Foodie

I don't feel profound today. Let's talk about something basic, like my taste in food.

I am actually quite boring about food. I think all my sense of adventure and desire for variety got put into my sexuality, because the whole food thing is just not a big deal to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my favorite foods. But I’m just not one of those people who's all about trying new and unusual cuisines. And if I can't identify what exactly it is, or if anything about it seems wrong to me, forget it, I’m not going there. Roman and I were at a fancy dinner party not too long ago where we were served something that looked and smelled like nothing as much as wet cat food, and I absolutely balked. He covered for me, thank god.

One of the things I miss here in Seattle is: seafood joints. I mean little neighborhood joints. I used to hang out in this great little place in my hometown with wooden booths and peanut shells on the floor, where every Tuesday was all-you-can-eat boiled shrimp night, and dollar-fifty Bud longnecks. That’s a seafood joint. Here if you want seafood, you’re going somewhere with a white linen tablecloth. I have nothing against that, but sometimes it’s just not what you’re in the mood for.

And I’m still looking for really satisfying BBQ in this town. Yeah, yeah, I know, Pecos Pit, yeah yeah yeah. Been there. It’s okay, but not that great. Ditto Jones Barbeque. I mean, hey – I’m from Georgia. I know from BBQ. I am not easy to please around this.

Where do I go a lot? Oh, KingFish Café, Palermo’s, Hana, Coastal Kitchen, the Madrona Ale House...

I was at Cafe Septieme a lot for a while, but I'm sort of over it now. I still like the red walls, though.

Pomodoro, over on Eastlake Ave, is yummy if I’m in the mood for a sort of Spanish/Italian fusion experience.

JaK's Grill does good steaks, but it’s a bit off my usual path.

For a take-out-fried-chicken-fest: Ezells. Worth the heart attack it’s undoubtedly promoting.

Late-night diner-type food? Charlie’s, on Broadway. Much better service than Minnies, and 13 Coins is both too surreal and too overpriced. (I've actually been known to eat at Denny's in the wee small hours, too, but everyone I know howls in protest at the very notion.)

Breakfast? Glo’s. The B&O Cafe is a close second, and they do great after-theatre dessert, too.

If someone else is picking up the check: The Metropolitan Grill, The Oceanaire, or The Union Square Grill. I keep meaning to try El Gaucho, but I haven’t gotten around to it. Canlis is good, but not to die for. (Lovely view, though.) I like Ruth's Chris better.

Then there’s pizza, one of nature’s perfect foods. I have three favorite places in town, so it depends on what kind of pizza I’m in the mood for. Stellar’s has great sauce, Madame K’s does a terrific crust, and Bill’s Off Broadway loads tons of yummy, gooey cheese on their pies.

I regret the passing of Chang's Mongolian Grill on Broadway. I also miss La Louisiana on Cherry.

Guilty Pleasures: Red Lobster. Yeah, you tell yourself it’s for the fish, but the fact is, those little cheese muffins are like crack cocaine. Have a strawberry daiquiri and you’re really in low-brow-food heaven.
And The Melting Pot. Yes, it’s gimmicky, and it takes forever. But it tastes good.

I’m curious about The Frontier Room – I was there about a million years ago when it was a pretty seedy dive, but I hear the food is good now. I also want to try Alexandria's on 2nd. Anyone got a review?

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Roman and I went to see "Capote" last night. It was astounding. Absolutely amazing. I have never seen a man's inner conflicts, and his path to emotional suicide, so skillfully portrayed. If Phillip Seymour Hoffman doesn't get an Oscar nomination, there is no justice in this world.

And now, ah... a long, quiet weekend, with no big events, stretches blissfully out in front of me. Maybe I'll rearrange my bookshelves.
(I know, that's not what you think of me doing with my weekends. But I'm a girl who needs her down-time, too.)

Oh, and the new column and calendar, in case you're looking for ideas about what to do with your weekend.

Somewhere in the last ten years, shopping for clothes stopped being something I did for recreation and became...a chore. I don't know why, exactly. I've never been a serious label-whore - I tend to dress simply and casually most of the time. Thank god wearing all black never goes out of style in my crowd, because it makes getting dressed such a no-brainer.

But I do like to look nice, and it's relatively easy for me to buy clothes, since I am neither very large nor terribly small, but sort of in the middle. My mom, for example, is five feet tall and small-framed, and then there's Miss K, who's a six foot Amazon queen with a very hour-glass figure. I have seen how they both really have to hunt to find things that fit. Me, I can usually slide neatly into a size six, though not always. I think some women's clothing designers size their clothes by throwing darts at a chart on the wall, because I have purchased clothing in size four, size six, and even a size eight, all in one day, in one store. In my closet I have clothes that say they are "small", some that have been deemed "medium", and some that purport to be "large". All for the same body. Go figure.

Fetish-fashion designers are particularly evil about this: I have fetishwear with labels that say "XL". Extra large? Are you kidding me? What would medium be, Mary-Kate Olsen after a week-long crystal binge? If I ever catch up with Catherine Coatney, that bitch has a lot of explaining to do.

