A new blog link! My rock-star fabulous pal Lamalani is this year's International Ms Leather. I have known Lama ever since she was just a sweet young butch working at Babeland, and look at her now! I'm very pleased that someone from our community here in Seattle won this contest. Lamalani is a great person, and she'll do a fine job acting as a kinky ambassador to BDSM communities in other cities.

***

While I am in this link-y mood... A quick link-back to some of the Greatest Hits, for easier reading.

The More Recent Ones:

Nazi Play
S/he's A Lady
The Bank Job
Bad Approach
The Bra-Fitter
D/s And Relationships
Must One Bottom Before Topping?
My Wedding Photos
Getting Your Partner Into Kink
Getting Started In Life As A Kinkster
And, my favorite: What Not To Say - The "Puffy" Man.


And, from the dusty vaults: Older Greatest Hits (Hint: Lots of Silly Phone Calls in this list.)

A new podcast, in which Monk and I talk about "name-dropping" versus giving references, and then we say things that will make furries everywhere hate us. (Adult babies, too.) It's a testament to power of good marketing. Or not.

About fifteen minutes, not work safe.

So my blogging has been a bit off this week, as you may have noticed. You see, I've been being topped by Mistress Lateral Epicondylitis. It's the first time I've ever bottomed to her, and whoo, she's a bitch!

In less formal terms: I have had a bad case of tennis elbow. Like, ow. Serious ow. It started in December and it's been bugging me ever since. What brought it on? Who knows. I had a massage therapist work on it at Kinkfest some, and he earnestly informed me it was too much flogging and caning. That's a pretty thought, but I'm inclined to think a lot of time on the keyboard could have something to do with it.

So I've done massage/ice/brace/ibuprofen and still: ow, all the time. So yesterday I said, "I have had enough of this. Okay, Doc, shoot me up." And got a cortisone shot.

It's my hope that I'll soon be able to type again without discomfort, but right now, my arm is a little extra-sore from getting it poked with several needles. (Even though he was very gentle and careful. But yes, all the people I have stuck needles into can chuckle.)

If not, I'm going to have to start doing a lot more photos and podcasts to keep ya'll entertained. And learn to use my left hand to flog people. Anyone want to stunt-model for that?

You know how you go out of town and you forget about all the not-fun stuff you left hanging in your absence? Or is it that somehow, in a not-really-rational part of your brain, you think that little kinky elves will come while you're away and do all those tedious chores? And then you come home and there they are? Yeah. I hate that.

Like what? Like Ikea, that's what. I have a list of household stuff I require, and none of it needs to be spendy, so Ikea it is. (I know, Miss K, I know - you're going to be mad that I didn't take you with me. But I have to go today, and it's going to be just as quick-and-dirty as an Ikea run can be. Pray god the rug-rats aren't out in force on a weekday afternoon.)

Also, I have to find a dress. Oh, Matisse, you say, you have dozens upon dozens of dresses. Why would you possibly need another one?

It's true that I have a ridiculous number of dresses. But this is a very particular kind of dress. It's a going-to-my-brother's-wedding dress.

I said that to my partners, and they both replied, "What, you can't wear one of those Herve dresses?" Typical men. No! Of course not! Good lord, my mother would keel over if I wore one of those skin-tight, bodda-boom, bodda-bing numbers to a family wedding. (Not that I am not seriously lusting for some of the Spring 2009 offerings.)

No, I need something a Nice Southern Girl would wear to a summer wedding in Florida, in May. You may well imagine that I actually don't have a closet full of such ensembles.

And I'm mildly annoyed to see that my darling brother and his (very nice) wife-to-be have scheduled the ceremony for 6pm. Any well-brought-up lady knows that there's a big difference between what you wear to a daytime wedding, and what you wear to an evening wedding, and 6pm awkwardly straddles that divide. Sigh.

I'm unclear on whether the ceremony is being held in a church. But the bride is Italian, so I bet it is. So there's that, too.

Thus: something not black or white, and sort of evening-y but still not too sexy. Sleeveless is fine, perhaps even preferable since it's going to be hot. But nothing strappy or way low-cut, and the skirt should be not terribly tight and at least near my knee. And yet, with all that, not impossibly dowdy.

I could really use those elves or magic fairies right about now.

A new podcast, in which Monk and I answer two reader letters. The first one is from a woman asking us about dealing with a disparity in sexual tastes in a marriage. Then we have a letter from an aspiring pro domme who asks about attitudes towards sex workers in the BDSM community.

(We also swear a lot. I think we were tired or something.)

About fifteen minutes.

No, I haven't run away and joined the circus. I've just been in full-on leather conference mode for the last three days. If you have ever been to one, you know just how all-consuming they can be.

I say "leather conference" out of habit. That's the term I was taught as a young kinkster. What I mean is a BDSM convention. It works like this: a group of people get together, organize a hotel and a conference venue, invite people to teach classes on various kinds of BDSM-related topics, and throw play-parties in the evenings. There's also a vendor space where a bunch of BDSM retailers will come set up booths and sell everything from whips and rope to books and kinky art.

There are some events with variations on that theme, but that's usually how it looks. So typically one would arrive Friday afternoon, register and mill around in the vendor/social space, and sometimes attend some type of welcoming ceremonies, where the workshop presenters will be introduced to the crowd and some "we'd like to thank..." speeches are made.

The next two days, you spend the days attending classes in whatever topics interest you, and shopping or socializing. Sometimes there are organized dinners, sometimes not. At night, you go to the play-parties.

I used to go to two or three leather cons a year, but the last few years I'm a bit less motivated to do that. They are fun, but the travel is a hassle and certainly not inexpensive. And the thing about cons that's both good and bad is that they are like an alternate universe, and one tends to get completely immersed in the social system of them while one is there - to the utter neglect of the rest of the world. Which leads to some "oh, shit" moments on Sunday night when you realize you've let a ton of stuff slide and tomorrow is Monday!

Still, for some people, it's the only time they do get to immerse themselves in a kinky environment. I'm fortunate enough to get to live that way most of my life.

Anyway, I'll post some stories about various things I saw and did over the next few days, and yes, I am going to publish your responses to last week's letter, too! Today I'm driving back to Seattle to re-join my normal kinky life, which I'm actually pleased to say is already in progress.

The new Stranger column, in which I discuss mean dirty talk. As opposed to nice dirty talk. Enjoy it while I get ready to zoom off to Portland!

Answer My Mail

Okay, so if you've been reading me a while, you know that on a regular basis, I publish some annoying email I have gotten and make a lot of snarky comments about it.

And you have probably figured out that I'm often quite annoyed by what I call intellectual laziness. It's rather a hot-spot of mine.

But apparently a lot of people don't know this about me. Otherwise, why would they send me such annoying emails? Like this one, which I received from someone whose email address includes the word mistress, from which I infer the writer is female. Here it is, unedited and in its entirety:

Hi there I read your site its great and would like to kno more. i am new to all this

I have no idea which site of mine she has read. Somehow I doubt she's read any site of mine very thoroughly, because otherwise she'd kno that I am unlikely to look favorably upon such an email.

She doesn't say what, exactly, she's new to. Reading? Googling? No, perhaps it's spelling. How about this: know is spelled with a w.

There, now you've learned something.

Although, I suppose... She's not precisely asking a question, is she? She's simply saying she'd like to know - excuse me, kno - more. Hell, I'd like to know more myself, just in a general way. Like, when is the stock market going to recover? How many calories are really in this order of take-out chicken teriyaki? What is my cat thinking when she stares at me like that?

