance, wondering what's with the big snow job. But Roman clearly has a generous soul, and the pleasure that he seems to take in pampering me with such indulgences make me feel comfortable accepting from him what might make me uneasy from another person. I suppose it means I trust him.
Monday, August 16, 2004
A few random observations…
"…Permanent makeup, for women who want the most natural appearance possible…." This, alongside a picture of a woman who looks like she just sat on an electrified porcupine? Not a good marriage of text and photo. Not at all.
(Link snagged from Everything Burns)
"No" always means "no". But four out of five bratty submissives agree that "you can't make me" always means "make me". Especially in bed.
I think some of these techniques are a little out of date - but not all of them, and it's still interesting reading, from someone who's definitely been there: Top 10 Signs You Are Being Set Up By An Undercover Cop, by Norma Jean Almodovar
Now I have to go decide on a column topic. And then I have to write the damn thing….
"…Permanent makeup, for women who want the most natural appearance possible…." This, alongside a picture of a woman who looks like she just sat on an electrified porcupine? Not a good marriage of text and photo. Not at all.
(Link snagged from Everything Burns)
"No" always means "no". But four out of five bratty submissives agree that "you can't make me" always means "make me". Especially in bed.
I think some of these techniques are a little out of date - but not all of them, and it's still interesting reading, from someone who's definitely been there: Top 10 Signs You Are Being Set Up By An Undercover Cop, by Norma Jean Almodovar
Now I have to go decide on a column topic. And then I have to write the damn thing….
Saturday, August 14, 2004
I want to spin off a remark made by the ever-observant Remittance Girl. In the context of talking about how difficult it is to maintain a 24-7, live-together, high protocol D/s relationship, she said: "The times I have had a Dom take out their mood on me in play, they have felt horribly guilty about it afterwards."
Well, yes, I can see why they might, if they were doing it from a not-very-self-aware place.
But blowing off steam through your BDSM play doesn't have to be a negative thing. However, it does require the clear awareness that, 'hey, I had a pissy day today, and I just want to beat someone's ass'. And it requires that you communicate this mood and this desire to your (potential) partner, so that they can say yea or nay.
Lots of masochists, of course, will selflessly volunteer their butts (or whatever) for such a thing. I have guys who specifically ask to see me when I'm PMS, just so I'll be in the nastiest possible mood. They enjoy the idea of me venting my pent-up tension on them.
But even a submissive person can usually find a place for themselves in this scene, if you frame it as them serving your need for emotional release, and keep reinforcing that motivation throughout the scene.
I can imagine creating a whole fantasy role-play scene around it. One could have one's partner play the annoying person du jour, and then you could fulfill those inappropriate, non-consensual fantasies about smacking around your co-worker/neighbor/friend/whatever.
That's what I think is so cool about kink. If you can figure out how you're feeling and what you want, and then communicate it honestly and openly to your partner, almost any mood or motivation can be okay. Clearly, not every fantasy can be realized. But if you exercise some creativity around it, you can do a lot.
Well, yes, I can see why they might, if they were doing it from a not-very-self-aware place.
But blowing off steam through your BDSM play doesn't have to be a negative thing. However, it does require the clear awareness that, 'hey, I had a pissy day today, and I just want to beat someone's ass'. And it requires that you communicate this mood and this desire to your (potential) partner, so that they can say yea or nay.
Lots of masochists, of course, will selflessly volunteer their butts (or whatever) for such a thing. I have guys who specifically ask to see me when I'm PMS, just so I'll be in the nastiest possible mood. They enjoy the idea of me venting my pent-up tension on them.
But even a submissive person can usually find a place for themselves in this scene, if you frame it as them serving your need for emotional release, and keep reinforcing that motivation throughout the scene.
I can imagine creating a whole fantasy role-play scene around it. One could have one's partner play the annoying person du jour, and then you could fulfill those inappropriate, non-consensual fantasies about smacking around your co-worker/neighbor/friend/whatever.
That's what I think is so cool about kink. If you can figure out how you're feeling and what you want, and then communicate it honestly and openly to your partner, almost any mood or motivation can be okay. Clearly, not every fantasy can be realized. But if you exercise some creativity around it, you can do a lot.
Friday, August 13, 2004
I had a rather late night with Jake last night, so I don't think I'll be writing anything scintillating today. But you can go read my latest column, which is here...
Note: there's something odd with the formatting on the page, so I'll be dropping a note to the webmaster of the site about that. The other odd thing is that they keep changing the link to the "current column" page, which is annoying. So hopefully I'll get straight with them about that, too...
Now I think a nap may be in order...
Note: there's something odd with the formatting on the page, so I'll be dropping a note to the webmaster of the site about that. The other odd thing is that they keep changing the link to the "current column" page, which is annoying. So hopefully I'll get straight with them about that, too...
Now I think a nap may be in order...
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Peer Counseling
When you've been doing something a long time, you forget, sometimes, how it felt when it was all new and you had to learn each piece of it step by step. But when you see others doing it, it makes you appreciate how far you've traveled. And it's nice to be able to help people just a little, even someone like this caller, who is a woman I don't know particularly well…
Ring ring!
Caller: Hi, Matisse, this is Chloe. (Not the name she actually goes by.) Can I talk to you? I kinda wanted to get your opinion about something.
Me: Sure, honey, what's up?
Chloe: So I have this client, and he's a nice guy. He's been seeing me pretty regularly for about six or seven months. But he said something to me that made me really uncomfortable and I don't know what to do about it.
Me: Okay, tell me what he said.
Chloe: Well, see, we had a session and I told him, just conversationally, that my boyfriend was going to be out of town for a week, and he didn't say anything then. But later on he called me up and left me a voicemail saying he wanted to make another appointment to see me – but he wanted to come see me at my house. He said since my boyfriend was going to be out of town…that we could do that. He said he wanted to have sex with me in my own bed, that it was a fantasy for him to be in my apartment.
Me: You usually do outcall, right?
Chloe: Yeah, and it's totally weirding me out to think about having a client come to my house. That's just not what I do. I mean, I don't think he'd, like, stalk me or anything, it's not that. It's just… (she pauses, groping for a word)
Me: It's just a boundary.
Chloe: Yeah! Yeah, it's a boundary. And the way he was talking about was so not cool – it was like, he just assumed I'd let him come there, so he wasn't really even asking me, he was telling me, 'I want to come over to your place'. Plus the fact that he also just assumes I'd be willing to lie to my boyfriend about it, too.
Me: Well, if you're asking me what I think, I think you should just call him back and say that you prefer to see him in the way you've been doing.
Chloe: Yeah?
Me: And I think some of what you're feeling is being uncomfortable with the idea of saying no to him. But it probably won't be that big of a deal, unless you make it one. Just say 'no thanks, I don't want to do that', and that's the end of it. If he tries to push it, then you'll have to get more firm with him. But I'm guessing he has absolutely no idea he's run into a boundary with you, and you just say you don't want to do it, he'll accept that.
Chloe: You think?
Me: Yeah, I do. Sure, it would have been nice if he had been able to intuit that the reason you weren't inviting him to your place was because that wasn't something you wanted to do. But it's okay to tell him no.
Chloe: I just hate having to say no to people. I always think they're going to be mad.
Me: Oh, honey, you need to be able to do that. That's important.
Chloe: I know.
Me: Well, I tell you – this job is a crash-course in assertiveness-training. You'll get lots of practice saying "no, thank you, I don't want to do that".
Chloe: Yeah?
Me: Yeah. Or else you'll burn out in six months.
Chloe: No, thank you, I don't want to do that.
We both laugh.
When you've been doing something a long time, you forget, sometimes, how it felt when it was all new and you had to learn each piece of it step by step. But when you see others doing it, it makes you appreciate how far you've traveled. And it's nice to be able to help people just a little, even someone like this caller, who is a woman I don't know particularly well…
Ring ring!
Caller: Hi, Matisse, this is Chloe. (Not the name she actually goes by.) Can I talk to you? I kinda wanted to get your opinion about something.
Me: Sure, honey, what's up?
Chloe: So I have this client, and he's a nice guy. He's been seeing me pretty regularly for about six or seven months. But he said something to me that made me really uncomfortable and I don't know what to do about it.
Me: Okay, tell me what he said.
Chloe: Well, see, we had a session and I told him, just conversationally, that my boyfriend was going to be out of town for a week, and he didn't say anything then. But later on he called me up and left me a voicemail saying he wanted to make another appointment to see me – but he wanted to come see me at my house. He said since my boyfriend was going to be out of town…that we could do that. He said he wanted to have sex with me in my own bed, that it was a fantasy for him to be in my apartment.
Me: You usually do outcall, right?
Chloe: Yeah, and it's totally weirding me out to think about having a client come to my house. That's just not what I do. I mean, I don't think he'd, like, stalk me or anything, it's not that. It's just… (she pauses, groping for a word)
Me: It's just a boundary.
Chloe: Yeah! Yeah, it's a boundary. And the way he was talking about was so not cool – it was like, he just assumed I'd let him come there, so he wasn't really even asking me, he was telling me, 'I want to come over to your place'. Plus the fact that he also just assumes I'd be willing to lie to my boyfriend about it, too.
Me: Well, if you're asking me what I think, I think you should just call him back and say that you prefer to see him in the way you've been doing.
Chloe: Yeah?
Me: And I think some of what you're feeling is being uncomfortable with the idea of saying no to him. But it probably won't be that big of a deal, unless you make it one. Just say 'no thanks, I don't want to do that', and that's the end of it. If he tries to push it, then you'll have to get more firm with him. But I'm guessing he has absolutely no idea he's run into a boundary with you, and you just say you don't want to do it, he'll accept that.
Chloe: You think?
Me: Yeah, I do. Sure, it would have been nice if he had been able to intuit that the reason you weren't inviting him to your place was because that wasn't something you wanted to do. But it's okay to tell him no.