So you never know until you try it on, and taking one's clothes off and on, and off and on, gets old after a little while, doesn't it?

So I do shop online some, although that's always a crap-shoot. For example, here's a very cute pair of boots over at Vicky's Secret. (Not the dress. Hate the dress.) And only $88, that's cheap.
But you don't really know what you're getting. It may be time for a round at Nordstrom. Hey, I know, I need a fit-slave. I mean, a female submissive who has exactly the same measurements as me. I'd send her to do my shopping.

Penii

Oh, my god, do I love this site. No, not because it’s got lots of pictures of boy’s bits – but because it does address the ago-old male question: “How does my dick measure up to other guys?”

Max and Roman are both quite free of any penis-anxiety, which is great. But I’ve known guys who were sorta anxious about the issue, although most of them had no need to be. But if you’re a straight guy, I can see how you’d kinda wonder what other guy’s dicks looked like. There’s such a tremendous variation, and porn movies are really not a representative sample. (Especially gay porn, good lord, I think they grow those boys in nuclear laboratories somewhere. It can't be natural. I know you can do a lot with camera angles, but still.)

Now, I say most of the guys had no reason to be anxious, but that’s just my opinion, and I have to admit: I’m so not a size queen. But there are women who are. God knows I’ve fisted any number of women who seemed to enjoy it very much, and whenever I’ve done it in front of boys, it’s occurred to me that I’m probably giving at least one of them a serious inferiority complex.

(I double-fisted a woman once, and that was the one occasion where I got a flicker of understanding of why some men have a primitive fear of women’s pussies. I had both hands in there, probably about three inches past the wristbone, and she was thrashing and rolling around, and I realized that instead of my controlling her body, she was sort of controlling mine. I had to move in sync with her, or get my wrists seriously twisted. It was definitely a “wait a minute, who’s running this fuck?” moment.)

I have met one guy whose dick was so big that it was a problem for him. I was twenty years old, I was an escort, and he was this thin little white guy, wiry, but very small-framed. I showed up at his place, he was very sweet and pleasant, we chatted for a little while and then – we went to the bedroom and he took off his pants and he’s got this…monster thing between his legs.

I took one look and stepped back and said, “Oh, I so don’t think so.” As I said, I am not a size queen. It wasn’t a long, skinny one either. It had serious girth.

He sort of sighed and said, “Yeah, I get that from a lot of the girls. It’s really a hassle.”

I wound up hooking him up with another lady who I knew had great - shall we say- depth of personality. (And who had given birth to two children.) When he stripped down, her eyebrows went up. “Wow. That’s like, uh…wow.”

The two of us stood there studying him like military generals eyeing a hill that needed to be taken. “Can you do it?” I asked.

She squinted one eye and drummed her fingers on her chin, considering. “Hell, give me the lube, I’ll try.”

Even getting a condom on him required three hands, but we managed. Then she laid him down and positioned herself atop him. “Now,” she said firmly. “You don’t move, you hear me? Unless I say you can. You lie still.”

She began working her way down inch by inch. It was kind of like watching a boa constrictor swallowing prey, only in reverse.

And damned if she didn’t eventually swallow up a good four-fifths of him, which he seemed to think was pretty keen. Later she confided to me, “Now I know what it feels like to have a soda can in my pussy.”

It’s a shame he seemed to be a straight guy. He could have raked in money in gay porn.

As I plunge unto another insanely busy week, clients please take note: at this precise moment, I have time available for one appointment on Tuesday, one on Wednesday, and one Thursday. It's the same time every day, starting at about 5 and ending at 6 or 6:30. Unless I get a cancellation, everything else for this week is booked, I'm afraid.
I usually tell people that 48 hours is enough notice for me to work something out for you, but lately I've been inundated with people who want my attention. And how can I complain about such a charming problem?
These things go in cycles - I'm guessing that in a week or so I'll be slightly less booked up. So if you can only do shorter-notice scheduling, try me again around November 1st.

Educational note: A lot of people have asked me about how to learn to do cutting. Well, I got the info too late to put it in the Kink Calendar, but there will be a workshop on cutting at the Wet Spot, on October 25th from 7pm- 9pm. This is a fundraiser for the Wicked Wymyn leather conference, sponsored by Seattle Women of Leather.
(Matisse, what's cutting? It's a body-mod/BDSM technique. Finished product here, graphic action shot here. Don't try this at home, kids.)
One caveat: This may be a women-only event, I'm not sure. So if you're a boy, I'd find out before I showed up at the door. I hope it's co-ed, just because cutting is a skill that you really need to be taught in person, by an experienced practioner. But it is true that women - especially lesbians and bi women - do tend to do more bloodsports than men anyway. Go figure.

More info? Try calling/emailing the Wet Spot, or the sponsoring group, SWOL@groups.yahoo.com


Now a question for the New Yorkers: A charming, recently relocated reader writes:

"Do you have a suggestion of where to go to get into the scene in NYC? I've always been rather envious of the vibe the Wetspot seems to have, and am looking for something similar in New York. I'd be sort of new to the whole public BDSM idea anyway, but having a new life means it's probably time to try some new things, right?"