But she didn't exactly ask me to tell her. Perhaps my hasty presumption is unjust. We all have our emotional hair-triggers. Maybe I should check my responses about this.

So you tell me, faithful readers. God knows you've heard me rant about this often enough. How about I give you a chance? Answer this email for me. Write me the reply you think this gal should get, and I'll post it. Be kind, be blisteringly cruel, be anything you want. Send it along to me and I'll post them on Friday. We'll see how you think this email should be handled.

Let's see, I have a bunch of notes about different things.

There's a new episode of Family...

Classical music fans will enjoy it.

***

Also, I know I twittered about it already, but Alien Trespass was great, and you should all go see it when it opens! Yes, I admit, a dear friend of mine is involved with it, so this is naked propaganda. But I'm quite fond of him and pleased for his success with this, and I'm doing what I can about it. Plus it really is just a delightfully fun movie.

Side note: there's an actress in the movie who so reminded me of a pal of mine, local diva Miss Indigo Blue, that when she came on-screen, I had to look sharply for a moment to be certain that it wasn't actually her! It's the character named "Lana", if you see the film - both her look and her manner are very Indigo Blue-ish.

***

In other film-y notes, I'll be attending this event Tuesday night: the Seattle launch of the arts and culture site The Rumpus, with a screening of the horror film Pig Hunt. (At least, I think I am. I like shoot-'em-up movies, but sometimes I am not so fond of gory horror movies. But I'm going to go prefunk at least, and I'm sure it'll be a cool event overall.)

***

Congratulations again to my pal Lamalani, who just won the International Ms Leather Contest!

***

And speaking of leather events, I am going to Portland for Kinkfest this weekend. So I'm out of town Friday March 27th through Monday the 30th. It should be a very kinky good time for all...

A fresh podcast! Monk and I found a new sound guy - our old one left town - which is great, because neither of us want to deal with recording and then cooking these files.

I fear he may be too good at his job, though. I was wearing a crinkly down jacket while we recorded this (those studios are always freezing), and you can clearly hear me rustling as I shift in my chair during this podcast. Whoops.

Or maybe I was simply dressed inappropriately. A fashion faux-pas, how embarrassing!

But anyway: in this one, Monk and I read and answer a letter from a woman dealing with jealousy in a polyamorous relationship. Also, Monk makes reference to "going nuclear." We don't mean actual bombs, he's using an analogy explained in this column.

Bye!

So in the wake of yesterday's post someone - who shall remain nameless - sent me a teasing email about how, oh, did I need a power tool to deliver a serious fucking?

And the answer is no. I don't.



Click me, baby, and I'll get bigger. Much, much bigger. And I'll stay that way as long as I want. Someone is going to get reminded of that really soon.

A number of alert readers sent me links to some version of this story. Yowch!

I posted a little over a year ago about how I do indeed have a reciprocating saw with a dildo on it - a "Fuckzall," as they are called. (I think Monk has it, actually. I loaned it to him to use on some lucky girl, who did not wind up in the hospital.)



That poor woman! I'm glad she's recovering, but sweet Jesus, people: take the blade off! That's a good place to start, right there!

Then there's a special attachment you can buy to put the dildo on. I would not advise trying to DIY on this one, kids. Seriously.

Good lord. Some people should really just stick to deerskin mini-floggers.

Okay, so I have just dropped a ton of money on this remodel - more money than I have ever spent on any one thing in my entire life. More than the down payment on the damn house itself! Noooo, I'm not even mildly flipped out by that, why do you ask? It's not like investing in real estate is ever a bad idea, right? (Don't answer that.)

And even if I hadn't just done that, this simply does not seem like the time to go running up my credit card balance. I'm still as busy as I've ever been, but hey, I read the papers. (Even though today is the last day for my paper of choice, wah!) I have definitely made my contribution towards propping up the economy - some fiscal prudence seems the best idea right now.

But still. I am made of girlish flesh and blood, and this dress might be more than a mortal woman can live without.

Monk and I had a drink Saturday night with a pal of mine, a lovely woman who is a very successful courtesan. With her was a man whom she introduced as “her dearest friend”. (Parse that as you will, I don't assign labels to people that they don't use themselves.)

Regardless of his job title, he was charming, and I was pleased to see her with such an obviously affectionate companion. But her purpose in bringing him to meet us was not purely social. You see, this man wishes to be a male escort for women.

(We may need to coin a new term for this. Mescort? Mantesan? Those don’t please me, but something.)

Now, up until eighteen months ago I would have said that such a wish was futile. Women, I opined, simply did not hire sex workers the way men do. I have stated this view several times, in print.

Turns out I wasn’t entirely correct. You see, Monk has been doing a small but steady sideline business in professional dominance/escorting for female clients for about a year and a half now.

Note the keyword: sideline. TwistedMonk rope is the main event for Monk, professionally. If he relied upon sex work for his entire living, it would be a somewhat slender living. But still, he’s been far busier than I imagined possible. He says it’s due to my mentorship, which I think gives me far too much credit. But I have been pleased to offer him advice, suggestions and support.

Now I see that this friend of mine is doing the same for her constant companion, albeit from a less pro-domme-y, more courtesan-ish point of view. So they asked Monk a few questions, and we had an interesting conversation about it. In sum: in contrast to women, there is no established network for male sex workers for women to plug into. There is no acknowledged central place where potential clients gather, online or in real life, where a male sex worker can just show up and say “Hi, I’m available. Call me.” None that any of us know of, anyway, and between this other girl and I, we know a lot. Monk has had to invest a lot of time and do a lot of footwork to create his relationships with the women who see him professionally, and this man will have to do the same.

But as we drove home afterward, I amused myself speculating about exactly how - just hypothetically - one might create such a network for would-be female clients. The bare-bones arrangements of Craigslist, etc is sufficient for men. But women, I thought, would need something more personal.

“Well, they have escort review boards, don’t they?” said Monk.

“Yes, but still, I don’t think that’s right somehow.” I snapped my fingers. “Got it. You’d have to have a site written by just one woman who reviewed guys. Like a restaurant reviewer. That way, it’s personal. You develop a relationship with the writer, and thus you trust her and her take on the guys.”

“A male escort review blog? That could be cool, but I think you’d need at least two women reviewing. Like Siskel and Ebert. That way you get a more balanced opinion.”

I drummed my fingers on my chin. “Yeah, that’s a good point. Let’s see, who could do it well? They’d have to be a pair of smart, sexy women friends, and they’d have to be good writers, and they’d have to be comfortable thinking about sex and writing about sexual experiences.” We sat in silence for a moment, and then turned our heads towards each other and said simultaneously, “Hannah and Sparkles!”

Now, I don’t think for one instant that Hannah and Sparkles, whose names I am taking in vain so casually, are really going to do this. Not at all. I'm just kidding them by saying so. But Monk and I thought that if they did do it, they’d be great at it. And they know all the reasons why.

However, I think someone should do it. One male sex worker is an exception, but two is a trend. Women are different from men sexually (thank you, Mistress Obvious), and that means that the whole system will look and function differently from how male client/female sex worker systems function. But I am beginning to think that if a system existed, more clients would pop up to participate in it.

It would not take up a great deal of time in a woman’s life right now, because the field of potential male escorts is still rather small. But I have a hunch that’s going to change. And in a female-dominated industry, a guy who wants to be successful will need all the help and advice from women he can get.

Open To Suggestions

I was talking to Monk last night about the whole 12 second video thing. He and I have both been saying for a while that we'd like to incorporate more video clips into our content. But somehow, we're just not feeling clear about what that would look like.