Chloe: I just hate having to say no to people. I always think they're going to be mad.
Me: Oh, honey, you need to be able to do that. That's important.
Chloe: I know.
Me: Well, I tell you – this job is a crash-course in assertiveness-training. You'll get lots of practice saying "no, thank you, I don't want to do that".
Chloe: Yeah?
Me: Yeah. Or else you'll burn out in six months.
Chloe: No, thank you, I don't want to do that.
We both laugh.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Update: the photo-theft situation has been dealt with...Thanks so much to everyone who went out of their way to be supportive and offer suggestions. And thanks also to the webmaster Paul O'Regan, who - once we got in touch with him - responded quickly and appropriately to the matter.
Trouble is, I'm not really sure who deserves the prize. Ms. Jane Duvall was actually the person who gave me the webmaster's email, but many of you were extra-helpful in other ways - Monk, 00Goddess, Neko, Jackie, Sunny and the other folks who emailed me and left comments both here and on the offender's blog. Monk is a local, so I can deal with him personally (heh heh heh), but I'm guessing the rest of ya'll are too far away to collect a reward in person. So if you'd like the URL for my fine art nudes gallery, drop me a note and I'll give it to you. Or you can just walking around in the world, knowing I think you're way-cool.
Trouble is, I'm not really sure who deserves the prize. Ms. Jane Duvall was actually the person who gave me the webmaster's email, but many of you were extra-helpful in other ways - Monk, 00Goddess, Neko, Jackie, Sunny and the other folks who emailed me and left comments both here and on the offender's blog. Monk is a local, so I can deal with him personally (heh heh heh), but I'm guessing the rest of ya'll are too far away to collect a reward in person. So if you'd like the URL for my fine art nudes gallery, drop me a note and I'll give it to you. Or you can just walking around in the world, knowing I think you're way-cool.
News Roundup
Okay, it's official. My Mother Has Left The Building. It was a good visit, and all good things must come to an end. Thank God.
Max and I still do have other houseguests for a few more days, but they're much lower-impact ones.
A Reminder: There are two links on the right: one is a text link that says: "Cunning Linguists Journals" and one is a black box that says "Clix" on it. They are Top List links, and if you click on them, my site moves higher up the list…Hint, hint.
Here's a challenge: Smart girl Jane Duvall sent me a note telling me that some rude twit stole a picture of me - one of my self-portrait series - and is using it to decorate their blog. I really hate image thieves – especially when it's a picture of me! Here's the page where the image is placed – it's the second photo from the top, a b/w shot of a kneeling woman…
A quick lesson in copyright law: this is illegal - not to mention morally reprehensible. To add insult to injury, she's thrown some kind of filter on it to make it appear blurry, and the size ratio is skewed, too - it's too wide.
I left an irate comment on the blog, but it's obvious the blog owner doesn't come around all that much - and I'm damned if I can find an email link for her on the page anywhere. Even more annoying, I can't even get to an email address for the webmaster to complain to them. At least, not without registering with the site, which I don't particularly want to do.
So, I will give a big wet kiss OR a smack on the ass OR an even nicer (digital) image of my nekkid self to any web guru who can track down a working email for either the blogger OR the webmaster of TheSuburbs.com. (Whose idea was that name, anyhow? Un-sexy.) Let your personal predilections and/or your geographical limitations be your guide. Caveat: the email you come up with must work - meaning: someone replies to it - in order for you to collect the reward. Good luck.
Okay, it's official. My Mother Has Left The Building. It was a good visit, and all good things must come to an end. Thank God.
Max and I still do have other houseguests for a few more days, but they're much lower-impact ones.
A Reminder: There are two links on the right: one is a text link that says: "Cunning Linguists Journals" and one is a black box that says "Clix" on it. They are Top List links, and if you click on them, my site moves higher up the list…Hint, hint.
Here's a challenge: Smart girl Jane Duvall sent me a note telling me that some rude twit stole a picture of me - one of my self-portrait series - and is using it to decorate their blog. I really hate image thieves – especially when it's a picture of me! Here's the page where the image is placed – it's the second photo from the top, a b/w shot of a kneeling woman…
A quick lesson in copyright law: this is illegal - not to mention morally reprehensible. To add insult to injury, she's thrown some kind of filter on it to make it appear blurry, and the size ratio is skewed, too - it's too wide.
I left an irate comment on the blog, but it's obvious the blog owner doesn't come around all that much - and I'm damned if I can find an email link for her on the page anywhere. Even more annoying, I can't even get to an email address for the webmaster to complain to them. At least, not without registering with the site, which I don't particularly want to do.
So, I will give a big wet kiss OR a smack on the ass OR an even nicer (digital) image of my nekkid self to any web guru who can track down a working email for either the blogger OR the webmaster of TheSuburbs.com. (Whose idea was that name, anyhow? Un-sexy.) Let your personal predilections and/or your geographical limitations be your guide. Caveat: the email you come up with must work - meaning: someone replies to it - in order for you to collect the reward. Good luck.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
I'm too insanely-busy to write much…So I'll just present you with yet another Stupid Phone Call.
Ring ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Hi, is this MAL-tiss-EE? I saw your ad in The Stranger.
I'm already stressed and edgy today, and this beginning doesn't dispose me kindly to the guy. How people can mangle my name so badly is really beyond me. It's one thing to mispronounce it, but adding in letters that aren't even there? Jesus. It's in 18-point type, for god's sake. And I know he can see - he got the phone number right, didn't he?
Me: My name is Mah-teece.
Caller: Oh, I was calling for Mal-tiss-ee, is she there?
Good Christ. I seriously toy with saying, "Yeah, hold on a minute" and just putting the phone down and leaving it.
Me: No, you're saying my name wrong. It's Mah-teece.
Caller: Oh! Oh, well…So, that's you in the picture, huh? You're really pretty.
The picture is about one and one-fourth inches long and three-fourths of an inch high, and while it is me, the fact is that it's so small that it could, actually, be Adam Sandler in drag, or a computer-generated avatar, or one of the Bush twins. So complimenting it is not an effective way to flatter me. Strike two, buddy.
Me: What is it that you're calling about?
Caller: Oh, I, uh, had a question.
Me: Okay. What is it?
Caller: Do you ever, like, uh, just go out on dates?
Now, I seriously doubt that this guy's just conducting a survey for the American Dating Council. But he doesn't even have the balls to ask me straightforwardly, and his use of oblique approach has set him up for the classic reply: "Yes. But not with you!"
Or I could say, "Why, yes I do, handsome! Why don't you meet me in the men's bathroom at Volunteer Park tonight about ten? Get in one of the stalls, take off all your clothes and wait for me!" …And then just let whatever adventures that might befall him unfold. Charming thought. It's the kind of object lesson that might give him a tiny glimmering of how excruciatingly asinine it is to call up random sex workers and ask them to date you.
But no - it's not really fair to the gentlemen who are there with sincere intentions. So instead I say...
Me: Why are you asking me this?
Caller: Oh, I don't know, I was just bored.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, has got to be the worst answer I have ever heard to such a question. I realize I am helpless in the face of such penetratingly gauche cluelessness, and thus, I do the only thing I can do.
Click. I hang up.
Ring ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Hi, is this MAL-tiss-EE? I saw your ad in The Stranger.
I'm already stressed and edgy today, and this beginning doesn't dispose me kindly to the guy. How people can mangle my name so badly is really beyond me. It's one thing to mispronounce it, but adding in letters that aren't even there? Jesus. It's in 18-point type, for god's sake. And I know he can see - he got the phone number right, didn't he?
Me: My name is Mah-teece.
Caller: Oh, I was calling for Mal-tiss-ee, is she there?
Good Christ. I seriously toy with saying, "Yeah, hold on a minute" and just putting the phone down and leaving it.
Me: No, you're saying my name wrong. It's Mah-teece.
Caller: Oh! Oh, well…So, that's you in the picture, huh? You're really pretty.
The picture is about one and one-fourth inches long and three-fourths of an inch high, and while it is me, the fact is that it's so small that it could, actually, be Adam Sandler in drag, or a computer-generated avatar, or one of the Bush twins. So complimenting it is not an effective way to flatter me. Strike two, buddy.
Me: What is it that you're calling about?
Caller: Oh, I, uh, had a question.
Me: Okay. What is it?
Caller: Do you ever, like, uh, just go out on dates?
Now, I seriously doubt that this guy's just conducting a survey for the American Dating Council. But he doesn't even have the balls to ask me straightforwardly, and his use of oblique approach has set him up for the classic reply: "Yes. But not with you!"
Or I could say, "Why, yes I do, handsome! Why don't you meet me in the men's bathroom at Volunteer Park tonight about ten? Get in one of the stalls, take off all your clothes and wait for me!" …And then just let whatever adventures that might befall him unfold. Charming thought. It's the kind of object lesson that might give him a tiny glimmering of how excruciatingly asinine it is to call up random sex workers and ask them to date you.
But no - it's not really fair to the gentlemen who are there with sincere intentions. So instead I say...
Me: Why are you asking me this?
Caller: Oh, I don't know, I was just bored.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, has got to be the worst answer I have ever heard to such a question. I realize I am helpless in the face of such penetratingly gauche cluelessness, and thus, I do the only thing I can do.
Click. I hang up.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
It'll be a little quiet around here tomorrow and Monday - we're entering the last few days of the Maternal Invasion, and I'm now in full-on submissive mode with my Mom, which basically means I devote all of my waking time and attention to her. I do it because I love her, and also, I admit, to assuage my guilt over the fact that I'm going to be somewhat relieved when she leaves. Yes, family is a good thing - but Jesus, I want to get back to my life-as-usual. (Or my life-as-unusual, depending on how you look at it.)