I do admire people who aren't afraid to take risks. However, I don't know of anything like the Wet Spot in NY. My intelligence suggests that it's mainly stand-and-model bars, swing-club-like establishments, and the private-party scene, which of course you have to know someone to get into. There's TES, of course. Other suggestions?

Better late than never: This week's column and kink calendar.

And if you've been kinky in Seattle long enough to remember C-Space, take note, in that calendar, of the fundraiser for the revival of C-Space. That event is being held Sunday evening at the Wet Spot. I'll be there...

What’s up with me? Well, I went here for dinner last night, and it was way yummy. The service was a little uneven, though. In some ways our server was really helpful and attentive, but there were these loooong pauses between courses. Dinner for three took three hours, and yes, it’s a nice restaurant so they don’t rush you, but really, it was a bit much. Great view from the windows, though.

This man is now on my list of "celebrities I'd like to give a lap-dance to", because he does a brilliant send-up of Bill O'Reilly. Totally brilliant.

Hey, creators of erotic art:

CALL FOR ENTRIES: SEATTLE EROTIC ART FESTIVAL 2006
To be held March 24-26, 2006 at Consolidated Works in Seattle

The Seattle Erotic Art Festival (SEAF) was founded in 2002 by Seattle's Sex Positive Community Center (SPCC) to promote freedom of sexuality, speech and creativity through the erotic expression of fine art. The Festival strives to exhibit work not easily found in mainstream galleries and museums.

We invite artists of all backgrounds, countries, ethnicities, cultures, genders, sexualities, and ages (18+) to submit up to four (4) works of art of any media. 3D artists and painters are particularly encouraged to apply; please note that photography is a highly competitive medium.

Enter online at http://www.seattleerotic.org between October 15- December 15, 2005.

Bizarre sex trivia about me: I once slept with a professional psychic to see if he could tell the difference between a real orgasm and a faked one.

I was cocktail waitressing at the nudist resort, you see, and he came and did a show there once a month. (As a side note, isn’t there something odd about a psychic appearing at a nudist camp? It’s just strange somehow.)

He was a nice-enough looking guy in a forty-something, Nathan-Lane kinda way. (A heterosexual Nathan Lane, I should say.) Meanwhile, I was nineteen years old, I had a tan all over my body, and I was cutting a swath through the available cuties of both genders that summer. I was deep in my sexual-experimentation phase. (Or as my friends and I refer to it: one’s slut phase. Almost everyone has one.)

I thought, What would it be like to sleep with a guy who’s psychic? (Or at least, who says he is.) So I worked my section through his little show, punched out, went and sat down next to him at the bar and said howdy.

Looking back, I’m sure my approach was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. I say that based on my experiences being hit on by nineteen year olds. The very young are often beautiful. But they are rarely terribly subtle.

However, he didn’t seem to mind. Men are often so forgiving about that, aren't they? So when the bar closed, we went back his place.

It wasn’t a terrible sexual experience, but remember what I said about wondering if a psychic could tell a real orgasm from a fake one?

Apparently not.

Conversation between me and a potential client*...

Him: I’m really into tickling.

Me: That’s fine.

Him: And my fantasy is that I’m all tied up and you tickle me without any mercy. I have no safeword.

Me: That’s fine, I can do a scene like that.

Him: But I’m really apprehensive about being tied up and not having a safeword.

Me: That’s understandable. You certainly don’t have to be tied up, if that’s too much. Or we can negotiate a safeword.

Him: But I really want to not have one.

Me: Well, okay, then we can play that way.

Him: But I’m really nervous about that.

(Repeat about three times.)

Him: I want to have one but not really have one. Do you know what I mean?

Gentlemen, I understand the conflict between fear and desire. But you cannot simultaneously give up and retain control. Either choice is fine, but wanting to not (really) have a safeword but really (not) have a safeword gets into a kind of Orwellian doublespeak that gives me a headache.

*Who in many ways seemed like a perfectly nice guy.

I’m way too slammed to answer individual emails and blog, so we’re going to combine that today. A very nice reader writes:

I have a question regarding this:




I just got it in the mail today... As a college student with a roommate, the money/space I have available to build a massive toy supply is limited, so the price was definitely right. But- the nib? jib? tip? thing is a hard rubbery plastic. And I was just wondering... is it safe to use? Testing it on my hand/arm/leg, it delivers quite a sting, but because it's made for horses, should I just not have gone there? Is there a pressing reason why people should buy special crops that are made specifically for sex/people?
Or have I discovered a high quality cheap alternative to leather crops? Because for what it is, it is very well made.

My dear, you have discovered what many kinksters who came before you have found – tack stores are great places to buy riding crops. This is a perfectly dandy toy to use on a human. It does indeed look delightfully stingy, so you will have to adjust the strength of the impact to suit your partner. (Or they to you, if you’re the intended recipient.)

But in general, pervertibles are a wonderful thing. Not only are they often cheaper than designed-to-be-sex-toys, you can maintain some level of plausible deniability. (Not with a crop, though.)