I'm never going to go all-video, all-the-time. I'm a writer. But the 12 second format attracted me because I thought, "Okay, 12 seconds - I could just do that from the phone cam and accept that it would be low-rez and unpolished."

Thus, I walk around in the world thinking "Well, I could video this. But no, this is boring. I have to wait for something interesting to happen." And then something interesting happens, and I'm busy doing it, and I don't video it. Sigh.

And it can't be anything pornographic, anyway. I would definitely not video any of my sessions - even the parts without anyone naked - unless someone begged and pleaded for me to do so, and even then I'd be hesitant. You put something on the internet, and you lose control of it. I'd have to be really sure someone was one-thousand-percent all right with that before I did any such thing.

I thought: Maybe I need a theme, to kinda get me started with this. For example, I could go through my toy cabinet, and show you, one by one, my different toys. It would take a while, believe me.

And then it occurred to me - I could just ask you. Since you're the people who are going to be watching it, after all. So tell me, what would you like to watch 12 seconds of?

Remember, this is via phone cam, so think low resolution and bad light. And since I'll be holding the camera, it's going to hard to get to see me doing much of anything. It's more like: what do I see that you'd like to see?

(Note to the clueless: no, you don't get to watch me do anything sexual. That is so not going to happen.)

I look forward to some inspirational emails.

Here's the new Stranger column.

Now I'm off into a busy day of errands and shopping, and then some spa time at Banya 5. Bye!

The newest installment of the web series about a polyamorous triad, Family.

I was pleased to see that they got some good press in the Seattle Times. Nice when art overlaps with activism. Enjoy...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Over the years, I’ve gotten used to some wild swings in my activities and surroundings. This weekend was one for the books, though. On Friday night, Armani and I had a very luxurious and decadent day and night at a local resort, with 90-minute massages, Chateaubriand, a hot tub, lots of wine - and lots of other things.

Saturday morning we woke up to snow – quite a lot of that, too. Now, I don’t know what it is, but it seems like whenever Armani and I leave town for a getaway, some dramatic weather-related thing happens. Like the ferry ride that we took in the windstorm of ‘07 – yeah, that ferry! Just our luck, we seem to stir up Mother Nature.

But Armani is a talented man, and he got us down off the mountain and delivered me home at noon. Whereupon I discovered that the cleaning people I had engaged – the highly trained team of professionals who were going to remove the heavy layer of nasty post-construction dust that was coating every single surface and every single object in my whole house – were not coming. At all.

So I was looking at a busy week starting Monday, with lots of people coming to see me, and a very filthy house. So guess what I was doing for nine hours alone on Saturday and for another four, with Monk, Sunday? Yeah. I looked like a chimney sweep on Saturday, only grayish-white instead of black.

People did offer to help me Saturday, but I’m hard to help sometimes. Certain types of things I can easily give clear directions about, but some things – well, I know how I want it done, but the effort of conceptualizing and then clearly communicating exactly what to do and why to do it that way? Oh, I’d honestly just rather do it myself. Unwillingness to delegate - it's a failing of mine. Control issues, me? Why would you ever think such a thing?

If the team had come, I would given them the keys and walked away - and then come back later and re-done whatever they didn’t do right. But directing another person, moment-by-moment for hours, in a huge and vaguely defined task, that’s actually composed of ten thousand tiny little tasks? Oh, no. As exhausting as it was to do alone, I would have been twice as stressed trying to do it and simultaneously manage someone else.

So Monk came on Sunday, when I had a clear and specific list of things I needed him to do, and that’s just exactly perfect. This is why I don’t have “apprentices” - and what a silly term that is - or personal slaves. I do not enjoy labor management - even the labor of people I’m very fond of.

I'm off today on a little overnight retreat with Armani. We're going to a secret location to have some spa time - hot stone massage, mmmm... And then a decadent dinner together. A lovely mini-vacation.

And - I'm not taking the laptop. I know! Shocking! 24 hours without a computer, me? That never happens. I'll have the B'berry, so I won't be totally cold turkey. But still, it's a slightly edgy choice.

I'll be back Saturday afternoon, whereupon I will immediately get started unpacking the dungeon and getting things ready for Monday, when the grand unveiling of the remodeled space will begin.

Not a minute too soon, either. This has been a rather stressful time for me. My space - emphasis on the my - is important to me, and having it all in turmoil and unavailable to me has been... Well, it's worked out okay, but I've had to expend a fair amount of energy to make it work out okay, if you know what I mean. My dear close pals have been extremely helpful and accommodating about this whole process. I get by with a little help from my friends.

So if I owe you emails/phone calls, please bear with me for the next few days, as I get my normal routine and surroundings, that I am so very fond of, back online after a month of construction.

I myself often look at random people and try to imagine what they'd look like naked. Sometimes I do so while waiting in line at the bank or the dry cleaners, just to pass the time. I also do it with people I know are soon going to be naked in front of me, and then when they are, see how accurate my mental image was.

If you'd like to hone your skill at this, I have a website for you: http://www.naked-people.de/ It's all in German, so I have no idea what the text says. But click enter, and then click on the picture of the clothed person, and presto, their clothes melt away.

Maybe someone who speaks both German and English fluently will tell me what the heck this site is saying about itself. (I get a lot of letters from non-English-speaking people who have obviously used online-translators, and it's almost impossible to understand what they are saying, so I'm not even going that route.)

But these are obviously regular people - not professional models or porn performers - all ages, shapes and genders. Perhaps this is some sort of statement about showing us what non-model people look like nude? Or maybe it's just someone saying, "Hey! Check it out, I got all these people to take off all their clothes for me!"

Hat Tip to Gander!

EDIT: I have had a lot of very cool people send me translations of the site text. It says:

"Clothes are your second skin. They cover, they reveal, they are able to express what we feel inside or, on the contrary, hide it. Clothes can enable us to show what we work as, what our social standing/class is or they express our emotional state. A suit may lead us to peg someone as being a banker, an office worker or an insurance salesman, etc. In our society, this is a characteristic of "being serious".
But to what extent is this judgement correct? Can we blindly trust the shell? What is really underneath it? Can the illusion be shattered if a tattoo is revealed underneath the suit or does the person remain inscrutable? Here, you have the possibility of experiencing the different effects a clothed or naked person make on you.
If you are interested in participating in this art project as a model, please write me an email. If you want to sponsor the project by donating, you can do so by pushing the PayPal button."

Thanks to German speakers Anna, Nina, Nils, Lu, MK, Kari, Tom, Art, Lief, Aviva, and two nice people who didn't sign a name, for translating it for me!

Literary Masochism

I recently finished the Dan Simmons novel, Drood. And that is no mean feat, my friends, even for a devoted (and fast) reader like myself. It's 785 pages. I browsed it in a bookshop, weighed it in my hand, and thought, I'm not sure if I should read this or use it as a boat anchor. Thank god for my Kindle, tamer of bursitis-inducing tomes.

Here's how the New Yorker describes Drood.

"In this creepy intertextual tale of professional jealousy and possible madness, Wilkie Collins tells of his friendship and rivalry with Charles Dickens, and of the mysterious phantasm named Edwin Drood, who pursues them both. Drood, cadaverous and pale, first appears at the scene of a railway accident in which Dickens was one of the few survivors; later, Dickens and Collins descend into London's sewer in search of his lair. Meanwhile, a retired police detective warns Collins that Drood is responsible for more than three hundred murders, and that he will destroy Dickens in his quest for immortality. Collins is peevish, vain, and cruel, and the most unreliable of narrators: an opium addict, prone to nightmarish visions. The narrative is overlong, with discarded subplots and red herrings, but Simmons, a master of otherworldly suspense, cleverly explores envy's corrosive effects."