But at least we won't be around the house for SeaFair Sunday. I hate Seafair. I regard it as a noisy nuisance put on just to annoy me, and it works. Our house is in the flightpath for the Blue fucking Angels as they practice, so they've been roaring overhead every afternoon for the last few days. You can hear the boats, too - it's a distant buzzing sound that never seems to end. Traffic gets crazy, streets are closed, it's just a huge hassle. Bah humbug to SeaFair, that's my opinion...
Our plan for tomorrow is: we're all going to go watch Monk swing a sword (or a mace, or a lance, or whatever he swings) at the Medieval Faire where he's currently performing. It's always amusing to introduce one's perverted friends to one's family, knowing what you know about them. But Monk has graciously offered to show us around and so forth, and I'm sure my Mom and her husband will enjoy it. I'll enjoy it too - just in a different sort of way.
But at least we won't be around the house for SeaFair Sunday. I hate Seafair. I regard it as a noisy nuisance put on just to annoy me, and it works. Our house is in the flightpath for the Blue fucking Angels as they practice, so they've been roaring overhead every afternoon for the last few days. You can hear the boats, too - it's a distant buzzing sound that never seems to end. Traffic gets crazy, streets are closed, it's just a huge hassle. Bah humbug to SeaFair, that's my opinion...
Our plan for tomorrow is: we're all going to go watch Monk swing a sword (or a mace, or a lance, or whatever he swings) at the Medieval Faire where he's currently performing. It's always amusing to introduce one's perverted friends to one's family, knowing what you know about them. But Monk has graciously offered to show us around and so forth, and I'm sure my Mom and her husband will enjoy it. I'll enjoy it too - just in a different sort of way.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Strange Email Of the Week...
It's always weird to me when people contact me and say they want to see me - and then tell me that they don't want what I'm about. I mean, it's like going into an Italian restaraunt and telling them you want sushi. You're setting yourself up for disappointment.
And as a sex worker, when a potential client implies that he's had uniformly unsatisfying experiences with all the other women he's seen, that's a red flag. He's probably going to come into the session with you expecting to be disappointed again, and what I've found is that it's damn near impossible to overcome that expectation. Whatever you did for this guy, it wouldn't be enough.
Plus the fact that I'm not even sure if he's looking for a sex worker or a girlfriend. I mean, I've gotten some nice tips and gifts in my time - but a house? Seems unlikely.
In sum, this has "Mr. Defensive" written all over it, and I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot riding crop.
I will tell you that I have not read your rules nor do I care I am a man who spends his money as I please. I keep on searching for someone and no one has satisfied me yet. I have never done this before but I play by my rules and that means seeing me in my house. I trust no one but I am willing to spend what ever it takes to make me happy. I don't need to come here I can go to any bar any place and spend my money if I please and there are lots of people to take me up on my offer. the question is do you want my money do you want my house because if I meet the right person I will give them all that I have. so if you think that we can talk I am giving you a chance to talk to me as beautiful as you are I hardly doubt that you need my money but if you want to talk write me I am not looking for you to go to bed with me just to satisfy my desires. If this is a chess game it is your move.
It's always weird to me when people contact me and say they want to see me - and then tell me that they don't want what I'm about. I mean, it's like going into an Italian restaraunt and telling them you want sushi. You're setting yourself up for disappointment.
And as a sex worker, when a potential client implies that he's had uniformly unsatisfying experiences with all the other women he's seen, that's a red flag. He's probably going to come into the session with you expecting to be disappointed again, and what I've found is that it's damn near impossible to overcome that expectation. Whatever you did for this guy, it wouldn't be enough.
Plus the fact that I'm not even sure if he's looking for a sex worker or a girlfriend. I mean, I've gotten some nice tips and gifts in my time - but a house? Seems unlikely.
In sum, this has "Mr. Defensive" written all over it, and I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot riding crop.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Stupid Phone Call Of The Day
Ring ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Yes, hello, I want to come and see you.
This guy has a heavy accent that originates from somewhere far south of Texas, which gives me pause. You have to assess men with non-American accents carefully - although it's true that even domestic accents can be a red flag sometimes.
But there are customs in America about how one deals with sex work and sex workers that men from other countries don't share. Hell, most of the time, the laws themselves are quite different. For example, I regularly have to explain to Canadians and Englishmen that sex for money is actually illegal here.
But those are two examples of non-American men with whom, given some discussion beforehand, one can have perfectly enjoyable sessions. Australian men, on the other hand, are sometimes problematic. Western European guys can be fun, but again, you have to clearly explain the no-sex thing to them, because unlike the US, their countries are not ruled by right-wing theocrats, and so they have different experiences.
Asian guys are generally fine as long as they speak English, and Indian men (as in: from India, not Native Americans) are also usually okay. I've had some trouble with Middle Eastern men. And South American/Latin/Hispanic men tend to be - well, the ones I've encountered professionally didn't seem to have bad intentions, but they've proven rather too exuberant and hard to control.
I realize that in making these kinds of generalizations, I run the risk of sounding like I'm a raging cultural supremacist, which I don't think I am. God knows, most of the Stupid Callers I feature here are born and bred in the old US-of-A. It’s just that, like all sex workers, when a new person calls, I'm looking for signals that seeing him would be a safely familiar type of experience. So being from another country is not an insurmountable barrier, but it's something I pay attention to.
Me: Okay, I make appointments Monday through Friday…
I start to go through my spiel, but he interrupts me.
Caller: I want to come see you now. Can I come now? Where are you? You do full-service, yes?
Okay, this would be the annoying idiot of the day.
Me: No, I don't do full service, and no, you can't come see me. Goodbye.
Click. I hang up.
A minute later…
Ring ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Why did you hang up on me?
Me: You said you wanted full service. I don't do full service, so I think you should call someone else.
Caller: I want to come and see you. You don't do full service?
Me: No.
Caller: This is your ad, it says role-play?
Me: Yeeeeees…
Caller: I do a role play with you! Now I can come and see you, yes?
Me: What role-play did you want to do?
Caller: Doctor and patient.
I know damn good and well I'm not going to see this guy, but the sudden switch from wanting full-service (meaning: sex) to wanting to do a role-play has me curious.
Me: And what kinds of things did you want to experience as a patient?
Caller: No, no, I will be the doctor!
Me: You will be the – oh, you know, I don't think that's going to work for me.
Caller: Yes, I will be the doctor and I will give you a breast exam! And a (insert non-English word I don't quite understand, but which I can pretty easily guess the meaning of) exam!
Me: No, and don't call me again.
Click. I hang up. Não me fodas, asshole.
Ring ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Yes, hello, I want to come and see you.
This guy has a heavy accent that originates from somewhere far south of Texas, which gives me pause. You have to assess men with non-American accents carefully - although it's true that even domestic accents can be a red flag sometimes.
But there are customs in America about how one deals with sex work and sex workers that men from other countries don't share. Hell, most of the time, the laws themselves are quite different. For example, I regularly have to explain to Canadians and Englishmen that sex for money is actually illegal here.
But those are two examples of non-American men with whom, given some discussion beforehand, one can have perfectly enjoyable sessions. Australian men, on the other hand, are sometimes problematic. Western European guys can be fun, but again, you have to clearly explain the no-sex thing to them, because unlike the US, their countries are not ruled by right-wing theocrats, and so they have different experiences.
Asian guys are generally fine as long as they speak English, and Indian men (as in: from India, not Native Americans) are also usually okay. I've had some trouble with Middle Eastern men. And South American/Latin/Hispanic men tend to be - well, the ones I've encountered professionally didn't seem to have bad intentions, but they've proven rather too exuberant and hard to control.
I realize that in making these kinds of generalizations, I run the risk of sounding like I'm a raging cultural supremacist, which I don't think I am. God knows, most of the Stupid Callers I feature here are born and bred in the old US-of-A. It’s just that, like all sex workers, when a new person calls, I'm looking for signals that seeing him would be a safely familiar type of experience. So being from another country is not an insurmountable barrier, but it's something I pay attention to.
Me: Okay, I make appointments Monday through Friday…
I start to go through my spiel, but he interrupts me.
Caller: I want to come see you now. Can I come now? Where are you? You do full-service, yes?
Okay, this would be the annoying idiot of the day.
Me: No, I don't do full service, and no, you can't come see me. Goodbye.
Click. I hang up.
A minute later…
Ring ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Why did you hang up on me?
Me: You said you wanted full service. I don't do full service, so I think you should call someone else.
Caller: I want to come and see you. You don't do full service?
Me: No.
Caller: This is your ad, it says role-play?
Me: Yeeeeees…
Caller: I do a role play with you! Now I can come and see you, yes?
Me: What role-play did you want to do?
Caller: Doctor and patient.
I know damn good and well I'm not going to see this guy, but the sudden switch from wanting full-service (meaning: sex) to wanting to do a role-play has me curious.
Me: And what kinds of things did you want to experience as a patient?
Caller: No, no, I will be the doctor!
Me: You will be the – oh, you know, I don't think that's going to work for me.
Caller: Yes, I will be the doctor and I will give you a breast exam! And a (insert non-English word I don't quite understand, but which I can pretty easily guess the meaning of) exam!
Me: No, and don't call me again.
Click. I hang up. Não me fodas, asshole.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Oh, this is very cool, even if it's not going to take effect anytime soon...Judge in Seattle rules in favor of same-sex marriage in Washington state .
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
So, Remittance Girl, who comments here sometimes, has a cool blog of her own. She mentioned me there today, saying some nice things about my writing, which I appreciate...
But then there was this comment:"Mistress Matisse is a sadist. And, personally, as a submissive, I wouldn't want to get within 100 miles of her."
(clapping both hands to my chest) Oh! I'm so wounded by this. And here I thought I was coming across as a nice sadist...
Update: A few minutes later: I am kidding, in case you couldn't tell. I'm slightly surprised, but mainly just amused...
But then there was this comment:"Mistress Matisse is a sadist. And, personally, as a submissive, I wouldn't want to get within 100 miles of her."
(clapping both hands to my chest) Oh! I'm so wounded by this. And here I thought I was coming across as a nice sadist...