For impact play, try also: big flat wooden spoons, spatulas, yardsticks and rulers, and paint stirrers.

Oh, and on the tack store front, look for one of these: it’s called a dogging bat. Kinksters often call it a slapper. Great toy.

Check out the new column and kink calendar....

And notice, if you haven't already, that I'm teaching a Spanking Class at Babeland this Sunday evening. It'll be big fun, and yes, I will be taking volunteers from the audience.

My classes usually sell out, so call for advance tickets if you want a sure thing - 206. 328. 2914. Babeland is located here.

This and that…

I’ve gotten a few angsty emails about this issue: Blogger axes adult blogs. I’m not especially worried. I think what they’re going after are people who have pay porn sites and are throwing up dozens of faux-blogs to get more traffic and higher rankings with Google. These pseudo blogs have little or no real content, just lots of keywords and preview pix. Frankly, I think Blogger is perfectly within their rights to delete them. They’re advertising ploys, not real blogs. That’s not to say one cannot put a link from a blog to a professional site – I do that. But there’s such a thing as abusing the system. This, however, is a real blog with plenty of non-porn content. I don’t think Blogger would say I was violating their TOS as I read them.

I could be wrong, of course. So if this blog does ever vanish, go check MistressMatisse.com to get the skinny on where it went.

Anyone read this? I never got around to reading Tracey Qwan’s first book, but I’m yet more curious about this one, as it’s ostensibly fiction. It’s gotten some rather snarky reviews, but it’s hard to know how to judge that. As someone who often contemplates writing fiction based on my own life - and as someone with some things in common with Ms. Qwan - I'm interested to see how it does.

The rest of the world discovers RealDolls. Or keeps rediscovering them, or something. Haven't I read pretty much this exact same article somewhere before? But places like Salon keep going back, because stories about other people's sexual deviance is an easy way to both titillate readers and make them feel superior at the same time. And that's how you make Middle America happy, don'tcha know.
Summary version: some guys buy realistic looking sex dolls and pretend that they're real women. I mean, to the point of talking about "making love" to them. It just seems sort of sad to me, but hey, I'm guessing they wouldn't care for my idea of a good time, either. To each their own, I say.
But some people - women, as you could probably guess - get all het up over it. Yes, I'm sure some of the guys who buy (and have "relationships" with) RealDolls are flaming misogynistic assholes. But I'm not sanguine about their willingness to fix that, so isn't it better that they're out of the dating/reproduction pool? I mean, it's either that or they'll be calling sex workers, and frankly, we prefer guys who like chicks that move.

Weird email of the day

Are you the daughter of the Mistress who died???

That's it, no salutation, no signature, no other text. Bizarre. I think I know what late and much-lamented Mistress he means, but I have no earthly idea why he thinks I'm her daughter. She's been gone for, oh, about a year now, I believe. Obviously he hasn't done a search here about my parentage...

Strange.

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A note to my close friends: that thing I was doing this weekend? Went really, really well. In a massively-tension-filled, exhausting sort of way. But, you know, good tension and exhaustion.

And of course the fact that it did go so well now means I'm going to be even busier than I was before, at least for the next few weeks. Crazy!

Happy Friday, people... I have a busy weekend ahead of me, so please enjoy the new column about my experiences at Folsom Street Fair. Play safe!

So You Want To Be A Pro Domme?
I got another email today wanting to know if I would hire the writer to work in my dungeon, and I decided to write an answer here. That way, every time I get someone asking me this - and it happens at least once a week, sometimes more often - I can just shoot back a link to this one page and be done with it.

Here's the bad news: No, you cannot be my apprentice. No, I will not teach you how to be a pro domme. Yes, I do enjoy teaching people BDSM techniques. But I prefer to do it in small bites, and at my leisure. Teaching someone, from the ground up, how to be a pro domme would be a very tall order. I don't have the time for that, and more importantly, I simply don't wish to. Let me explain why...

First, there are the legal issues. If you’re working for me and you injure someone, they can sue me. If you work for me and you do something illegal, I can get arrested. Now, I managed a “sensual touch” business some years ago, and so I know exactly how impossible it is to completely control the behavior of employees. “Don’t do so-and-so,” I would say, and no sooner did I turn around then, boom, they were doing it. Maddening. I’ve talked to several lawyers about this, all of whom agree with me that yep, if something happens that shouldn’t happen, I’m liable. There is nothing you can sign, no waivers, no releases, no nothing, that can change that. It’s a legal fact.

Then there’s the fact that I’d have to actually manage another person’s schedule. As it is now, I book my time as I please. I can agree to see someone an hour from now on a whim, or I can decide I’m taking a certain day off, and I have no one else to worry about. I like it that way. There have been brief periods where I agreed to let close friends rent out my space on an hourly basis, and even though I wasn’t processing their clients, the logistics of it always turned into an inconvenience for me. It was nice to help out a pal, but life is far simpler as a lone wolf.

