Comments, questions, and update schedules...

A few quick remarks before I head off – Max and I have a date with a treadmill and some free weights, then dinner, then we're heading off to a party at a friend's house.

There have been a lot of great comments lately. However, as you may have noticed, I am not responding much in the comments box very often, and that's just because I don't have time. Plus, I've noticed that as often as not, your answers to any would-be challengers are pretty much what I would say anyway. (You're all so smart!) So I do really enjoy the feedback, and I like reading the interplay between the commenters, I just lack the time to participate much.

Sometimes people ask me questions in the comments box that aren't related to the subject of the post. You can certainly do that, but it's not the best way to get a thoughtful answer - or indeed, any answer at all - from me about anything. You'd do better to send me an email with your question, with the understanding that a) While I won't reveal your name/email address, I'll post it here and answer it here, and b) I'll answer it when I get around to it. That may be weeks or even months.

And while we're on the subject of posting…I've decided that in the future, I'm not going to blog (much) on the weekends. I may occasionally say something, but I have another writing project going and I think full-time blogging is taking too much of my writing time from that. So from this day forward, it'll be mostly weekday postings.

Now I'm going to go enjoy my day with Max...

Linky Goodness

The new column and the Kink Calendar are up, so go enjoy them...

I thought about trying to put together some April Fools links, but frankly, I'm too damn busy. The work phone has been going crazy this week, and I've been slammed, which is nice in many ways, but odd, because this is traditionally a slow time of year - federal taxes, you know. So while I go be creatively mean to some boys, browse these interesting links...

Navigating the murky waters of hiring a sex worker? Here's some info for you.

Several people have sent me this link: Russian scientists claims whipping reduces depression.

Oddly absorbing: The Industrious Clock.

Jesus Christ...I don't really know what to say about this. Except that it pisses me off.

"By rights she should be taken out and hung...For the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue."
Professor Henry Higgens, "My Fair Lady".


This email, that I received today, might just win the "Utter Gibberish" award of the month. Looks a bit like the free online-translators have struck again, although I've heard from native English speakers whose writing was almost this bad.

To worship You in person instead of has computer screen is dangerously exciting. I hope that I become You one day. I will drank cuts to earn it! The thought of laying tied up vulnerable, exposed and helpless At Your feet completely At Your mercy gold worshipping Your holi feet, is so exiting that I get goosebumps! Very Very exiting!

If someone is going to drink cuts at my holy feet in order to become me, I may well be exiting myself. I don't know what the hell he means by that, but it sounds like a black magic ritual of some kind.

I just has totally sincere, honoest, open and demoted slut, who needs training, disciple, abussage and transformation (drafted femisation), to Be molded into the perfect and being useful. This is because sometimes I get careless and playful like has little kitten, and need I viscous punishment and correction. CBT, whip, all kinds of bondage, nhipple torture, gags, trampling, foot/boot worshipping, trampling, spankinds of bondage, wipping roleplays all like this I. Sstrap one play too, I want to be your hoard.

Demoted from what, one wonders? Some high rank in the Abussingian military, where femis are drafted and playful kittens are viscously punished? (Perhaps with pancake syrup or motor oil.) No, I don't think I want a whole hoard of you, thanks. It sounds messy.

I sorry am I blatint, goal I believe honoesty, sincerity and partedness is the key to trust and respect. I know that when my ewes meet Yours (only with Your permission of curse) I will feel weak paralyzed and vulnerable.

Buddy, my parted ewes are not getting anywhere near you, I don't care if you are paralyzed.

If pleases Mistress I will Be melting like has melted wax that You edge mold into anything that infilters You (for example being useful, bread-slut, boot-slut, abbsuage sissy maid, plaything gold just anything You desire...). I edge only hope, with all my heart, that one day You will find me waxing Your boots gold shoes (the whole collection!) with my tongue.

Bread-slut? What the heck? Does that have anything to do with that edge mold?

A gentleman named Si asked me this interesting question:

"Does your kinky community support skilled people within its ranks? Do you use kinky plumbers, accountants etc. for preference since you know you won’t have to deal with (in your charming phrase) ‘banjo eyes’ if they have to deal with receipts from Kinkfest, or unexpectedly unearth a flogger from beneath the water heater."