Update: A few minutes later: I am kidding, in case you couldn't tell. I'm slightly surprised, but mainly just amused...
Monday, August 02, 2004
Text of an email I got from a client after a first session...These are the letters that make my day.
Thank you for yesterday's wonderful session! I had a great time, and hope that you enjoyed it, too. You are a superb Domme, and a fine lady.
I especially appreciate your receptiveness to my input about things to do, or do with more intensity. I've sessioned in the past with a couple of Dommes who considered that topping from the bottom or a challenge to their authority. But in a first session, when we really don't know each other, I regard it as helping to broaden the menu available for you to choose from, and that it ends up improving the session for both of us. You are obviously very secure in your dominance, and it showed in a very positive way.
I also appreciated your expressions of how you were enjoying the things you were doing and my reactions. It is important to me that the Domme has fun, too, and I also felt a sense that was much greater than usual of wanting to take more for you because you were showing how much you enjoyed it.
Thank you again for accepting me for a session. It was the highlight of my visit to Seattle.
It's a very sweet note, and he mentions something I just touched on in my column about the pleasures of topping: the bottom will struggle to take more intense sensation if the top shows clearly that they want it and that they're enjoying it. And I don't mean saying things like, "You better take more, asshole!" I mean a positive demonstration, like "I love it when you writhe around and moan like that. I love feeling the cane connect with your ass." Things like that keep a bottom going past places where they'd otherwise fold, because you're giving their pain a purpose: it pleases you.
Of course, you have to be sincere when you say those things - but then, I always am. Because I do love it...
Sunday, August 01, 2004
Marketing is good, but you have to know how to fine-tune your message...After on-air pitch,'escort' arrested in sting .
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Someone emailed me today and said, "How come you never write about Max?"
Well, I have, and I'm sure I will again. I've actually been nudging him about making a guest post here. Some of ya'll asked about the always-being-a-top thing, and I think he has some interesting stuff to say about that. Maybe when our parade of houseguests is over in two weeks, I'll get him to do that.
Meanwhile, in the name of parity, you can read an archived Control Tower column about him here...
I'm also charmed by Monk's reference to him of late...
Okay, back into the hosting-Midori weekend...
Well, I have, and I'm sure I will again. I've actually been nudging him about making a guest post here. Some of ya'll asked about the always-being-a-top thing, and I think he has some interesting stuff to say about that. Maybe when our parade of houseguests is over in two weeks, I'll get him to do that.
Meanwhile, in the name of parity, you can read an archived Control Tower column about him here...
I'm also charmed by Monk's reference to him of late...
Okay, back into the hosting-Midori weekend...
Friday, July 30, 2004
I'm dashing off into a busy afternoon and evening, but I wanted to send a quick "Thank You" note to a very sweet man. Jake and I were at Coastal Kitchen last night, and after we had our dinner, we shared a piece of rather decadent chocolate cake.
When the waitress brought the bill, she said, "But the guy working in the pantry bought you dessert."
"He did? Why did he do that?"
She shrugged and smiled enigmatically. "You'll have to ask him."
When she walked away, Jake said, "He's one of your fans."
"No…You think?"
"I bet that's it."
Coastal Kitchen has an open kitchen – you can see all the chefs at work. So on our way out, we went up the guy the waitress had gestured towards.
I smiled at him. "So, you bought us dessert?"
He smiled back, "Yes."
"May I ask why?"
He leaned closer to me and said softly, "You are Mistress Matisse, right?"
So we chatted for a minute about common interests and then I thanked him and Jake and I left. But what a very sweet guy, and a nice thing to do – so, thank you…
When the waitress brought the bill, she said, "But the guy working in the pantry bought you dessert."
"He did? Why did he do that?"
She shrugged and smiled enigmatically. "You'll have to ask him."
When she walked away, Jake said, "He's one of your fans."
"No…You think?"
"I bet that's it."
Coastal Kitchen has an open kitchen – you can see all the chefs at work. So on our way out, we went up the guy the waitress had gestured towards.
I smiled at him. "So, you bought us dessert?"
He smiled back, "Yes."
"May I ask why?"
He leaned closer to me and said softly, "You are Mistress Matisse, right?"
So we chatted for a minute about common interests and then I thanked him and Jake and I left. But what a very sweet guy, and a nice thing to do – so, thank you…
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Do you do dominance sessions with couples?
I always marvel to myself at people who plunge into conversations like this without first making certain that they are, in fact, speaking to me. I mean, have they never dialed a wrong number in their life?
My first-impressions response is telling me "no" about this guy. He didn't say "hello, may I speak to…" etc. And he sounds way too young. But we'll dance a few more steps with him.
Me: Sometimes. Why don't you tell me a little about who you are, and what your experience is, and what you and your partner are looking for from me.
Caller: Well, I'd like to do this as a surprise for my girlfriend…
Boom. That's it, game over. I'd hang up right now, except that he'd just call back. But there is no way I will ever do a session where I'm a surprise for someone.
Perhaps you're wondering, "Gee, could she have had a bad experience in a similar situation?" Allow me to inform you that you cannot begin to imagine the apocalypse which can be wreaked by an irate spouse under such circumstances. I myself don't have to imagine it – I was there.
But I left, expeditiously. Pity the fool who had to stay behind, in a presumably vain attempt to prevent all his worldly possessions from being flung out a window six stories down to the concrete below. From the safety of the street, it looked as if it was raining CD jewel boxes and Façonnable shirts. The homeless people thought it was the second coming.
No, I will never, ever, be a surprise for someone's partner.
He's still talking -
Caller: …I'd like to like, blindfold her and bring her into your dungeon and like, tie her up and have you just start flogging her, and she won't know where she is, or who you are or anything. I think that would be really hot.
Me: No, I don't do scenes like that. She'll have to talk to me on the phone before I set the appointment, and when you get here, she'll have to talk to me and tell me that she's okay with me playing with her before I do anything.
Caller: Oh, man - really? I mean, I know she'd dig it, we've talked about coming to see you, but I think she's just, you know, kinda shy? Once she got warmed up and all, I know she'd be into it.
Me: I understand that. However, for my own peace of mind, I need to hear all that from her directly.
Caller: (cajolingly) She's really hot. She's 25, and she's got long dark hair, and a really pretty body, and –
Why do some guys think women will be swayed by shit like this? This boy needs a big ole whack with the clue stick: Unlike him, I'm actually not a mindless slave to my hormones.
Me: That is completely beside the point. Everyone I play with has to consent – to me, in person – before I lay a hand on them. That's my rule. If you don't like it you're welcome to try someone else.
Caller: Well, shit, I guess I will. I didn't know you were gonna be so bitchy about it.
Click. He hangs up.
I scroll through the Caller ID, and yep, there's his number. I wonder if I should call back in an hour or two and see if his girlfriend answers the phone. "Hey sweetie, better talk to your man, he's planning an intense surprise for you."
No, bad idea. Tempting, though. Maybe he'd wind up doing a submission scene that he didn't expect. What a charming thought.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Do you do dominance sessions with couples?
I always marvel to myself at people who plunge into conversations like this without first making certain that they are, in fact, speaking to me. I mean, have they never dialed a wrong number in their life?
My first-impressions response is telling me "no" about this guy. He didn't say "hello, may I speak to…" etc. And he sounds way too young. But we'll dance a few more steps with him.
Me: Sometimes. Why don't you tell me a little about who you are, and what your experience is, and what you and your partner are looking for from me.
Caller: Well, I'd like to do this as a surprise for my girlfriend…
Boom. That's it, game over. I'd hang up right now, except that he'd just call back. But there is no way I will ever do a session where I'm a surprise for someone.
Perhaps you're wondering, "Gee, could she have had a bad experience in a similar situation?" Allow me to inform you that you cannot begin to imagine the apocalypse which can be wreaked by an irate spouse under such circumstances. I myself don't have to imagine it – I was there.
But I left, expeditiously. Pity the fool who had to stay behind, in a presumably vain attempt to prevent all his worldly possessions from being flung out a window six stories down to the concrete below. From the safety of the street, it looked as if it was raining CD jewel boxes and Façonnable shirts. The homeless people thought it was the second coming.
No, I will never, ever, be a surprise for someone's partner.
He's still talking -
Caller: …I'd like to like, blindfold her and bring her into your dungeon and like, tie her up and have you just start flogging her, and she won't know where she is, or who you are or anything. I think that would be really hot.
Me: No, I don't do scenes like that. She'll have to talk to me on the phone before I set the appointment, and when you get here, she'll have to talk to me and tell me that she's okay with me playing with her before I do anything.
Caller: Oh, man - really? I mean, I know she'd dig it, we've talked about coming to see you, but I think she's just, you know, kinda shy? Once she got warmed up and all, I know she'd be into it.
Me: I understand that. However, for my own peace of mind, I need to hear all that from her directly.
Caller: (cajolingly) She's really hot. She's 25, and she's got long dark hair, and a really pretty body, and –
Why do some guys think women will be swayed by shit like this? This boy needs a big ole whack with the clue stick: Unlike him, I'm actually not a mindless slave to my hormones.
Me: That is completely beside the point. Everyone I play with has to consent – to me, in person – before I lay a hand on them. That's my rule. If you don't like it you're welcome to try someone else.
Caller: Well, shit, I guess I will. I didn't know you were gonna be so bitchy about it.
Click. He hangs up.
I scroll through the Caller ID, and yep, there's his number. I wonder if I should call back in an hour or two and see if his girlfriend answers the phone. "Hey sweetie, better talk to your man, he's planning an intense surprise for you."
No, bad idea. Tempting, though. Maybe he'd wind up doing a submission scene that he didn't expect. What a charming thought.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
So, I'd like to conduct a poll…I'd like you to tell me what your favorite entry is. The reason I ask is that it looks like a selection of my writings here are going to appear in a sex-blogger anthology. I speak of this rather cautiously, because I haven't actually signed a contract yet, but let's say that I feel reasonably sure it's going to happen. I'll give you more details about this as it becomes appropriate.