Further, I have met a lot of sex workers whose personal discipline and sense of professionalism did not match up with mine. They do exist, of course– but they all seem to be doing quite well in their own businesses, thank you very much. It is not a coincidence that they never asked me to foster them. They didn’t need to. Managing the schedule of someone who was firmly dedicated to punctuality and preparedness would be challenge enough. Trying to corral a flake – and there are a lot of them in the industry - is a howling nightmare.

And the bottom line is – I’m perfectly happy with my arrangement as it is. I like working alone. I have lots of business, more than I need, so I don’t need another person to stimulate cash flow. I can’t think of a single reason why I’d change my professional life.

So, what should you do if you want to be a pro domme? I’ve written about that before, here.

In addition to this piece, the other thing I will say is this – even though we don’t have sex with our clients, professional domination is sex work, and sex work experience will be helpful to you if you start a business as a pro domme. I’ve been an escort, a dancer, and a sensual touch practitioner, and a lot of the things I learned about those businesses were very much applicable to being a pro domme. How/where to advertise, how to screen clients, how to manage scheduling, legal issues, dealing with other professionals, understanding your client’s emotional expectations, sensing when someone is the wrong client for you and dealing with that, and being in touch with your own emotional boundaries and creating ways of behavior that work for you. Sensual touch work, in particular, has a lot of very similar systems of client/practitioner interaction and energy, and can be both a good training for dealing with clients and a good way of generating the money needed to set up shop.

I’ve mentioned this to some ladies who came to me for advice, and once in a while I get a response that convinces me I need not bother giving them any more of my time and energy. “Eww!” they said. “That’s gross, I don’t want to touch some icky guy like that, that’s like being a whore.”

So far I’ve always been too polite to tell them to go fuck themselves, but it always crosses my mind. Blatant hypocrisy has that effect on me. And I wonder how exactly they think they’re going to be pro dommes if touching icky boys is so abhorrent to them, because we don’t do all our sessions a whip-length away from someone. BDSM is an intimate thing. If you can’t embrace the physicality of this, then the only CBT you should be doing is on a computer. And as for whores – well, when you sell your professional time, you have to please your customers if you want to be successful. That’s as true for us as it is for anyone else. If that makes someone a whore, then most everybody in the world is one.

So who is the ideal person to become a pro domme? I think it’s someone who has lots of personal BDSM experience, and also experience in the other branches of the sex industry. I admit that I’m biased on this, since that was my resume.

Second to that, I’d say lots of BDSM expertise is a strong point in your favor even if you've never done sex work. You’ve probably got the required kinky equipment and you know about the psychology. Your challenge will be in learning the business end of things and understanding the emotional challenges of your relationship with your clients.

Third choice would be someone with a sex industry background but no BDSM training. If you’re already in the industry, it’s possible to begin by advertising oneself as a light-fetish girl, doing things like hand-spankings, foot-fetish games and kinky roleplays. The chance of injuring someone with such things is negligible, so vast expertise in BDSM is not so crucial. You can gradually upgrade your advertised skill-set as you learn the techniques on your own time. Ethics would demand that you decline to do anything you’re untrained in.

There. I hope that’s informative for you, the would-be dominatrix. I do sincerely wish you the very best of luck in your journey. This career can be a most rewarding one, and I’m very happy with the choices I’ve made and where I’ve gotten in my life. I hope you come to feel that way, too.

Not kinky, but really intense: One of my favorite guys gave me these amazing - if somewhat spooky - images of Hurricane Katrina in LA. I grew up down in Florida, and one gets rather blase about hurricanes, but man, I never saw anything like these images. If I looked out the window and saw this, I'd probably think it was the end of the world. They look like CGI, but he assures me they are the real thing.

storm1

storm2

storm3

storm4

storm5

storm6

storm7

storm8

storm9

Bad Days For Sex Workers

Jesus, the nanny-state liberals are at it again. Seattle City Council passes a 4-foot law. Get your lap dances while you can, boys and girls, because in six months, they’re gone. Because, you know, the city council wants to protect women and promote decency and all. I expect to see a sharp rise in the number of escorts available in Seattle after it goes into effect.

And yes, Natalia, there is such a thing as too much publicity. What did you expect when you run your mouth like this, the city would give you a parade?

Wow, lots of fun at the bondage class and party last night. We had a great turnout for the class: about 40 people, which is a good number. Max and I had both Maura and Mrs. Wookie helping us set up, and they proved to be lovely demo models as well. (Not surprising to anyone who knows them.) Some old friends were there, and we met some fun new people as well.

We grabbed some dinner and then went back for the party, which was really jumping. Max had one maybe-we’ll-do-a-scene lined up, but when he walked in, another cute girl made herself available, and since Girl A was busy, Max didn’t let any grass grow under his feet. So I got a ringside seat for all kind of cool suspension scenes: Roman and his partners, the Wookie and Mrs Wookie, and Max and the first of his two play-partners, Miss Candy and James. Malixe showed up, and we sat on the couch and schmoozed with some new people, and watched the play. It was great.

After that, I got to teach a cute girl how to stick needles in her husband. That was big fun. I hadn’t brought a toy-bag with me, because I wasn’t expecting to play, so I didn’t have any needles. But Roman was sweet enough to give me some of his. (Yes, I know it’s supposed to be a bondage party. But we went off in a side room and no one minded.)