Now, I like history, so Simmons's meanderings into historical trivia about London and Dickens did not bother me overmuch. Simmons clearly indulged himself with the length of this novel, and of course, it suits the period he's writing about.

And I agree, it's a very deftly done portrait of seeming friendship being poisoned by envy. The Wilkie Collins that Simmons portrays is sympathetic - at first. The bombastic Dickens, who was indeed the literary rock star of his time, is pretty condescending to Collins, and you feel both his anger and his impotence over it.

But then, as you get to know him, Simmons shows you that his Collins is actually a nasty piece of work. And then the story shifts from being mostly about the petty slights and insults that two dear friends can inflict upon each other, and takes a turn into a very Collins-esque sort of horror.

So, yes, it could have been cut down quite a bit. But I enjoyed getting to know all the vile twists and turns of this fictional Wilkie Collins. Makes me want to re-read The Woman in White.

I had an email exchange with someone lately that reminded me, for one thing, how happy I am that I don’t have to see anyone new unless I think we’re really well-suited to each other. Because this man and I were clearly not a good match.

Essentially, he wanted to do a boxing/punching scene in which I punched him, in the face and head, until he went unconscious. (He would not fight back.) His exact phrase was “The session ends when I am knocked out, or just can't get up.”

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this as a fantasy. Chester French videos aside, this kind of masochism isn’t as sexualized as often as, say, spanking. But there are men around who like it, and I know of women who do it. Still, it’s not my specialty, and so I do not have vast experience doing boxing and punching.

Thus my response was that I was willing to discuss a scene where I hit him, but I was definitely not willing to beat him unconscious. That is not a safe thing to do. Frankly, I’m not sure that I would feel comfortable punching someone in the face, period. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, given that I do other painful things to people. From what I have seen, one generally wears boxing gloves for scenes like this. And people box and get hit in the face every day. But still, I have no training in how to hit someone in face, and even if I did it lightly, it just seems like a really easy way to damage someone. And my personal limit is that I will hurt you, in ways you consent to, but I will not consent to damage you.

There’s a big difference, to me. Pain = sensation in the moment. Or at least something that’s short-term and that will heal. A bruised butt is painful in the making and sore for a while afterwards, but it’s not damage. I define damage as: a permanent change to your body that impairs normal function and/or causes ongoing emotional distress. A big scar that you didn’t want, for example, is damage, even if it doesn’t impair your functioning.

So in the course of my response to him, I said, “Any scene with me ends when I say it does.” Meaning, I wasn’t going to keep hitting him if I judged it to be a bad idea. Even if he wanted me to.

Well, he didn’t want me to have that limit. So, he and I are not going to meet. It’s funny, when people talk about consent in BDSM, they always talk about bottoms getting pushed past their personal limits. You don’t hear as much about a bottom trying to make a top hurt him/her beyond the top’s boundaries. However, my right to safeword out of a scene is just as valid as a bottom’s. Consent has to be present on both sides. The minute that's not there, what you’re doing is no longer anything I consider healthy BDSM. So I think we’ll call this negotiation a Technical Knock-Out.

Another podcast: Monk and I speculate about Jews and kink, and then Monk explains the story of how he got into kink and became a rope-maker. Also briefly mentioned is my ability to shoot laser beams from my eyes. Enjoy!

A new column in The Stranger. Not for the easily squicked. Hardy souls, enjoy!

So, I'm flying to Las Vegas today with the ever-rockin' Elvis. I think we're going to have much fun, and I'll be Twittering and Flickering and perhaps even 12second-videoing, so stay tuned to all that.

I'll be there until Saturday, so I'll be around for next week. I will return messages as soon as I can. As always, email is best.

***

Speaking of video, I found this via The Rumpus: Jay Smooth of Ill Doctrine:



I think it's very cool. Obviously, it's about how to call someone on racist behavior. But actually, it's excellent advice for talking to anyone about any kind of unacceptable behavior. He makes excellent points about staying focused on "this is what you did" and not getting sucked into the losing strategy of "this is what you are."

I also love "No Homo."

So, I have been digitally acquainted with San Francisco writer and editor Stephen Elliot for a while. He's the editor of the online arts and culture magazine "The Rumpus", in which Monk was profiled not long ago. And soon I will get to make his acquaintance in person, because Stephen has a cool event happening here in Seattle in March. Read all about it!

Tuesday, March 24, The Rumpus, in association with Northwest Film Forum, presents PIG HUNT.

"Perhaps the finest horror film to have been made this year," according to Eye For Film. PIG HUNT is the tale of a Guy's Weekend of hunting gone wrong in the backwoods of Northern California, set amidst the chaos of marijuana, meth, rednecks, and a killer cult that worships a legendary 3,000 pound wild boar called "The Ripper."

Join us for the Seattle launch of The Rumpus, and the first Seattle screening of Pighunt.

Hosted by author and editor of The Rumpus, Stephen Elliott. Rumpus contributor Ryan Boudinot will give a reading before the film and director Jim Isaac and writer/producer Robert Mailer Anderson will answer questions following the screening. The party will continue across the street at the Vermillion art gallery.

6 p.m. Happy Hour at Vermilion, 1508 11th Ave.

7 p.m. Screening of "Pig Hunt," preceded by a short reading by Ryan Boudinot, at Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave, Seattle. Following the film, director Jim Isaac and writer producer Robert Mailer Anderson will take questions.

9:30 p.m. Post-screening party at Vermillion

Get tickets online at Brown Paper Tickets.

Episode #8 in the Seattle-produced web-series about polyamory, "Family". It's Part II of the "Meet The Parents" espisode!

A clever reader sent me this letter...

I think I can claim to have read all your blog archives, and would never presume to advise you about topics to bring up (waaaait for it!), I did want to ask you, though, if you had seen the film Holy Smoke, by Jane Campion and if you'd ever thought about podcasting/blogging about the amazing exploration of power exchange that goes on between its two main characters. Aside from the explicit message about coming into your power and learning not to abuse it, the script deftly demonstrates how fun it can be when "who's on top" is continually renegotiated, how physically overpowering someone isn't necessarily as effective as verbally cutting to the quick (Harvey Keitel to Kate Winslet: "Your physical superiority makes you unkind"), and how knowing one's own boundaries is always of utmost importance. Oh! And don't let me forget pissing as an act of submission! Just such a great film for every kind of kink - even if your kink is no kink.

Darlin', I think you did just blog about it!

And yes, I have seen the film. I thought it was well-acted, well-written, and occasionally hilarious (like the scene where the shallow flirtatious mother allows her cavorting child to do a face-plant into the dirt because she's preening for an indifferent man.) It has some hot, sexy moments, and it's generally very intense and gripping.

(Question: does Harvey Keitel demand a frontal nude scene in every role he takes? Not that I object, I'm just wondering.)

Like pretty much every movie I've ever seen that explores kink themes, I would not point to these characters and say, "Here are some great dominant/submissive role models!" No. Keitel and Winslet are playing flawed and damaged people, and a lot of the way they interact is far from emotionally healthy.

But still, it's a good movie even for the non-kinky, and I know that BDSM people will appreciate the themes woven into it. Consider it recommended!

Complete and unedited email...

Hi Mistress my name is slave X.Hi ave this fantasy from a long time to get a permanent damage in a cbt torture session from a bieutifull goddess like you .My offer is this i live in canada montreal to be more presice my offer is this i can send you a first class airplane tickets plus all your expense pay with hotel food and avery thing you need and i will pay you 10000 in canadian dollars for a 2 hours session of cbt , face kicking ,busting and body and head trample .this is a serious offer if your intresting or if its not enough money lets me no your price is my price tank you for your time slave X.sorry for my english im french and im learning

Wow, this is rather painful to read. But I give him credit where it’s due: his English is better than my French. And I have certainly heard from native English speakers who write just as badly as this.