I know what ones I like, and I can infer a great deal from your comments. But if you have a particular favorite, let me know about that, please…
I know what ones I like, and I can infer a great deal from your comments. But if you have a particular favorite, let me know about that, please…
Saturday, July 24, 2004
In the wake of this new sex book: "She Comes First: The Thinking Man's Guide To Pleasuring a Woman", there seems to be a lot of chat online lately about cunnilingus. Lilith has some good things to say about oral sex and the clitoris...
Friday, July 23, 2004
I'm sitting at my computer in a sleep-deprived daze, because I didn't get home from my date with Roman until around 4am. Luckily I had foresight enough not to schedule myself anything until 5pm, so I've had some time to get some caffeine working in my body and practice focusing my eyes properly.
How was the date? Well, I wasn't home until 4am – you should be able to infer a great deal from that alone…
For me, there are different kinds of attraction to people. Sometimes it's a very BDSM-based attraction. My responses to the object of my desire are rooted firmly in my SM-self, and my fantasies center around what kinds of play I want to do with them. Sex may or may not be involved, but when it is, it’s more of a method of expressing my dominance over them than achieving an orgasm or three.
And then sometimes I'm just plain sexually attracted to people. It's not about having a strong dominant (or submissive) response to the person in question. I just want to jump them. But they are usually kinky people, because that's who I hang out with. (Mike was a notable exception to this rule.)
Now, in the best of all possible worlds, once the two people in question have taken a little of the edge off their sheer animal lust, and they start getting to know each other a little more, they may find that they do have some complementary BDSM interests. When I approached Roman, I basically said, "I like you, and I think we should get in the same room together and take off our clothes and see what happens." Today I have some very nice bite marks on my back, and I'm guessing his nipples might be a bit tender. We had a fabulous time, and I think I know a lot more about what kinds of BDSM we might do together. It's always great when the first sexual experience you have with someone just fills you with inspiration about what else you'd like to do with them.
How was the date? Well, I wasn't home until 4am – you should be able to infer a great deal from that alone…
For me, there are different kinds of attraction to people. Sometimes it's a very BDSM-based attraction. My responses to the object of my desire are rooted firmly in my SM-self, and my fantasies center around what kinds of play I want to do with them. Sex may or may not be involved, but when it is, it’s more of a method of expressing my dominance over them than achieving an orgasm or three.
And then sometimes I'm just plain sexually attracted to people. It's not about having a strong dominant (or submissive) response to the person in question. I just want to jump them. But they are usually kinky people, because that's who I hang out with. (Mike was a notable exception to this rule.)
Now, in the best of all possible worlds, once the two people in question have taken a little of the edge off their sheer animal lust, and they start getting to know each other a little more, they may find that they do have some complementary BDSM interests. When I approached Roman, I basically said, "I like you, and I think we should get in the same room together and take off our clothes and see what happens." Today I have some very nice bite marks on my back, and I'm guessing his nipples might be a bit tender. We had a fabulous time, and I think I know a lot more about what kinds of BDSM we might do together. It's always great when the first sexual experience you have with someone just fills you with inspiration about what else you'd like to do with them.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
There's a phrase, "an open secret". That means a secret that isn't really secret. Something lots of people know about, but that isn't talked about – or at least, not much.
My open secret? Mistress Matisse is a switch. (What the hell is a switch?)
Lots of people know this about me – all of my friends, a fair number of my clients, and many, many random kinky strangers who've seen me playing with Max at various parties and leather conferences. But I have made only the briefest of references to this fact in my column, and I haven't talked about it here at all, and I have my reasons for that.
It's not that I'm worried about how other SM people will see me. Being a switch is not at all remarkable in the SM community. There are very, very few tops who have never bottomed at all, I've only met about four or five that I know of. (Max is one of them, interestingly enough.) I personally know a number of folks who, while perceived as badass tops by most people, say they would bottom in a second if they met the right person.
But outside the community, being a switch is a bit like being bisexual. The uninformed tend to assume that means your inclinations are split 50/50, and you like one role just as well as the other. Perhaps true for some - definitely not so for me. I don't think of myself as a submissive, and I'm definitely not a slave. Most of the pomp and ceremony of what people call D/s doesn't impress me as a top, and the idea of doing it as a bottom makes me laugh - I don't write my name in lowercase, and I'm not about to call anyone "Master". I have topped literally thousands of people. I can count the number of people I've bottomed to on two hands. That should tell you all you need to know about how I'm wired.
So what I really am is a top with a masochistic streak. My tastes are highly specific, and I'm quite selective about who I'll allow to provide the stimuli that I enjoy. Max happens to be very, very good at giving me what I like – probably because it's what he likes, too. Someone asked a few days ago how we handled being two-tops-in-love. Now you know...
While I'm not very good at the submissive thing, I do try to be polite while Max indulges our mutual kinky tastes. However, the physical stress of our play can strain even my deeply-rooted sense of courtesy, and so I don't always succeed. Fortunately, he seems to find it amusing when I scream curses at him while we play, even if it's in a crowded dungeon, like, say – Thunder in the Mountains. One might even suspect that he enjoys provoking me to such lengths, since he is such a sadistic son-of-a-bitch. (Kiss! Love you, darling!) But his pleasure is based on the fact that he knows I'm enjoying it, too – even if I have an unusual way of showing it.
The main reason I don't publish much writing about this side of my kinkysex life is this: I am generally able to regard with weary patience the emails and phone calls I get from strange people importuning me to be their Mistress. I don't mean the folks seeking professional appointments, I mean the will-you-have-a-relationship-with-me guys. True, I have occasional bursts of irritation. But most of the time, I have some compassion in my heart for such people, and I try not to treat them too roughly.
However, I find myself without any compassion for strangers who send me emails that say things like this:
And that's a relatively good-natured one.
I think the reason why electronic assaults by clueless poltroons who call themselves "Master" annoy me more than the grotesque entreaties of people like the Tampon Guy is this: I know how it should be done. I cannot say with any degree of sincerity that I know the perfect way to approach someone as a bottom. I don't ask strangers to send me used feminine hygiene products, you understand – but I'm guessing that my approach is probably a bit on the blunt side. (My initial offer to Max: "I'll bottom to you if you bottom to me." Once he picked his jaw up off the floor, he took me up on exactly half of that invitation.)
However, when it comes to entrancing and enticing potential submissives, well, my kung fu is the best. It should be, I've spent years polishing it. So when I'm on the receiving end of a really bungled pass, I am possessed by the outraged spirit of Cyrano De Bergerac. "Oh, what you could have said!" These weedy fly-bitten popinjays, these pribbling clumsy clay-brained miscreants – how dare they think they can share the same job title as me? How dare they presume to use the word dominant? Their sin's not accidental, but a trade.
See what I mean? I get all indignant just thinking about it. So you're on notice: if I receive, in the wake of this post, any stupid emails from witless wanna-bees asking to spank me, I will publish them here - including the email address – and I will, of course, rip the author to shreds for the entertainment of everyone. You've been warned.
My open secret? Mistress Matisse is a switch. (What the hell is a switch?)
Lots of people know this about me – all of my friends, a fair number of my clients, and many, many random kinky strangers who've seen me playing with Max at various parties and leather conferences. But I have made only the briefest of references to this fact in my column, and I haven't talked about it here at all, and I have my reasons for that.
It's not that I'm worried about how other SM people will see me. Being a switch is not at all remarkable in the SM community. There are very, very few tops who have never bottomed at all, I've only met about four or five that I know of. (Max is one of them, interestingly enough.) I personally know a number of folks who, while perceived as badass tops by most people, say they would bottom in a second if they met the right person.
But outside the community, being a switch is a bit like being bisexual. The uninformed tend to assume that means your inclinations are split 50/50, and you like one role just as well as the other. Perhaps true for some - definitely not so for me. I don't think of myself as a submissive, and I'm definitely not a slave. Most of the pomp and ceremony of what people call D/s doesn't impress me as a top, and the idea of doing it as a bottom makes me laugh - I don't write my name in lowercase, and I'm not about to call anyone "Master". I have topped literally thousands of people. I can count the number of people I've bottomed to on two hands. That should tell you all you need to know about how I'm wired.
So what I really am is a top with a masochistic streak. My tastes are highly specific, and I'm quite selective about who I'll allow to provide the stimuli that I enjoy. Max happens to be very, very good at giving me what I like – probably because it's what he likes, too. Someone asked a few days ago how we handled being two-tops-in-love. Now you know...
While I'm not very good at the submissive thing, I do try to be polite while Max indulges our mutual kinky tastes. However, the physical stress of our play can strain even my deeply-rooted sense of courtesy, and so I don't always succeed. Fortunately, he seems to find it amusing when I scream curses at him while we play, even if it's in a crowded dungeon, like, say – Thunder in the Mountains. One might even suspect that he enjoys provoking me to such lengths, since he is such a sadistic son-of-a-bitch. (Kiss! Love you, darling!) But his pleasure is based on the fact that he knows I'm enjoying it, too – even if I have an unusual way of showing it.
The main reason I don't publish much writing about this side of my kinkysex life is this: I am generally able to regard with weary patience the emails and phone calls I get from strange people importuning me to be their Mistress. I don't mean the folks seeking professional appointments, I mean the will-you-have-a-relationship-with-me guys. True, I have occasional bursts of irritation. But most of the time, I have some compassion in my heart for such people, and I try not to treat them too roughly.
However, I find myself without any compassion for strangers who send me emails that say things like this:
I WANT TO MAKE YOU MY ANAL SEX SLAVE !! I WANNA STRAP YOU DOWN, BLINDFOLD YOU , GAG YOU , SPANK YOU AND FUCK YOUR SWEET ASS WITH MY BIG, FAT , MONSTER COCK OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN !!!