So Roman had been terribly, terribly mean to two lovely ladies, much to their delight and pleasure. Afterwards, I congratulated him on this, and was handing him back his needle case when he said, “So, wanna stick a few in me? I could use a little stress release.”
I smiled. “Can your wife drive you two home?”
“I already asked her. She wants to watch, if that’s cool.”
“Sounds great to me. Let’s do it.” So the three of us went back into the side room and I proceeded to do a little stress release on Roman, Matisse-style.

You see, I think people carry stress and tension in their muscles, and heavy physical play is one way of shaking all the stuff loose and letting it out. It’s like a purge, and I’m good at doing this with people, because I’m just not afraid of it. Some people have to struggle to access their tamped-down emotions this way, but Roman is a very physical, kinetic guy, and from the first scene we ever did, he’s been able to just go right there with me.

Which is good, because, ooooh, I really like doing it. I sat on top of him and punched his pects, and clawed him, and bit him, and he roared like a lion. It’s a great sound – loud, deep and throaty, with lots of growls and snarls. His whole body just vibrates with it, which is a nice thing when you’re straddling his torso.

And then I stuck some needles in his chest and (carefully) slapped those, hard. More roaring and snarling, and a lot of very creative cursing. At a certain point he started trying to grab me, so I had to kneel on his arms. I was using pretty much my entire weight to keep him pinned down, and even then I could still feel his all his muscles flexing and straining and his body shifting around between my legs as he growled up at me, wild-eyed.

Hot. Fucking hot. With a partner I trust, I really enjoy pushing someone to a point where they get all animal.

What’s interesting is that for two very well-equipped players, Roman and I rarely use toys or traditional dungeon furniture. We do use needles some, but it’s not unusual for us to play with just our hands. And teeth – we bite each other a lot. It's that animal thing again.

It was actually a pretty short scene – it was getting late, and we knew we didn’t have much time. Roman’s wife remarked later that it was like a “zero-to-sixty in 7 seconds” scene. I can’t do that kind of scene - short, intense, and physically demanding - with just anyone, and I wouldn’t want to. It’s a special dynamic, and I’m just glad I get to do it with Roman.

It's Friday and that's a good thing, because you know, I’m sort of tired. I think I’m still recovering from all the busyness of the past month. Roman and I had a sweetly low-key date together last night that actually didn't (gasp) include teeth marks, needles or novelty headwear. It did, however, include Stellar's pizza, something guranteed to put me in a happy mood no matter. Stellars is right up there with foot massages when it comes to sensual bliss. But Roman is a sweet treat all by himself.

So I think I’ll just relax on Saturday, and then have fun with Max at his bondage workshop and the Wet Spot party Sunday. Nice to get back into my usual rhythm of life.

Speaking of my usual rhythm, go read the new Stranger column….

There's good news and there's bad news...

Airports Step Up Efforts To Seize Porn

(Snipped)...Although security personnel at airports have reportedly been given a list to reference when deciding whether to seize content, the criteria in the list has not been made publicly available.

In just a two-week time span, however, inspectors for U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) at Logan International Airport have already confiscated a number of items, including digital pictures of women having sex with various animals, 100 copies of a scatalogically-themed DVD, and a number of bondage and fetish articles not normally targeted by authorities.

“Our main focus is on terrorism,” Ted Woo, spokesman for the CBP, said. “But this is something our agents are definitely on the lookout for.”... (Read the whole story here.)
Brought to you by the Bush Administration and the "Alberto Gonzales For Supreme Court" Fund... They're totally pandering to the religious right on this one. Jesus.

In other yeah-right news...

Faux New's Bill O'Reilly deplores The Folsom Street Fair. "These kinds of demonstrations, even though they raise money for charity, do harm to the gay community. When people around the country see this, they don't like it. And they start to stereotype homosexuals, and that hurts gay people everywhere." Yeah, cuz we all know how concerned Bill O'Reilly is that gay people not be discriminated against or anything. Uh-huh.

This is good news for me personally.... "Societies are worse off when they have 'God' on their side." Glad to hear it. That does explain why I've never murdered anyone, contemplated suicide, gotten pregnant as a teenager (or any other time) or had an abortion.

But just in case you thought I was the weirdest person in the state... I present to you: The Catman. Sort of takes the "furries" thing to a whole new level.

Teknikul Difficulties

I've been having various small computer-related difficulties lately, so I figured I'd put it all out there to ya'll, and some genius would have the answers for me.

Number One: Since I switched to Firefox, I can't get video clips to play. Or rather, sometimes they will, but more often, they won't. Not QT, and not WMP. I figure it's some script-permission thing? Anyone know how to tell FF it's okay to play vid clips?

Number Two: Since my comment system, BlogBack, is going away quite soon, I'm trying to export the comments as an XML file. Blogback is set up to do that, but I keep getting this error message when I try. "XML Parsing Error: not well-formed"
That seems unnecessarily nasty, but I have no idea what it actually means. I don't know jack about XML, so use small, simple words in any instructions you give me.