So I am going to try, for a moment, to assume that his mistakes are in words rather than intent. The fact that he’s trying to negotiate a heavy BDSM scene in a language he doesn’t speak well is a mistake in itself, though. BDSM is a thing you want to be able to negotiate very precisely. That way, you ask NOT to get “permanent damage”.

Also – face kicking? That’s one I hadn’t heard. Unless we’re talking tiny foot-taps, that sounds like a bad idea.

Now let’s talk about that ten thousand dollars. Only we can’t, because it doesn’t exist. This is where my kind assumption that the oddities of this email are language-based break down. Either this man mistakenly tapped in one too many zeros, or – and frankly I think this is more likely – the whole thing is a crazy wanker fantasy.

What makes it crazy? To me, seriously asking for permanent damage = crazy. And also because no sane person is going to pay me five thousand dollars an hour. I’m good, but honey, ain’t nobody that good. Permanent damage? I’d have to kill you, and then raise you from the dead, to warrant that kind of tab.

There is an extremely small chance that the writer of this email, while crazy, does indeed have ten thousand dollars which he’d give me if I got in the room with him and tried to do him permanent damage. But that’s an extremely, extremely small chance indeed.

And you know what? I still wouldn’t do it. Because I don’t deal with crazy people, no matter how much money they offer me. I don't permanently damage people, either.

I get emails like this all the time. Most sex workers do. If you’re a woman who’s new to the industry, take note: If a stranger offers you a unreasonably huge sum of money for what sounds like very little in return, 99.9% of the time, you won’t get it. Chances are you’ll wind up having wasted time and energy chasing it, and sometimes even spent money of your own trying to make the date happen. (“Oh, I’m transferring funds from overseas and they got held up, can you get your own plane ticket and I’ll reimburse you….” Just like the Nigerian scams, only different.)

Note: I am not speaking of getting gifts from someone you know. I have been the fortunate recipient of some incredibly generous gifts from people I had relationships with, and I know other women who have as well. So yes, that happens. But not from a total stranger.

I suppose somewhere in the world, there have been a few Indecent Proposal-type scenarios that were real, but I have never seen one come true. Ever. (And look at all the drama Demi Moore went through with that, anyway.) The writers are either crazy people, or it’s someone deliberately playing games with a carrot on a stick.

It’s a fantasy to have a stranger appear and offer you a large sum of cash. But remember all those children’s stories about magical creatures who offer ordinary people three wishes, or a genie in a bottle? But somehow those wishes, those magic powers, they never turned out like the user wanted, did they? There was always a trick or a sting in them. The lesson of those stories was: if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. So beware the modern-day version of trolls under a bridge.

First off, thank you to all the nice people who sent me that small avalanche of "happy blog-anniversary" emails yesterday. That was very sweet.

Here's another podcast from me and Monk. Sometimes we have letters to answer, or a specific topic to address, but on this one we got off into a discussion about fashion. Thus, it's a rarity: a podcast that actually contains no sex-with-lawn-gnomes jokes, and seems to be pretty safe for work. (Although I have no idea if anyone really listens to me at work. I mean, aren't you supposed to be working? I have never had an office job in my life, so that whole world is very strange and mysterious to me.)

Anyway, listen to us chat about style icons, rubber dresses, kilts, kimonos, and schoolgirl outfits.

A milestone: as of yesterday, I have been blogging for five years.

Five years. That feels like a long time. I had no idea, when I started, that this blog would become such a defining part of Mistress Matisse. But it has. I have often wondered what would have happened if I’d started blogging anonymously. Would I have as many readers? Would I have been outed by now, or would I have been able to remain a mystery? And what would I have said, and not said, differently? I’ll never know.

I’ve been writing for The Stranger for about eight years, and between that column and this, I have a lot of words out there in the world. (Plus there’s the podcasts, and a few video clips here and there.) There are good sides and bad sides to that. If you want to get to know me, there’s a lot of information available. If you’re wondering about an issue that might fall under my umbrella of expertise, search around a bit, chances are I’ve talked about it.

Or, if you want something to be offended about, you can just cherry-pick through the archives, and I’m sure you can find something I’ve said that you think is reprehensible. I actually don’t subscribe to the idea that “if you don’t piss people off, you aren’t doing it right.” But as even-handed as I think I’m being, some people seem determined to be offended. Which I find baffling… but hey, if that’s what you get off on, enjoy yourselves. I have weird hobbies too.

I admit that some days I think, “Oh god, I have to blog. I don’t want to, I have nothing to say, I don't feel like writing... but I have to put something up.” My relationship with this blog is sometimes a bit like the one Seymour had with his blood-sucking alien plant in Little Shop of Horrors. It’s brought me a lot of great things – and great people – but it does suck up a lot of my personal juice.

But over the years, I’ve learned to worry less about it – I don’t check my hit counts every day, like I once did, or obsess about Technocrati ranks. Internet fame is an ephemeral thing. If you try to hang your hat on it, you’ll just make yourself crazy. As a blogger, I’ve learned a lot about just doing the best I can, and being gentle with myself for not always doing moremoreMORE.

Having the Twitter feed does makes me a feel a bit less derelict in my duty when I play hooky. It also allows me to have some back-and-forth with people, without having the flood of comment-spam and hate-bombers that the comment feature unfortunately devolved into. I’m interested in doing more podcasting, too, and I’m also intrigued by this application, as brought to my attention by the clever Violet Blue: 12seconds video. So you may be seeing some of that in the near future…

It’s hard to know how this blog will end. Perhaps fashions in internet communications will evolve and render blogs obsolete. Or maybe I’ll just wake up one day and realize I’m done with it. But for now, I’m still here. We’ll see what the next five years brings.

The new Stranger column is up: Fluid Sex. Enjoy!

Today I come home from Portland and see just what sort of remodeling activity has been going on in my house while I've been away. My contractor assures me all is well, but still, color me slightly nervous.

Meanwhile, enjoy the newest episode of the web-series about a polyamorous triad, Family. Warning: there's a sex scene with a full-frontal naked guy, and it's quite charming, but probably not something to watch at work.

Am I Or Not?

Cool reader Trix recently alerted me to the fact that I was quoted in this book: Yes Means Yes! Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape. Sexy blogger/author/editor Rachel Kramer Bussell wrote an essay entitled: "Beyond Yes or No: Consent as Sexual Process" in which she talks about consent as an ongoing activity.

The quote is from a Stranger column I wrote called "The A Word", which can be read in all it's ranty glory here.

This is what RKB said...

"It benefits both halves of a couple (or coupling) to know what the other is into.... As dominatrix and sex columnist Mistress Matisse wrote in The Stranger, "Some of the pleasure I take in kink is the continual seduction of consent. I love the fact that I can get my partners to let me to do things to them that they never thought they'd let anyone do--and better yet, I can make them like it. That's hot."

So I bought a copy, naturally, and yep, there I am. I'm flattered and pleased, of course. But it's sort of strange to see myself referenced in a feminist anthology. Not bad, just... strange.

People ask me, "Are you a feminist?" And I usually say something like, "Do you think I am?"

Sometimes they say, "Oh yes, definitely!"

And I smile and say "All right then, I am."

Sometimes they say "No! Women like you are antithetical to feminism."