And that's a relatively good-natured one.
I think the reason why electronic assaults by clueless poltroons who call themselves "Master" annoy me more than the grotesque entreaties of people like the Tampon Guy is this: I know how it should be done. I cannot say with any degree of sincerity that I know the perfect way to approach someone as a bottom. I don't ask strangers to send me used feminine hygiene products, you understand – but I'm guessing that my approach is probably a bit on the blunt side. (My initial offer to Max: "I'll bottom to you if you bottom to me." Once he picked his jaw up off the floor, he took me up on exactly half of that invitation.)
However, when it comes to entrancing and enticing potential submissives, well, my kung fu is the best. It should be, I've spent years polishing it. So when I'm on the receiving end of a really bungled pass, I am possessed by the outraged spirit of Cyrano De Bergerac. "Oh, what you could have said!" These weedy fly-bitten popinjays, these pribbling clumsy clay-brained miscreants – how dare they think they can share the same job title as me? How dare they presume to use the word dominant? Their sin's not accidental, but a trade.
See what I mean? I get all indignant just thinking about it. So you're on notice: if I receive, in the wake of this post, any stupid emails from witless wanna-bees asking to spank me, I will publish them here - including the email address – and I will, of course, rip the author to shreds for the entertainment of everyone. You've been warned.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Police in the Florida Keys are mystified by a bizarre new pastime — young people dangling themselves from meat hooks on a popular sandbar.
I think I'd try to find a more secluded spot, but that's just me. Maybe the Florida cops should consult with Fakir Musafar, who could explain to them exactly why people are doing this. I've never done a full hook suspension, but I've done an energy pull, and one of these days I'm going to have to do it again... Me and the flesh hooks, Part One...
And Part Two...
I think I'd try to find a more secluded spot, but that's just me. Maybe the Florida cops should consult with Fakir Musafar, who could explain to them exactly why people are doing this. I've never done a full hook suspension, but I've done an energy pull, and one of these days I'm going to have to do it again... Me and the flesh hooks, Part One...
And Part Two...
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
What nice comments on my previous entry…So yes, I will talk about Thunder, but I'm too brain-fried from my weekend to write coherently about that right now. Perhaps tomorrow…
Meanwhile, I'm listening to my voicemails. I cleared them twice while I was gone, but still, the phone messages stack up fast…
YOU HAVE 13 NEW MESSAGES. PRESS 1 TO HEAR MESSAGES.
Beep!
"Hi, Matisse, it's Pete, just following up on our email. I'll definitely see you Thursday at 2. Oh, I have a request, if you don't mind? Would you wear that PVC skirt and the boots that lace up? You look so hot in that. I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
It's so nice to have good regulars.
Beep!
"Hi, my name is John. I'm going to be in Seattle this weekend and wanted to know about an appointment for Saturday night at around 8. My cell number is XXX-XXXX, area code, XXX. Give me a call."
END OF MESSAGE.
He sounds nice enough – but he didn't read my webpage, bad boy. It states "Monday through Friday" quite clearly. The trouble with guys who don't read the webpage is that not only do they not know my schedule, they often don't know a lot of other things – like what I will and won't do, for example. I may call him back and tell him my schedule and see if he wants to do a weekday appointment. Or I may not, depending on how busy I am.
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob. I want to see you. Call me at XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
There's a flat, staccato tone to this guy's voice that I don't like. He speaks as if his sentences don't have any relationship to each other, like someone repeating the sounds of a foreign language that they don't really understand. It's not a good sign, and I've learned to always go with my gut response to stuff like this.
Beep!
"Hello? Hello? Are you there? Is anyone there? Can you hear me? Hello?"
END OF MESSAGE.
Jesus, what decade is this guy living in? Answering machines where you can screen calls are like dinosaurs these days. He sounds like an old guy, though, so if he calls back we'll cut him a little slack. I like older guys. My oldest client ever: seventy-seven. And horny as hell, no blue pills required.
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob. I called earlier. Call me soon. XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
Oh, that's not good. I check the time of this message and it's about an hour after the first one. I don't like that.
Beep!
Ooooooo Mistress, I wanna suck your –"
MESSAGE DELETED.
Beep!
Hello, Mistress, it's Andrew. I saw you once before about two months ago and I'd love to see you again. I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was the guy who brought you a wooden cutting board and you spanked me with it. Can you call me – discreetly – at my work number, XXX-XXXX, after 11am tomorrow? That would be great. Thanks, bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
I do remember him, he was a sweetie, and I loved the originality of the cutting-board-as-paddle. Top of the call-back list for Andrew.
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob again. Please call me at XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
Forty minutes since his last message. Bob is definitely creeping me out.
Beep!
"Hi, Matisse, my dear, it's James. I just wanted to tell you what a wonderful time I had with you last week. You're a beautiful lady and I really enjoy our time together. Oh, and I know you were a little concerned about that bruise on my cock, but I don't want you to worry, it's gotten much smaller and it's not terribly sore at all. You know I've done worse just playing around by myself. So don't worry, I'm tough, and I wouldn't change a thing about our scene. Take care and I'll see you soon."
END OF MESSAGE.
Oh, how sweet of James to call and reassure me. Cock and ball torture is a favorite of mine, and when I'm playing with someone who likes it as much as I do, occasionally we get so enthusiastic that, well, there are bruises. I always worry about this when it happens. I've never done any long-lasting damage to anyone, and I'd like to keep it that way. But James is an experienced CBT practitioner and, like many boys who enjoy heavy CBT, he's tried out a lot of creative and extreme forms of that art on himself. So I do trust his judgment, and I'm sure he's got the situation well in hand. (Yes, I had to say it.)
Beep!
"Hello. This is Bob. I called before. I really want to see you. Call me back at–"
MESSAGE DELETED.
No, Bob, I will not be calling you, because nothing says, "I'm a serious weirdo!" like calling me every half-hour.
Beep!
"Hi, Mistress Matisse, my name is Brandy, I was wondering if you were hiring assistants right now? If you are could you please call me back at XXX-XXXX? Thanks a lot, bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
Sorry, Brandy - not now, not ever.
Beep!
"Hello. My number is XXX-XXXX. Please call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
Ah-ha. Bob's trying a different tack – leaving a number without a name. I don't return calls like that anyway - but there's no disguising that Thorazine voice of his.
Beep!
"Oh, um, hi, this is John. I called before asking about a Saturday appointment, and then I read on your webpage that you don't do weekend appointments, so I feel kinda dumb. So would you be available on Monday? You can call me at XXX-XXX-XXXX. Sorry about the confusion earlier."
END OF MESSAGE.
I'm charmed by this message. I look favorably upon people who cop to mistakes, and what a nicely contrite tone of voice, too. Okay, John, you made it to call-back list. I do like a man who's trainable.
Monday, July 19, 2004
Just a quickie...Thunder was great, as always. We're on a plane home tomorrow, (later today, really) and I'll have to spend some time de-kinking the house before the Maternal Invasion begins on Tuesday. But I will find time to write some about my weekend.
But before I sit down to write about what I did at Thunder, I will have to settle an internal debate about just how much information about my personal kinky proclivities I'm going to disclose here. (My friends will know exactly what I mean by this.) The jury is still out...but I'm leaning towards telling you some things about me that may surprise or confuse the less BDSM-savvy among you. Stay tuned for revelations.
But before I sit down to write about what I did at Thunder, I will have to settle an internal debate about just how much information about my personal kinky proclivities I'm going to disclose here. (My friends will know exactly what I mean by this.) The jury is still out...but I'm leaning towards telling you some things about me that may surprise or confuse the less BDSM-savvy among you. Stay tuned for revelations.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Okay, I know I said radio silence, but Max decided to bring the laptop, and we got the high-speed connection going in the room, so...
We're here at Thunder. Or rather, it's the gathering storm, if you will. Kinky people are beginning to invade. but we won't have complete control of the whole hotel until tomorrow, when the conference officially begins.
It's always rather amusing, actually, to walk around the hotel lobby and the bar on Thursday afternoon and say to oneself, "They're here for the conference, but they're not. Oh, he is definitely one of us, but those women aren't..." We more or less behave ourself in the public spaces (most of us do, anyway) and especially so when the vanilla folks are still here. But you can spot the kinksters...
It's harder on Sunday afternoon, when the hotel starts checking in vanilla guests again. We've had free run of the place for two days, and everyone is pleasantly exhausted by a weekend of non-stop activity in an entirely kink-oriented world. One has to remind oneself to be mindful, once again, of explicit conversations in a close quarters with the non-kinky folks. Not everyone does the re-entry thing well, you understand. Last year at this con I was standing in an elevator with three perverts and two airline personnel and listened to this conversation.
"So I was flogging the clothespins off his balls last night at the party and a little bit of skin came with them. You should have heard him howl."
"I did hear him carrying on, but I couldn't see what you were doing, exactly. I had my hands full with the suspension X and I were doing."
Banjo eyes on the airline people, to which the two men having the conversation seemed completely oblivious. Or maybe they were doing it just to fuck with them, I don't know. I don't approve of that kind of thing generally - I think it's rude and childish. I don't want to be forced to listen to intimate things about the sexual lives of most strangers, either. But on this occasion, for some reason, I was torn between annoyance and amusement. Maybe it was the utterly blase tone of voice they were speaking in...
Tomorrow we'll get out registration packets, look over the workshop schedule - Thunder has the best workshops! - and then just sit in the lobby and watch out friends arrive. Then dinner, and then - the dungeon party.I don't know if I'll post again, but if I get a minute, I'll drop by...
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Weirdass Email of the Week....
What I'm supposed to think when I read this: "Wow, what an amazingly sympathetic, unselfish guy he must be, to make me an offer like this. Nothing at all in it for him, no, no…"
What I actually think: "What a manipulative fetishist."
And who knew that simply recieving a woman's used tampons by mail would lead to "cramps, bloating, discomforting pain, inconvenience, time taken from your life, expense and irritable moody feelings"?