Number Three: This is a Blogger issue, and yes, I've looked in the Help section. Since I now have to use the Blogger comment system, I want it to look like the BlogBack one, where the comments appear in a pop-up window. However, even though I have supposedly enabled that function - it's not happening. Yes, I've cleared my cache file. Hell, I've rebooted. No dice.

Any suggestions?

Some Folsom pictures, and a funny story…

A very common sight at Folsom.

Fishing for something out a 3rd-story window.

Nice butt.

Twisted Monk temporary tattoos were seen in all the best places.

Women love them. Or maybe it's just the rope.

It's tough work, guys, but someone's gotta do it.

Whenever there was a cute girl in the air, I couldn't even get close to the booth.

Galahad being eyed by a man wearing his underwear around his ankle.

Really. See, there's his car key on his shoelace, too.

Max takes his turn rigging: Ladies first.

And boys later.

As the crowd looked on.

So, an amusing coincidence... Max and I arrived in the Seattle airport yesterday afternoon, collected our bags, and climbed onto the bus that serves the MasterPark (no pun intended) lot that we use. Sitting across from us were two nice-looking, thirtysomething guys. They were the kind of guys that, if you saw either of them alone, you wouldn’t immediately say “oh, he’s gay”. But somehow the two of them together – well, maybe it was the way they were sitting. Straight men, in my experience, just don’t sit quite that close to each other. It wasn’t that they were draped all over each other, not at all. And there wasn’t some big sexual energy or anything - in fact, if I had to make a guess, I’d say they were good friends but not lovers. At least, not seriously or currently.

But, truthfully, it wasn’t terribly hard to draw some conclusions about them, because one of them was wearing a t-shirt that read “Folsom Street Fair 2005”.

Now, I normally do not talk to strangers in public. I just don’t. I’m very reserved in that way. But Folsom is such a cultural touchstone. So I caught his eye and grinned at him, indicating his shirt. “Yeah, I was there, too.”

He smiled back. “You were?”

Max had been supervising the loading of our several bags, but that moment, he came and sat down next to me. “Yeah, we were there.” I said. “It was great, wasn’t it?”

So we sat and chatted about some things we’d seen, in that elliptical, coded way that queers and kinksters do when talking in a mixed public setting. There was a woman seated nearby who was obviously listening to our conversation, but she was just as obviously not understanding our references. Like this one:

“Did you see that the San Francisco Police Department had a recruiting booth there?”

“Yeah, we saw that. Too funny. I guess they thought, hey, all these guys like uniforms anyway…” (laughter)

The first year I went,” said Max, “I had a hard time telling which ones were the real cops and which ones were just…dressed. I figured out to look for the gun, that was the only way to tell for sure.”

We had a nice chat on the five minute drive, and bade each other goodbye when we arrived at the car lot, and I thought that was the end of a pleasant encounter. I watched the attendant heave our bags into the car, but when I turned around to look for Max, I saw him off in conversation with one of the two men.

God, he’s such a flirt, I thought, smiling. For a guy who says boys don’t make his lust-meter rise, Max does enjoy admiring and being admired by gay men. I’m so used to it that it didn’t cross my mind that it could be anything else.

Until Max got into the car and said, “So it turns out I used to work with that guy.”

“Wha-at?” Max is quite firm about keeping his professional life separate from him private life – that’s why you don’t see pictures of his face online anywhere. So I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about this.

“Yeah, a number of years ago I hired him for a contract gig. I didn’t recognize him – not until he reminded me - but he recognized me.” He laughed.

“Are you okay about this?”

“Sure, it’s no big deal. We’re sort of equally busted, if you know what I mean. It’s fine. I gave him my card and I got his, I might be able to use him again sometime.”

I always say: it’s a small town when you’re kinky…

Hi, kids… I’m footsore and weary from the fair, but wow, what a fun weekend.

It didn’t start off so well. I came down with a cold the day Max and I flew out of Seattle, and I was very cranky to think that I was going to be sick and feeling lousy all weekend. However, my pervy immune system rallied and while I was pretty icky Thursday, I was a trifle better on Friday and much better Saturday. I was relieved, because that was the day Max and I taught our classes and I wanted to be feeling perky. The Folsom Fringe conference was quite nice - the event organizers treated us very well, and the hotel was great to us. We got to chat with Fakir Musafar, who did our flesh hook piercing a couple of years ago. We both like Fakir a lot and haven’t gotten to see him for a while.

And by Sunday I was feeling almost completely healthy. Thank god, because I wanted to enjoy the street fair. I’m going to write a column about it, so I won’t go into lots of detail about what the fair was like here. I’m sure some of my friends will, so I’ll link to them as they post in their blogs.

Monk’s booth was, of course, the locus of a lot of kinky Seattlites. He and Griffin were busy all day on the suspension platform, tying people up and hoisting them into the air, to the delight of the crowd. And the crew (Galahad, Kitten, Tambo, Liss, and NerdyGirl) were selling rope like it was going to be outlawed tomorrow. Max also took some turns, tying up first a cute blonde girl and then a cute blonde boy. On the sidelines, I put a red rope harness on the sexiest black butch top I’ve seen in a while – damn, she was hot! It was definitely a “I love my life!” moment.

