Saturday, January 08, 2005

Ring ring!

Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, is this Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes, it is.
Caller: Uh, so can I ask you a question?

You just did, I think. This guy sounds awfully young, and my instinct says he's not a viable client for me. But we'll give him the usual thirty seconds.

Me: Yes, go ahead.
Caller: I know you're like a professional dom and everything. But I was wondering if you were looking for a slave – you know, like a personal slave?
Me: No, I'm not. Sorry.
Caller: Well, do you know any, like, non-professional mistresses looking for slaves?

Sigh. I get this kind of call at least once a week, sometimes more. It's sort of tiresome, because really, it just seems like these guys haven't thought this through very carefully. I mean, since the caller is aware that there is enough of demand to support professional dominants, they also might reasonably suppose that non-professional ones are in demand as well. They want one, after all, so it's highly likely that other guys do, too.
They might then go on to grasp the idea that calling up a stranger and asking to be put in contact with these in-demand women is unlikely to yield positive results. And really, the majority of single submissive guys in the world apparently do understand this, as evidenced by the fact that I only get one of these calls a week instead of dozens. But answering the same questions over and over – well, it just gets old.

So I say what I always say:

Me: No, I'm sorry, I can't help you with that.
Caller: You don't know any Mistresses who are looking for slaves?

Well, as a matter of fact, I probably do. For example, there is a certain stunningly attractive fetish model here in town who I know was looking for a houseboy recently. (Of course, he wouldn't get to fuck her or anything like that. But she'd let him scrub her floors while wearing panties, and maybe she'd give him a good sound spanking now and then. But I think she's since found someone, so don't bombard me with emails asking for her name.)

And I know several other women who, while they may not be typical fetish-model material, are damn good dominants, and who might be open to meeting someone new.

But that isn't how this works. There's no way I'm going to give another woman's contact information to some god-knows-who stranger. I don't know the first thing about this guy, I certainly can't recommend him to anyone.

Me: I do understand that you want to meet somebody, but I'm not running a dating service.
Caller: You don't have to do anything, you could just, like, give them my number.
Me: Look, even if I did know someone who was looking for a submissive - calling someone up and giving them your phone number is doing something.
Caller: Oh, but –
Me: What you need to do is join the Wet Spot and start going to events there and make some friends. That's the best way to meet people.
Caller: Well, I went there once and I just didn't see anyone who looked good to me.
Me: You "went there once"? Oh, honey, that's like saying you went into a party once and you didn't see anyone you wanted to marry, so there's no point in ever going to a party ever again. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that, and it's going to take some time. But I think that's your best bet.
Caller: I read that you had a party at your house. Do you think you'd want to use me at your next party?

I think we're having a communication breakdown here. I could just hang up, but I give it one more try.

Me: Listen to me carefully. I know that in porn novels, BDSM people just pluck slaves up off the street and take them into their homes, but in my very wide experience, that doesn't happen in real life – especially with women. I would never just invite some guy I've never met over to serve at one of my parties. And anyone who would just take on a stranger at the drop of a hat – believe me, you don't want them. They will be scary people, really. You have to go about this the same way you'd go about finding a non-kinky lover, and it'll probably take longer, because there are fewer kinky women in the world.
Caller: So you're saying you don't know of anyone who'd want to have a date with me tonight?

Click. I hang up.

Friday, January 07, 2005

After a lovely date with Roman last night - including a lot of public kissy-face at The Grind - I'm dashing off to see a client. Meanwhile, enjoy the new column, and the Kink Calendar. More later...

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Apparently I should post bootie shots of myself more often. January is typically one of the slower months of the year for sex workers, but yesterday's pic – and maybe the one over on ErosBlog as well – seems to have stirred up a flurry of um-I've-never-done-this-before phone calls from new guys. No stunningly weird callers, just people asking the basic questions about rates, hours and availability. Since I mostly see repeat clients these days, I almost have to stop and consciously shift my head into "processing a potential new person" mode, when once upon a time I could do it with only half my mind on it.

There is a charm to playing with a new person, whether it's in a professional or a non-professional setting. Everything is fresh territory, and all my senses are fully engaged, as I gather every bit of data I can about how they're responding to whatever it is I'm doing. And it's almost always the brand-new people who will look at me after a session with that blown-away expression on their face and say, stammeringly, "That was great. I mean, that was really great. That was exactly my fantasy. Only better!" Hearing things like that is one of the things that makes my job so nice.

Regular play-partners give me good feedback, too, though. And there's an intimacy there, and an ease to it, that I like. I played with a man today that I've seen a lot – Blue Eyes. He and I have good kinky chemistry together, and he has the cutest trick when I'm spanking him. At first, he'll wince and wiggle and gasp - what one might think of as a normal response to someone smacking your ass with a thick rubber paddle. But then, all of a sudden, he'll throw his head back and start laughing. It's not a nasty laugh, it's a sweet laugh, like someone has told him a particularly amusing joke. It's just the way the endorphins hit him. And I like it when people laugh when I'm tormenting them, so I'll usually laugh, too, just because I'm happy. Thus, if you were listening at the door of my dungeon, you'd hear the whack-whack-whack sound, followed by peals of laughter. I'm sure it would be confusing to someone not in the know.