Gee, apparently Bush has been looking in the wrong places for those weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Those clever Iraqi women have been hiding them under their skirts. Can he really think I'm going to be pleased by the idea that using a piece of bleached cotton to absorb a few tablespoons of my blood transforms it into the equivalent of a anthrax lab? I've heard of vagina dentata, but this is ridiculous.
No, saving up used tampons to box up and ship to some weirdo is how I make my period difficult for me. It actually isn't the horror story you're trying convince me it is, buddy.
I edited for sheer length here, since he goes through all the numbers for 18 tampons, and then for 24, and then 28, and so on, adding by fours, all the way to...
I wonder if this guy's an accountant. Or maybe a 4th grade math tutor – his multiplying-by-four prowess is impressive, although his grammar and syntax need work.
Now, this makes my pussy sound like either Santa Claus or the CIA. Except if my pussy were the CIA, it would have found Bin Laden by now. And given Bin Laden and his comrades' views on women, the idea of a giant, marauding pussy chasing them down, a la Woody Allen, is probably far more terrifying than being chased by the CIA.
Dear Queenly Mistress,
I strongly urge you to not allow or tolerate me to be free any longer from getting your periods forced on me and be another woman to get your long overdue sexual justice PAY BACK TIMES and START TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS WITH ME AND GIVING ME THE REAL BUSINESS WITH YOUR ULTIMATE WOMANHOOD and use your used cunt hole stick tampons for what they were meant to be used for by you and force my cunt hole mouth to get stuffed and rammed full of them for all of them to EXPLODE with your period for me to have to cuntsume every last drop of your cunt flow period.
Why should men be free from periods and having no sympathetic caring feelings about what you as a woman have to endure with the cramps, bloating, discomforting pain, inconvenience, time taken from your life, expense and irritable moody feelings??????
What I'm supposed to think when I read this: "Wow, what an amazingly sympathetic, unselfish guy he must be, to make me an offer like this. Nothing at all in it for him, no, no…"
What I actually think: "What a manipulative fetishist."
And who knew that simply recieving a woman's used tampons by mail would lead to "cramps, bloating, discomforting pain, inconvenience, time taken from your life, expense and irritable moody feelings"?
Queenly Mistress, why waste them by throwing them away, when you can put them to a positive use for yourself and get paid for having your periods forced on you???Why should you have the expense of having to purchase the box of unused TAMPAX TAMPONS, when you can force it on me as part of your period forcing power?????
I will allow you $5.00 to $7.00 so I and not you have this expense.
I will allow you $5.00 for the shipping cost for you to send me your used love hole stick tampons.
HOW MANY used FEMININE WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION tampons X $5.00 is the way you financially inflict the discomforting pain on me with your period being forced on me.
Gee, apparently Bush has been looking in the wrong places for those weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Those clever Iraqi women have been hiding them under their skirts. Can he really think I'm going to be pleased by the idea that using a piece of bleached cotton to absorb a few tablespoons of my blood transforms it into the equivalent of a anthrax lab? I've heard of vagina dentata, but this is ridiculous.
A few examples for you:
6 of your used tootsie roll pussy pop sucker tampons = 6 X $5.00=$30.00
My expense of box of unused TAMPAX or OB TAMPONSz=7.00
Shipping cost for you to send me your weapons of mass destruction = $5.00
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Financial pain forced on me by you FORCING your period on me = $ 32.00
Rounded off dollar amount Your Forced Period on me total expense = $ 40.00
12 of your used tootsie roll pussy pop sucker tampons = 12 X $5.00 =$60.00
My expense of box of unused TAMPAX or OB TAMPONS = $ 7.00
Shipping cost for you to send me your weapons of mass destruction = $5.00
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can not physically endure what you do, so this is how you make your period difficult for me.
No, saving up used tampons to box up and ship to some weirdo is how I make my period difficult for me. It actually isn't the horror story you're trying convince me it is, buddy.
I edited for sheer length here, since he goes through all the numbers for 18 tampons, and then for 24, and then 28, and so on, adding by fours, all the way to...
Unrealistic but possible 54 total period expense= $282.00 rounded = $285.00
PIPE DREAMS 60 total period expense = $312.00 rounded = $315.00
70 total period expense = $362.00 rounded = $365.00
80 total period expense = $412.00 rounded = $415.00
I wonder if this guy's an accountant. Or maybe a 4th grade math tutor – his multiplying-by-four prowess is impressive, although his grammar and syntax need work.
The purpose and objective of my e-mail to you is for me to have you educated that now your womanhood has caught up with me and found out about me. There is no where for me to run or hide that your womanhood will not know about and that you do have me at the complete mercy of your ultimate womanhood and there is not a dam thing that I can do about it.
Now, this makes my pussy sound like either Santa Claus or the CIA. Except if my pussy were the CIA, it would have found Bin Laden by now. And given Bin Laden and his comrades' views on women, the idea of a giant, marauding pussy chasing them down, a la Woody Allen, is probably far more terrifying than being chased by the CIA.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Emails from friends that I haven't had time to answer…
"How was the shoot with Monk?" Great, even though he kept making me laugh when I was trying to look all Mistress-y and shit. I've seen the raw files, but I'm waiting for the Photoshop maestro to finish color-balancing and so on before I post a sample.
"When do you leave for Thunder in the Mountains?" Thursday, so there will be radio silence around here from Thursday to Monday. Try not to get DT's or anything.
"How did your date with Jake go?" Lovely. I took him with me to do a little fetishwear shopping – it’s so nice that Rose Algren, designer of many things sexy, stretchy and shiny, only lives about ten blocks away from me. I can just go over and do my shopping in her dining room.
After stopping by there, we went to dinner at Septieme, where I actually did not run into anyone I know. I think that's a first for me at that restaurant.
And then I took him over to my dungeon and showed him around...
"Hey, let's go do X when you get back from Thunder!" Well, I'd like that, but things will be complicated at my house soon, because my mother is coming to visit me. Brace yourself for some whining about that, because I'm really not cut out to be submissive for more than about five minutes at a time. And my mother is a small, sweet woman with big blue eyes, a gentle southern accent, and the uncanny ability to completely dominate not only me, but damn near everyone who's in the room with her. Max is somewhat immune to her bizarre power, but he can't protect me all the time.
Don't get me wrong. I love my mom. I even like my mom. There are many, many wonderful things about my mom. It's just that she's kind of like Napoleon in a Chico's tunic.
So she's here, and then she leaves to go to Portland for a few days, so I'll have a little window of freedom in the middle of her visit. Except, while she's gone – guess what? Max and I are having another houseguest. Guess who it is. Midori.
Now Midori is way cool, and I'm happy to have her as my guest while she's here in Seattle teaching classes, but Jesus, what kind of cosmic joke is this, to have my mother and Midori – easily two of the world's most dominant women – staying in our house, pretty much back-to-back! What is the universe trying to tell me with this?
I'm guessing that of the two, Midori will be much easier to cope with, because she has a lot of people just dying to bottom to her. My mother, however, has only my brother and myself – and sometimes, I think, her husband – to hypnotize into obedience. Although perhaps I'm underestimating her - perhaps she has this effect on everyone. Somehow, I don't find that comforting.
"How was the shoot with Monk?" Great, even though he kept making me laugh when I was trying to look all Mistress-y and shit. I've seen the raw files, but I'm waiting for the Photoshop maestro to finish color-balancing and so on before I post a sample.
"When do you leave for Thunder in the Mountains?" Thursday, so there will be radio silence around here from Thursday to Monday. Try not to get DT's or anything.
"How did your date with Jake go?" Lovely. I took him with me to do a little fetishwear shopping – it’s so nice that Rose Algren, designer of many things sexy, stretchy and shiny, only lives about ten blocks away from me. I can just go over and do my shopping in her dining room.
After stopping by there, we went to dinner at Septieme, where I actually did not run into anyone I know. I think that's a first for me at that restaurant.
And then I took him over to my dungeon and showed him around...
"Hey, let's go do X when you get back from Thunder!" Well, I'd like that, but things will be complicated at my house soon, because my mother is coming to visit me. Brace yourself for some whining about that, because I'm really not cut out to be submissive for more than about five minutes at a time. And my mother is a small, sweet woman with big blue eyes, a gentle southern accent, and the uncanny ability to completely dominate not only me, but damn near everyone who's in the room with her. Max is somewhat immune to her bizarre power, but he can't protect me all the time.
Don't get me wrong. I love my mom. I even like my mom. There are many, many wonderful things about my mom. It's just that she's kind of like Napoleon in a Chico's tunic.
So she's here, and then she leaves to go to Portland for a few days, so I'll have a little window of freedom in the middle of her visit. Except, while she's gone – guess what? Max and I are having another houseguest. Guess who it is. Midori.
Now Midori is way cool, and I'm happy to have her as my guest while she's here in Seattle teaching classes, but Jesus, what kind of cosmic joke is this, to have my mother and Midori – easily two of the world's most dominant women – staying in our house, pretty much back-to-back! What is the universe trying to tell me with this?
I'm guessing that of the two, Midori will be much easier to cope with, because she has a lot of people just dying to bottom to her. My mother, however, has only my brother and myself – and sometimes, I think, her husband – to hypnotize into obedience. Although perhaps I'm underestimating her - perhaps she has this effect on everyone. Somehow, I don't find that comforting.
Sunday, July 11, 2004
So, I'm sketching out a "Control Tower" column, and I'm thinking about doing something like "The Pleasures Of Topping". I've gotten a few comments here that were essentially "Why do you enjoy doing what you do?" questions, and I thought it would be cool to write about what I get out of my scenes.
So, if there's a particular aspect of being the top in a BDSM scene that puzzles you, feel free to tell me about that now, either with a comment or in an email. I can't absolutely promise I'll address it, but if it works with what I'm already thinking of, I will.