Well, I certainly do. Sometimes I do it out of loyalty to "my community" as much as for my own convenience. A car mechanic, for example. I could just as easily go to a vanilla person, but given a otherwise-equal choice, I'd opt for a kinkster, just because, you know – one of us.

And other times it's simply a necessity. My housecleaner really must be kink-friendly, and it helps a lot that my bookkeeper is too. The plumber for the toilet in the dungeon? Gotta be a pervy person. And yes, that's because I don't really want to deal with a weirded-out vanilla contractor. Some BDSM people have no problem "squicking the mundanes", as my friends and I call it. But not only is that often inefficient in terms of getting the proper professional service, I think it's kind of rude.

As a sidebar… I often have innocent newbies assume that I have a ton of slaves who do all my housework and errands and such for me. For free.
To that I say: Hah. I'd have better luck waiting for the Easter Bunny to hop into my kitchen and do the dishes. Sometimes I think having a slave* is something like having a yacht or a private plane. They are lots of fun, and yes, they are sometimes quite convenient. But while they might occasionally save you time in some areas, it will be equaled, and often exceeded, by the time and energy you spend doing the maintenance on them. Because in my experience, slaves are high-maintenance creatures. That's why I don't have a personal (meaning: not a client) slave. I enjoy thrashing people a great deal, and I'll do scenes where I role-play a Mistress/slave relationship for an hour or two. But a 24/7 Mistress/slave relationship – no, that's not for me right now. I just don't have the time.

(*Note: I am using the word "slave" in a very non-specific way, and in this case it includes bottoms, submissives, et cetera.)

Phone Messages

YOU HAVE SIX NEW MESSAGES. PRESS ONE TO HEAR MESSAGES.
BEEP!
FIRST MESSAGE:
"Hi, um, I love your articles, I just wanted to put a voice to the other end of the collar."
END OF MESSAGE.
Okay, that's fine. I assume he means other end of the leash, but, whatever…

NEXT MESSAGE:
"Charles. (Pause.) 206-XXX-XXXX. (Pause.) You. (Pause.) And me. (Pause.) Together. (Pause.) Call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
I. Don't. Think so. Charles.

NEXT MESSAGE:
"Oooh, uh, Mistress, my cock is so hard for you, I wanna suck your-"
MESSAGE DELETED.

NEXT MESSAGE:
"Uh, yeah, this is (unintelligible mumble) call me back (mumble mumble), 206-(mumble)-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
There's a sex workers "review board" for the Seattle area that I read occasionally, and one of the frequent complaints there is about ladies who don't return phone calls. Well, if you mutter into the phone, so that it's impossible to understand what you're saying, you will definitely not get a call back. Speak up and speak clearly, boys.

NEXT MESSAGE:
"Hi Matisse, it's me, John – you know, John from Idaho, with the cell phone ringer that sounds like an ambulance siren? I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to make it over to see you this coming month – Uncle Sam gets all my play money for April – but I'll be back around next month, and I'm looking forward to seeing you then. Bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
I have such sweet, thoughtful clients. It's not at as if I would ever question John about why he didn't come to see me one month. I'm fully aware that my boys do have real lives apart from seeing me, and other demands on their time and money. But it's very nice of him to let me know.

NEXT MESSAGE:
"Charles. (Pause.) "I want to show you things." (Pause.) Things you can't even pronounce." (Pause.) Call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
What, Mr. Trying-To-Be-All-Sexy-Voiced Charles is a pharmacist? Because I've seen some medication names that I would have to struggle to utter aloud. (Chlorpheniramine? Phenylpropanolamine?) Otherwise, I have no idea what he means, because I actually can pronounce all the proper Latin terms for what I bet he's thinking about.

We're very bad, aren't we? Roman and I tell you we'll take requests and post them, and then what do we do but ignore you all weekend. Bad, bad kinksters.
But we're not really sorry, because we had a sweet, intimate weekend together, and we were very relaxed and mellow, which, given the usual frantic pace of our lives, was extremely nice.
We did take a few pictures, which you can see here. And I think I'm going take some portrait shots of Roman later tonight. I'll post them, but not immediately, because I'm going to be shooting film. Yes, film. I like film. Digital is nice for instant gratification, but there's a depth to film that mere ones and zeros cannot duplicate.
We'll have some video footage as soon as we edit it. But right now I think it's time for dinner...