And I shrug and say, "Then we don't have anything else to talk about, do we?"

Because I'm just not going to play that game. When I was a very young woman, I did a lot of college-based political activism. Mainly pro-choice stuff, and some GLBT issues, and then later, AIDS activism. I called myself a feminist, and I encountered other women who also called themselves feminists.

Now, no one woman - or any group of women - have sole ownership of that word. I know that. But at that time in my life, when the Feminist Sex Wars were still being fought in many circles, I met a lot of feminist-identified women who acted as if they did. And the very clear message I got from them was that I was wrong. The way I looked was wrong, the books I read, the kind of music I listened to - but most of all, the kind of sex I liked. My whole sex life was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I spent some time trying to reconcile who I felt I was with the message I was getting from those women. But I wasn't able to do that, so I walked away from the movement.

I still support the same values and causes I always did: equal pay, the right to an abortion, ect. But I decided not to devote time, money and energy to advancing the broader political philosophies of people who didn't accept me and my choices. You might say that I fight in some battles, but I decline to re-enlist in the army.

Yes, I know about the sex-positive feminist movement. I think the women who identify themselves as such are great people. But to me, if I have to qualify myself to say I belong to your club, then I don't want in. Take me as I am, or not at all.

I am not saying that I don't support feminists. I do. If you think I'm a feminist and wish to call me so, I'm fine with that. If you are a feminist, I'm happy to be quoted in support of whatever you're saying.

But if you're someone who thinks a woman like me - kinky, sex-working, high-heel-wearing me - can't possibly be part of your feminist movement... Then you're right. I'm not.

I’m Too…Something

I'm off today on a trip today, which should be delightful. I'm back Wednesday.

Meanwhile, a little something from the mailbag....

***

From an email:

Sorry. You just advertise yourself too much. I think the perfect one for you is the one you love the most. That is you. I'm not a mean person but if you are actually a woman. You are actually all that you advertise and because if so you are truly beautiful. But come on. Aren't you overdoing it just a little bit?

This letter doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, and it makes me think the writer doesn’t actually understand the nature of who I am and what I do. You don’t see too many dominatrixes openly displaying bad self-esteem. What would that look like in a scene? “Well, I’m not very pretty, am I? And I have no clue what to do with you. I guess maybe I could hit you with this thing.” Whack, whack. "I know you don't really like me, do you?" Whack, whack.

That seems like a bad idea.

Am I overdoing it? Have I conquered the entire world and been crowned Empress Of All She Surveys? No? Then no, I’m not overdoing it. Since that’s the long-term goal.

I think he’s also subtly accusing me of being transsexual. Maybe because I’m not demonstrating a properly shy and retiring feminine nature.

But it’s nice that he’s "not a mean person" - even if he has written me this letter offering me his confusing and unsolicited criticism, and suggested that I’m perpetrating a fraud about my stated gender.

He got one thing right, though, and that is: yes, I do love myself. I think that’s the trait in me that most often annoys people who don’t.

Oh, This Is Lame!

I got an email from Terisa Greenan, the creator of the polyamory-themed web series "Family" that I've been linking to.

"Ernie Joseph, who plays Ben on our Web series “Family,” recently shot a commercial for the Australian olive oil company OliVaylle. The commercial was created by Mulberry Street advertising firm and produced by Black Squirrel Productions in Seattle. Ernie was excited about this new opportunity because he was told by the producers that he was likely going to be the new face of the brand, and that there could be a series of commercials featuring him to be produced in the future. Then, suddenly, the plug was pulled on his new advertising gig and the commercial Ernie shot was actually re-shot with a different actor. Producers told Ernie that the owner’s of OliVaylle had received links to “Family” and because of the nature of the show, no longer wanted Ernie to represent them."

Read more about it here. This stinks on ice. He's an actor, for God's sake. It's bad enough to discriminate against people who actually are polyamorous. This guy got shafted for just playing one on TV, as it were.

I don't usually re-post these sorts of things.... But this is so beautiful. The music is great, the photos are moving. It's such a perfect expression of this very important human rights issue.

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

Letter From A Reader

Dear Matisse,

Firstly, thank you for your entertaining and informative blog. I have been enjoying it for several years now. I understand your time is valuable, and appreciate that. As a potential contribution, perhaps you can get another entry, or Stranger column out of this...and hopefully it won't be a 'bad' one!

I am seriously looking at becoming an escort, and have read some of your advice over the years, and am having some trouble locating (and don't recall you writing about it...which, of course, does not mean that you didn't write about it) info on how to tell if an escort service listing for women is legit, and not, well, the fuzz.

I remember your other tips, thank you. I was hoping you may have some tips on this. For example, there was an ad on Craigslist for women, and I have been corresponding with the woman who runs this operation. I have asked questions regarding safety, attire, fees, payment, etc. and am wondering if it is 'normal' to have the woman host, even if the gentlemen are from out of town & are likely staying in a hotel on business already. Do you know and/or have input on this, please?

So far, everything seems on the up & up, so to speak. She runs her business through referrals only from her trusted clients (or so she says). She did make one mention of "if you could seduce and completely pamper someone you have never met before". I am really looking to protect myself. Would it be better to locate one online & "apply" there?

Oh, what a charming reader. See, I am not immune to flattery, and I appreciate the acknowledgment of my needs. I like this person already.

So, Dear Reader, because you seem very nice, I am going to give you some advice on this, somewhat against my better judgment. I fear that in the wake of this, I am probably get a slew of “How do I do so-and-so and not get arrested?” I don’t answer those questions because I am not an attorney. Telling people how to break the law and not get caught is not the focus of this blog.

But I am going to give you some general tips, and here’s what I want from you in return. I want you to take some of the money you earn as an escort, and go very soon to consult an attorney in your area. Pay her/him to tell you about the law. That is just the smart thing to do. So be smart.

Also, go read this site, and watch the videos. These girls are far more current in the escort game than I am. And make a donation, too.

Here’s a book to start you off. There are actually tons of how-to-be-an-escort books around. In my opinion you should read them all, but you must at least read a few.

And read The Gift Of Fear.

Now, a few simple, not-legal-advice remarks.

Basic Rule: Don’t discuss anything illegal when you talk to your (potential) agency. I mean it. Do not talk about sex. Talk about your time and attention - that’s what you are selling. There are some buzz words you can use – “pamper” is fine. I personally think “seduce” is over the line. You can say things like “I want to make everyone I see happy they met me.” Remember, it is not illegal to work for an escort service. It’s only illegal to agree to have sex for money.

There is no good reason why you would ever mention sex to the agency, and they should not talk about sex to you. If they do, that’s a red flag. If they are talking about illegal things to you, they will talk about them to the clients, and that’s not cool.

You should work for an agency that’s been around a long time and has a reputation for good service and fair dealings. It takes time to build up trusted clientele. And as a new girl, you should only be sent to see men who know how this works and will be nice to you.

I’m puzzled by how you say “find one online” You did find one online…?

But Craigslist? Craigslist? Dear girl. No, no, no. Drop that and walk quickly away. You do not want anything to do with anyone on Craigslist. I strongly urge you to not go any further with that. Go up to that box in the left corner and search “Craigslist” for my previous remarks on the subject. (Note: Craigslist is fine for non-sex-work things. Not fine for sex work, though.)

Go look on Eros-Guide, if they have one for where you live. Find the agency with the nicest and most expensive-looking website. Then Google “escort reviews” and the name of your city. Search that agency name on the local escort review board. See what you get. If there is no Eros-Guide, search the board for the best-liked agency.