Completely unrelated: An amusing animation starring Bush and Kerry, to the tune of Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land".
So, if there's a particular aspect of being the top in a BDSM scene that puzzles you, feel free to tell me about that now, either with a comment or in an email. I can't absolutely promise I'll address it, but if it works with what I'm already thinking of, I will.
Completely unrelated: An amusing animation starring Bush and Kerry, to the tune of Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land".
Saturday, July 10, 2004
Not a long post today, as I have a photo shoot soon and I need to get ready for it. (I’m the model, not the shooter.)
Kudos to Monk for winning the "Iron Chef" sushi-making competition last night at the Wet Spot. Not only was the sushi just right, he had a cool presentation and a great-looking back-up crew.
Speaking of modeling, does anyone but me think Cameron Diaz is acting like a spoiled brat? Years ago, she made a rather silly-looking pseudo-SM film legally, and at that time, she presumably got paid and signed a release.
But now, she feels it might tarnish her image, so she's trying to block it's distribution. What did she think was going to happen – the producer was going to keep it in his closet? Of course it's going to get seen by lots of people. That's the purpose of films, even tacky sexploitation ones – and this one looks pretty tacky.
I really don't like it when people try to dodge the consequences of their actions. I'd have a lot more respect for her as an actress if she said, "Yeah, I was nineteen, I needed the money, I thought it might be a way for me to get into better movies, so I did it. Now I find it embarrassing and I wish I hadn't, but – what's done is done."
I don't mean that celebs should have no privacy. Paparazzi hanging out of trees and shooting through windows to get nude pictures of an actress/model/rock star is a whole different thing. But that isn't the situation here.
So suck it up, Cameron. The fuss you're making over this is only going to inflate and prolong the scandal. And who knows, maybe that's what you want. I'm told that in Hollywood, one spins absolutely everything to get the maximum media coverage.
Meanwhile, I'm going get ready for my own close-up…
Kudos to Monk for winning the "Iron Chef" sushi-making competition last night at the Wet Spot. Not only was the sushi just right, he had a cool presentation and a great-looking back-up crew.
Speaking of modeling, does anyone but me think Cameron Diaz is acting like a spoiled brat? Years ago, she made a rather silly-looking pseudo-SM film legally, and at that time, she presumably got paid and signed a release.
But now, she feels it might tarnish her image, so she's trying to block it's distribution. What did she think was going to happen – the producer was going to keep it in his closet? Of course it's going to get seen by lots of people. That's the purpose of films, even tacky sexploitation ones – and this one looks pretty tacky.
I really don't like it when people try to dodge the consequences of their actions. I'd have a lot more respect for her as an actress if she said, "Yeah, I was nineteen, I needed the money, I thought it might be a way for me to get into better movies, so I did it. Now I find it embarrassing and I wish I hadn't, but – what's done is done."
I don't mean that celebs should have no privacy. Paparazzi hanging out of trees and shooting through windows to get nude pictures of an actress/model/rock star is a whole different thing. But that isn't the situation here.
So suck it up, Cameron. The fuss you're making over this is only going to inflate and prolong the scandal. And who knows, maybe that's what you want. I'm told that in Hollywood, one spins absolutely everything to get the maximum media coverage.
Meanwhile, I'm going get ready for my own close-up…
Thursday, July 08, 2004
It's been a crazy week - and no end in sight. The client line won't stop ringing, I still haven't done my pre-Thunder fetishwear shopping, and my weekend is already booked solid. It's fun stuff, though, a photo shoot – and high time for some new pics, too – and a date with Jake. I've also discovered a new addiction: Jones sugar-free Black Cherry soda. Yum.
The theme for the week, work-wise, has been "Boys In Skirts". Tuesday I had one of my favorite fancy-dressing guys. I'll call him Pretty Boy, and I say that affectionately. PB is a damned handsome man, and he's got a trim, attractive body that looks quite sexy in little numbers from Victoria's Secret. We've been playing for a couple of years now, and I really enjoy him.
Wednesday I had a new client, a cute, lean Brit with a penchant for heavy corporal punishment – yay! – during which he wanted to wear a sheer little thong and stockings and a black satin skirt. "Corporal just feels so much better through satin," he said passionately. We had a delightful time.
"Boys In Skirts Week" will come to an abrupt end today, though. Milo is coming to see me, and he doesn't wear high heels. A good thing, too – he's already six-four or thereabouts. He'd bang his head on my ceiling.
But I actually don't have a whole lot of cross-dresser clients, and that's not an accident. In my observation, there are several distinct categories of (male) clients who want to put on women's clothes. They are:
1) Guys who like it because it's an extra-naughty and forbidden thing to do.
2) Closely related: Guys who like it because women's lingerie is silky and satin-y and it just feels good, tactilely.
3) Guys who are seeking the "erotic humiliation" experience of being "forced" to dress up in women's clothes. For these guys, the mistress cross-dressing them is a punishment, or a demonstration of her cruelty and dominance. Frequently referred to as "Forced Fem", or "FF".
4) Guys who truly want to explore their gender issues. They may or may not be transsexuals, but for these guys, this goes deeper than just the clothes – it's about gender identity.
I'm all down with Categories One and Two. Yes, I was hot for Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. Men in garter-belts can be quite sexy. Not something I'd want every single day – that would rob it of its zing. But charming on an occasional basis.
Category Four – well, I certainly support the idea, but facilitating it isn't my area of expertise. A lot of these boys want me to do a "full-transformation" on them, supplying wigs, makeup, and complete outfits. Sorry, I don't have the skills, and it doesn't particularly turn me on, so I don't do it. (A message to all the local aspiring Mistresses: Category Four boys are an underserved market in general. Acquire the equipment and the techniques to make this your specialty, and you'll own this particular demographic.)
It's Category Three clients I'll have nothing to do with. The whole concept pisses me off. It always has, really, although I try to be polite about it when I'm around other pro dommes who do it a lot. But think about it: the idea that I would punish or humiliate a man by making him resemble a woman – like me! - well, I find that incredibly misogynistic.
I get callers telling me they want me to dress them up and "treat them like a woman". Oh, what does that mean, exactly? You want me to pass you over for promotions and pay you less for doing the same job? You want me to deny you birth control options?
(Note: I know exactly what they mean – they mean they want me to fuck them up the ass. But I think if I'm going to dress someone up in stockings and a corset and fuck them, they should take it like a man.)
So am I being too literal about the "forced feminization" thing? Maybe. It's a fantasy, and it's a mistake to equate what we do in fantasy-play with reality. I've done age-play with other grownups, for example, and nobody involved was a real-life child molester. It's a game.
But fuck it – I'm long past the point in my career where I have to indulge people's fantasies even if the fantasy bothers me. And the idea of "punishing" a man by dressing him up in women's clothes definitely irritates me.
The theme for the week, work-wise, has been "Boys In Skirts". Tuesday I had one of my favorite fancy-dressing guys. I'll call him Pretty Boy, and I say that affectionately. PB is a damned handsome man, and he's got a trim, attractive body that looks quite sexy in little numbers from Victoria's Secret. We've been playing for a couple of years now, and I really enjoy him.
Wednesday I had a new client, a cute, lean Brit with a penchant for heavy corporal punishment – yay! – during which he wanted to wear a sheer little thong and stockings and a black satin skirt. "Corporal just feels so much better through satin," he said passionately. We had a delightful time.
"Boys In Skirts Week" will come to an abrupt end today, though. Milo is coming to see me, and he doesn't wear high heels. A good thing, too – he's already six-four or thereabouts. He'd bang his head on my ceiling.
But I actually don't have a whole lot of cross-dresser clients, and that's not an accident. In my observation, there are several distinct categories of (male) clients who want to put on women's clothes. They are:
1) Guys who like it because it's an extra-naughty and forbidden thing to do.
2) Closely related: Guys who like it because women's lingerie is silky and satin-y and it just feels good, tactilely.
3) Guys who are seeking the "erotic humiliation" experience of being "forced" to dress up in women's clothes. For these guys, the mistress cross-dressing them is a punishment, or a demonstration of her cruelty and dominance. Frequently referred to as "Forced Fem", or "FF".
4) Guys who truly want to explore their gender issues. They may or may not be transsexuals, but for these guys, this goes deeper than just the clothes – it's about gender identity.
I'm all down with Categories One and Two. Yes, I was hot for Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. Men in garter-belts can be quite sexy. Not something I'd want every single day – that would rob it of its zing. But charming on an occasional basis.
Category Four – well, I certainly support the idea, but facilitating it isn't my area of expertise. A lot of these boys want me to do a "full-transformation" on them, supplying wigs, makeup, and complete outfits. Sorry, I don't have the skills, and it doesn't particularly turn me on, so I don't do it. (A message to all the local aspiring Mistresses: Category Four boys are an underserved market in general. Acquire the equipment and the techniques to make this your specialty, and you'll own this particular demographic.)
It's Category Three clients I'll have nothing to do with. The whole concept pisses me off. It always has, really, although I try to be polite about it when I'm around other pro dommes who do it a lot. But think about it: the idea that I would punish or humiliate a man by making him resemble a woman – like me! - well, I find that incredibly misogynistic.
I get callers telling me they want me to dress them up and "treat them like a woman". Oh, what does that mean, exactly? You want me to pass you over for promotions and pay you less for doing the same job? You want me to deny you birth control options?
(Note: I know exactly what they mean – they mean they want me to fuck them up the ass. But I think if I'm going to dress someone up in stockings and a corset and fuck them, they should take it like a man.)
So am I being too literal about the "forced feminization" thing? Maybe. It's a fantasy, and it's a mistake to equate what we do in fantasy-play with reality. I've done age-play with other grownups, for example, and nobody involved was a real-life child molester. It's a game.
But fuck it – I'm long past the point in my career where I have to indulge people's fantasies even if the fantasy bothers me. And the idea of "punishing" a man by dressing him up in women's clothes definitely irritates me.
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