It's funny how my body remembers details of how I played with someone before, even if my conscious mind has forgotten. I've had guys come back after not having seen me for a year or longer. After such a long gap, I'm always going to have a fresh negotiation session with them, of course. But then I'll be in the dungeon with them, and I'll see their body, touch them, move them into different positions, begin to play with them, and whoosh, everything I learned about them the last time we played will all come back to me in a rush. That's right, when he makes that noise, it means yeah-that's-good, and when he twists that way, it means he's getting close to his limit. I remember that.

I hadn't thought much about it til just now - but I'm sure my regular boys get to know me just as I get to know them. They must get to know my tastes in toys, and in types of play, as well as my facial expressions, and the tones of my voice - and what they herald. It's sort of charming to think about this small slice of the population walking around in the world with a very intimate knowledge of how I look and sound when I'm getting my sadistic pleasures fed. Some of those boys don't even know my real name (although some do), but they all know a certain side of me in a very real way. Galahad talked yesterday on Monk's blog about achieving immortality through one's stories. I like to think of all those boys knowing and remembering me as my way of being a little bit immortal.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

I'm feeling a bit behind on some things, so no long post today. Instead, a few quick links...

I've been checking the results in the BOB competition every now and then, and I admit to being pleased that, at least for the moment, I'm in first place. (You like me, you really like me!) Thanks for the support, and remember, you can vote every 24 hours.
In addition to voting for me, you should also go vote for the uber-fabu Bacchus (and his merry crew) over at ErosBlog. He's a finalist in the "big-name blog" category, a classification he says he finds somewhat mysterious. But no matter what his name is, if you haven't looked at his site, you should, because it's always entertaining.

A Public Service Announcement...
I am acquainted with a physician's assistant student in Oregon who is doing a research project surveying people who are involved in the BDSM lifestyle or activities, with specifics to seeking health care. Here's what she wants to know: if you have an appointment on Monday for your annual medical exam, but your ass is still red and raised from Saturday's caning, do you keep or cancel the appointment? Help her out by answering the survey questions, all quite anonymously...

To Amuse and Inform You...
I haven't checked every link, but this looks like a rather exhaustive list of definitions and explanations of various BDSM activities. Consult this before sending me "what-does-X-mean?" emails, please.

And a short, slightly dirty, and rather amusing video clip. Doesn't look like any brothel I ever saw, but…This Old Whorehouse.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

And now, a bulletin from the Not-Bloody-Likely Department...

Dear Mistress Matisse,
I loved what you had to say about having a foot fetish, especially coming from a girl. It seems like only a certain number of us guys are into feet and only a rare girl out there. I liked how you talked about plushies and furries but then came down to what you are really into. I suggest we meet for coffee and discuss this further, what do you think? It could even be a game: see how long it takes from first meeting to my having your beautiful toes in my mouth--that would be a thrill worth chasing after. This could all be the topic of your next column but let's talk about that first.

Whack from Mistress Matisse's clue stick, number one: When reading a paper, understand that editorial content is different from a personal ad.

Thank you ma'am, may I have another?

Whack from Mistress Matisse's clue stick, number two: Chicks who get paid to write about sex are usually pretty well-taken-care-of in the sex/dating department, and thus they are unlikely to respond to emailed propositions from strangers.

Thank you, ma'am, may I have another?

Whack from Mistress Matisse's clue stick, number three: Chicks who can get paid to allow strangers erotic contact with their feet are unlikely to do so for free. Especially when Clue Number Two is also in effect.

Thank you ma'am, may I have another?

Whack from Mistress Matisse's clue stick, number four: Read this... And understand that Darwin is not just a harbor in Australia.

Sunday, January 02, 2005

Okay, by popular demand - and with permission - a couple more pictures from the New Years Eve party...

Another shot of caged heat! They look like a really pretty barrel of monkeys, don't they? And they were as clever as monkeys, too. When I laid down on top of the cage to get a better look, they started pulling my clothes off immediately, and they were amazingly efficient about it. (Except for my thong, which I declined to let them remove. I simply mentioned that having it pulled off might just cause me to pee, and they desisted instantly. Smart girls.)

Max eventually let them out...

But then the boys decided to try it. See anyone you know?

I admit that I offered them some incentive... But when I said, "If you guys get into the cage, I'll lay on top of it again", I didn't think they'd really do it! They weren't nearly as quick about getting my clothes off as they girls were. (I had put them back on, you see.)
But they managed it eventually, and then things started getting a little frisky. This shot was taken just before someone pinched my nipple too hard and I got...pissy. Sadly, the one who pinched wasn't actually the one who recieved the shower. But sometimes these things are like sports or war: you have to take a hit for your comrades.

Then some folks had to leave, but their places were swiftly taken by others....Resulting in a more gender-balanced enviorment.

At first, Kitten took advantage of the situation to tickle her Galahad's feet.

...but soon she decided to just get inside with him.

There are more - so if you were at the party, and you were in the cage at any point, email me, and I'll send you some pictures...