There is no normal in the escort business, there’s only what you do or don’t wish to do. It seems like you’re being asked to have the guys come to your place. It used to be that "escort" meant "outcall", but the term is more flexible now. If you want to do incall, that's all right, but I don’t recommend it in your case. If you’re going to let this agency owner give people your home address, I think she should first prove her good-client chops by sending you on outcalls for a while. Her idea of “a really nice guy” might differ dramatically from yours. You’ll want to find that out someplace besides your own doorstep.

Best of luck to you, and be careful!

So, I'm currently banging my head against the keyboard of my computer, trying to make a Stranger column come out of it. I'm not sure if the magic words are lodged in my skull, or if they are trapped somewhere between the keys. But I feel that some percussion is required somewhere, and quickly, because it's due today.

That's all exactly as much fun as it sounds like it would be, so I'll spare you further description. Until I'm done with my impact-play scene, perhaps you'll amuse yourself making up captions for this Flickr shot.

I have arranged a large part of my life around the fact that I am not a morning person. As in, seriously not.

However, sometimes one has to do things one does not like. So this morning I am up at 7am to go meet a designer at a showroom - down south of Auburn, for god's sake - to pick out stuff for the remodel.

Seven-a-m. That's the middle of the night, as far as I am concerned. I really believe that each person's body is wired to want to sleep at certain times and be awake at certain times, and it's hard for us to change that. My body? Wants to stay awake until 2 or 3 am, and then sleep until 10 or 11am. That is what feels normal to me.

So the Mistress is a bit cranky this morning. But I'll try to be amused by faucets and tiles and so on. Check the Flickr feed, I'll send some snapshots.

But really, who put the morning people in charge?

It's a new edition of The Stranger and a new edition of me talking about sexy stuff. Enjoy!

Wow, there's a lot of kinky stuff going on this weekend. The perma-fabulous Midori is in town! She's hosting the annual Bang For The Buck Party Friday night, for all the hot women in Seattle. It's at the Wet Spot/ CSPC, and it will be wild, and full of hot women. Check the sexy flyer out here.
She's doing some workshops at Babeland as well!

***

Having such cool events and such a great social scene, it's easy to forget that it ain't so easy everywhere. Right now in the UK, kinky people are struggling with the so-called "extreme porn ban". As of January 2009, it is illegal for anyone in England and Wales to possess an "extreme" image, even if the activity itself is legal.

What the hell is that? Besides utter bullshit, I mean. It's not illegal to be kinky, but it's illegal to have a picture of it?

But there's a group called backlash. backlash was created in 2005 by the Libertarian Alliance, the Spanner Trust, the Sexual Freedom Coalition, Feminists against Censorship, Ofwatch and Unfettered to collate evidence for an informed debate on censorship and to fight plans to criminalise ownership of material the Home Office finds abhorrent.
It is committed to raising awareness about why the plans are wrong, won't work and about the inevitable unintended consequences if government plans go ahead.
Go here to read all about this ban and what you can do to help backlash!

It's another episode of the polyamory web-cast series, Family. In this one, Gemma meets some of the neighbors...



I'm enjoying these very much, and I know other folks are too. I have only one critique of them. I want more, now!

You see, I am trying to be patient while the filmmakers build what is obviously going to be a layered story-arc, but I am not naturally inclined to patience. I want to learn some more about the main triad. Thus far, we haven't seen any exposition about how they came to be, and how the relationships work. Were two of them in a couple before the third came along, or did they all get together at more or less the same time? We understand that Gemma is sexual with both Ben and Stuart, but are Ben and Stuart sexual with each other? There are references to Stuart having other partners, but it's not totally clear if that's true, and what about Ben? I feel like I don't know these people very well, and I'd like to.

One of the rules of writing dialogue is: never have your characters talk about things they already know. Thus, backstory can be hard to do without sliding into this kind of thing: "As you know, Gemma, I was poly for a long time before we met, but Stuart is new to this..." Bad. It's the dreaded "info dump" that you'll see unwary writers do, usually about chapter two, in novels.

So they aren't falling into that trap, which I appreciate. I'd simply like to add more to my understanding of the characters. However, this episode ends with one of the previously-hostile neighbors making a friendly overture. Maybe if that storyline develops, we can get some history and outline, as they explain it to the new people.

I read an article in the New York Times recently, about scientific studies of the nature of women’s sexual desires. It’s a long piece, but I think it’s well worth reading. So go do that, and then come back and read this, because this is not intended to be a review or a summary of the article, but rather some thoughts of mine in response to it.

My first thought about Meredith Chivers was: how come I never get to volunteer for studies like this? I suppose one has to answer those “research subjects needed” ads. But it just sounds very interesting to be shown different kinds of porn, and then have your responses measured. Of course, I’d be wild with curiosity to know how my reactions compared with other people’s, and I imagine they don’t tell you about that.

This is interesting. (Emphasis mine.)

“Richard Lippa, a psychologist at California State University, has employed surveys of thousands of subjects to demonstrate over the past few years that while men with high sex drives report an even more polarized pattern of attraction than most males (to women for heterosexuals and to men for homosexuals), in women the opposite is generally true: the higher the drive, the greater the attraction to both sexes, though this may not be so for lesbians.”

So according to this, women who are not lesbians, but who do have naturally higher sex drives, are more likely to be attracted to both men and women? That would explain a lot.

It may be be that I have done an injustice to some of the dominant men who said they could train their submissive female partners to come on command, without any physical stimulation. Although I will point out that it still doesn’t happen instantly, at the snap of a finger. Also, note the keyword: rare.

“Barry Komisaruk, a neuroscientist at Rutgers University, has subjects bring themselves to orgasm while lying with their heads in an fM.R.I. scanner — he aims to chart the activity of the female brain as subjects near and reach four types of climax: orgasms attained by touching the clitoris; by stimulating the anterior wall of the vagina or, more specifically, the G spot; by stimulating the cervix; and by “thinking off,” Komisaruk said, without any touch at all. While the possibility of a purely cervical orgasm may be in considerable doubt, in 1992 Komisaruk, collaborating with the Rutgers sexologist Beverly Whipple (who established, more or less, the existence of the G spot in the ’80s), carried out one of the most interesting experiments in female sexuality: by measuring heart rate, perspiration, pupil dilation and pain threshold, they proved that some rare women can think themselves to climax.”

All of Marta Meana’s remarks are very interesting:

"For women, “being desired is the orgasm,” Meana said somewhat metaphorically — it is, in her vision, at once the thing craved and the spark of craving…. She recalled a patient whose lover was thoroughly empathetic and asked frequently during lovemaking, “ ‘Is this O.K.?’ Which was very unarousing to her. It was loving, but there was no oomph” — no urgency emanating from the man, no sign that his craving of the patient was beyond control.”

Yes, I dislike that, too. I mean, it’s all right to ask occasionally, but I have been with lovers who ask over and over, and it is a turn-off.

“And within a committed relationship, the crucial stimulus of being desired decreases considerably, not only because the woman’s partner loses a degree of interest but also, more important, because the woman feels that her partner is trapped, that a choice — the choosing of her — is no longer being carried out…. “

Speaking only for myself, I agree with this, and I think this is one of the many reasons why polyamory is the right thing for me. I continue to feel chosen by my lovers, and to feel that I am choosing them. And that if I wish, I can choose someone in addition to them, and feel the pleasure of being chosen by the new partner.

"A symbolic scene ran through Meana’s talk of female lust: a woman pinned against an alley wall, being ravished. Here, in Meana’s vision, was an emblem of female heat. The ravisher is so overcome by a craving focused on this particular woman that he cannot contain himself; he transgresses societal codes in order to seize her, and she, feeling herself to be the unique object of his desire, is electrified by her own reactive charge and surrenders. Meana apologized for the regressive, anti-feminist sound of the scene."

As is acknowledged in the article, this is a very tricky subject to talk about. So let me say also what the researchers said: rape is very very wrong. I do not condone rape, ever.

Let us talk instead of how I have felt with people – both men and women – that I was attracted to and wanted to have sex with. In the chapter that precedes the sex, where you have not said it aloud but both of you are thinking it, the part where you are both dancing and feinting and flirting, every sense you have trained on the other – their smile, their scent, the timbre of the voice as they speak to you – in that moment, it is extremely arousing to feel that they want you so much that they wish to transgress, that they would seize you if they could, and that you would be consumed in that passion.

You can’t manufacture that electricity if one of you isn’t willing. But if there’s even a slight tingle, it is possible sometimes to turn up the juice. I have a dual perspective - I have seduced and ravished other women myself. I know how I conveyed with my eyes, my words, the angle of my head and my body, that if she would only say yes, I could burn us both up in passion, and that we would enjoy that burning. I know what it feels like to have the electricity in me run through my hands and mouth and into someone else, and electrify her. I have seen the pleasure that women took in surrendering to me in that way.

And the pleasure that I took in doing that was very different from the pleasure I took when it was my back to the alley wall, being electrified by someone else’s charge.

It’s not that you must always be either the ravisher or the ravished in sex. But it’s a potent dynamic of desire. I think that it’s one of the things that can draw both men and women to dominant/submissive sex: the wish to experience the role of either the one who dares to transgress, and thus wins his/her desire - or the role of the one who is so desired that a lover dares all for them.

Thank you, dear readers, for your outpouring of clever ideas and suggestions about lighting. Great minds apparently think alike - or Google alike - because several of ya'll sent me links to this site: Y Lighting. I think their stuff has a lot of promise. It's not exactly what I was envisioning, but lots of it is close, and it's all very cool.

Several folks made brilliant (heh) remarks about LED lights.

Other suggestions included using photo gear, which is where I got the idea to begin with. I used to do a lot of photography. I miss it, but I really don't shoot anymore - no time, I blog instead! However, I still have a couple of softboxes designed for hot lights, and I'm not above re-purposing them if need be. (If it could be done safely, of course.)

And lots of you also took the opportunity to say sweet things to me about the blog and the column and the podcasts, which is always very nice to hear, so thank you for that, as well.

Hey, clever readers - give to me your vast store of knowledge about lighting. Because it may be that what I want already exists, and my Google-fu has failed me.

What I want is a light box I can install in my wall. I don't mean to display images on, I mean to use as a light source. Let me explain what I think I'm going to do, and you tell me if you've seen anything like this...

In my lighting fantasy, Jerry The Super-Contractor cuts a rectangle out of the sheetrock of my wall. Size? Oh, just say roughly 24 inches tall by 18 across. That’s just off the top of my head, the size is flexible. Not much smaller than that, although bigger could be cool. Height? Oh, say starting from slightly above my eye level.

In the open space, we wire in sockets for several standard light bulbs. Wattage TBD, but something like three 60w bulbs, so around the 180w total. On a dimmer switch, naturally.

I’m fond of the warmth of incandescent bulbs but I suppose I might be talked into color-corrected, non-flickering fluorescents.

Over these bulbs, we place white fabric, of the type that is used for lampshades and photographer’s softboxes, so it’s designed to withstand heat. It would be intended to lay flat, flush to the wall, not protruding at all.

Obviously I need to be able to open this up and change the bulbs. So the fabric – the shade, essentially – would need to be on some sort of frame. Perhaps we might frame in the hole and then design the shade-frame to fit snugly into that hole. I’m open to ideas about that, as long as it works and looks cool.

In sum: I want a large soft light source to wash the area, and one that's recessed into the wall so that it's flat. I want to clear up the floor space of the various floor lamps I’ve got going on now. (Do not speak of overhead lights to me, overhead lights are evil.)

Can you visualize what I'm saying? I can make these if need be, but I have no desire to re-invent the wheel if that’s unnecessary. Has anyone seen anything like this already made and commercially available? I’ve looked and looked and seen nothing like this.

A new podcast! In which Monk and I talk about sex work busts in Seattle and what not to do if you're operating a store-front sex work business. We're such entrepreneurs ourselves that we're fascinated by other forms of sex-oriented businesses, and how they succeed or fail. We'd do a great sexy-business-advice radio show... except that we're too busy running our various businesses.

Have a lovely weekend!

So I'm mostly all about shopping for stuff for the house right now, since the Great Remodel of '09 is soon to begin. Thus, most of my recent shopping bookmarks look like this, or this, or this.

But I am thinking about kinky stuff too. I've long wanted one of these, for example, and have had trouble finding one that was sized for a MAN and not a five-foot-five, hundred-and-twenty pound woman. I'd need to go find a looooong hose extension for a vacuum, though, because I don't want the dang thing roaring away next to me while I play. I imagine I'll be in Home Depot-esque places a lot the next few weeks/months, that seems like an opportunity.

This, however... I don't know, part of me thinks it's very ingenious and cleverly made. But it's also sort of disturbing, somehow. I suppose that really, it is simply the equivalent of a strap-on dildo, and god knows I'm a big fan of those.

But there's just something a little squick-making about these images. I think I'd respond to it better if they'd pictured it ON someone. Or even a dummy. As it is, there's just something very Silence of The Lambs about the photos. Do men feel that way when they look at hyper-realistic dildos? I had not thought so, but...

Nonetheless, I'm sure it will sell like crazy. Not my fetish, but just fine if you're into it.

Complete and unedited text of a recent email...

Subject: Dominators
Mistress Matisse,

Do you know of any men who dominate women?

I saw a video of women getting her vagina spanked and thought it would be fun to do.

Are there women who like to get that done to them?
I thought you would know.
Thank you.
PS Of all the dominatrixes I have seen on the internet you are the most powerful looking.

Even after all these years, emails like this puzzle me. I mean, how can this man have found ME on the internet, and yet not have found any evidence of male dominants? Is he asking me how to find submissive women in real life? Or does he want more female-submissive porn? Or is he just asking me to confirm the existence of a species?

He's being polite, so I'd help him if I could. But I don't even know where to start with questions like this, except to be absolutely literal.

So: Yes, I know men who dominate women. Lots of them.

Yes, I am certain there are women who like their pussies spanked.

And - thank you.

Hope that's helpful to you in some way I don't comprehend...

Happy Inauguration Day!

This is a very historic day! And today, I am very happy and hopeful about the future of America! Yay, President Obama!

A few points of information about my schedule...

I have time available Wednesday of this week, so if you've been trying (and failing) to schedule with me, talk to me.

EDIT: Looks like I have some time Friday too.

***

About Evening Appointments: In the past, I have not been open to evening sessions - meaning, not after 8pm or so. The reasons for that rule were were two-fold.

One was my experience that, as the saying goes, "Nothing good happens after midnight". By that I mean: daytime sessions with new people are less likely to turn out badly than nighttime sessions with new people. Thus, no nighttime sessions equals less chance of bad experiences.

But things have changed since I made that rule. I almost never see new people anymore, so why not see my favored boys at night, if they ask nicely?

My other reason - which will still hold true to some degree - is that most other people I care about work in the daytime and socialize at night. If I want to spend time with my lovers and friends, I must arrange my schedule accordingly.

But life changes, and lately I have more flexibility there.

So if I have met you before, then I'm willing to spend an evening with you. Carpe noctum.