I took a bunch of pictures, so look for those tomorrow. Now I think Max and I have some final shopping to do before we fly home… Hmmn, maybe Stormy Leather is having a “Day After Folsom” sale…

You've heard about her, you've read about her, you've seen her naked butt. Now read all about the fabulous poly life of Miss Candy and her hottie husband MC, in this week's Stranger column.

Meanwhile, I'm busy down here in Cali, shopping and socializing...

NonStop

So, Mom left this morning, and in 24 hours, I fly to San Francisco for the weekend to teach kinky rope classes with Max and attend Folsom Street Fair. The rapid shifting of gears in my life leaves me a little breathless sometimes. Max feels the same way, given that he just got back Monday from a ten-day driving trip. And Roman has been putting the pedal to the metal, gearing up to vend his wares at the street fair. It’s crazy around here, I tell you.

Note to clients: I’m booked up today, and I’ll be unavailable Thursday-Monday. I will not be taking phone calls during that time either, although I will be checking email and I may be able send brief responses. I’ll try to return all calls and emails on Monday. I am booking for appointments starting Tuesday, so call me then to get time with me. Regular clients can also book time with me via email.

So, another picture: remember I talked about those nice noises Candy made when she was whacked on her butt with a bamboo stick? Well, she’s sweet, but she’s certainly anything but a Candy-ass.

The Bush administration and the FBI need volunteers for the Porn Squad. Curiously, they seem hard to (yes, I'm going to say it) come by.

More porn: an interesting discussion on Slate about two books on porn in American sexual culture. I can’t say it makes me want to run right out and buy either one of them, but a thought-provoking piece nonetheless.

Question: Has anyone ever stayed at the Moore Hotel? I’m going to go check it out for myself after I get back in town, but – any first-hand experiences?

I'm spending the day with the Mominatrix, before she flies back to Atlanta tomorrow. Meanwhile, enjoy pictures of people being mean to the piñata boy. (Thanks to James, our host and photographer.)

Laughing at the big stick.
Monk prefered to use his hand.
Lady Lydia and the Nerf bat.

Stories of a Human Piñata.

Well, we never did get any candy out of the piñata boy, but we hung him up and whacked him a lot anyway. Hopefully some pictures will be forthcoming. (Nudge, nudge, James.)

(Disclaimer: Most BDSM gatherings do NOT feature a whole bunch of tops ganging up on one bottom. Usually, you dance with them what brung you – or at least with one person at a time. But this was a send-off party for a special pal, so we decided to be extra-attentive to him. Heh.)

Candy found that when hitting a suspended, rotating target, close attention is required in order to not crack someone in the head. Fortunately, she made this discovery while using a big, stiff piece of Styrofoam. Instead of, say, a solid wood dowel.

Monk instructed the piñata boy to cry “Ole!” each time he thumped him.

The Wookie showed us that performing nunchuk moves with a pair of brightly-colored nerf bats looks cool. And apparently it hurts a lot when you hit someone with them. Who knew?

The piñata boy has two very distinct noises – a deep, groan-y one for when you hit his back, and a sharper cry for when you hit his ass. The deep one is a obviously a happy-pain noise, while the sharper one clearly indicates he’s not so happy. That’s not unusual – most people have sweet spots where impact feels good, and places where it’s harder to take. Sometimes when I’m playing with someone like that, I switch quickly from one spot to the other and kind of play a little tune. Like Chopsticks, only with just two keys.

Later: Candy also makes really nice noises when you hit her cute little butt with a big old nasty bamboo stick.

Later still: Monk (a heterosexual guy) stuck some needles in The Wookie’s (another heterosexual guy) chest. Tambo, Rossi, Candy, NerdyGirl, Mrs. Wookie and I got all juicy watching this. We are that starved for hot boy-on-boy action.
Then Mrs. Wookie went over and got involved, and we really got hot and bothered. MMF threesome, woot! (No, not really. But we can dream, can’t we?)

Such was the tenor of my weekend...

Hey, want to get involved in the Seattle BDSM community? Volunteer! A letter from the awesome director of the Wet Spot, Allena Gabosch...


The Wet Spot Needs You!

The Seattle Sex Positive Community Center is a volunteer driven
organization. There are currently only two paid staff, myself and Dusty,
our Site Coordinator. We have 30-50 hours a week of programs, between
workshops, support groups and our regular evening events (which adds up to
over 130 hours a week of volunteer labor) . We also have behind the
scenes crews who assist our site coordinator with maintenance and daily
chores like laundry (we do upwards of 30 loads of laundry a week for
example). It is members like you who keep our organization
running. There are some changes coming in the very near future and some
special volunteer opportunities that go along with these changes. We also
are going to be putting on some events outside of the Wet Spot that will
require volunteers. We always need volunteers for our events and for non
event work. And finally, there are many Teams and Committees that make the
Wet Spot function and are always welcoming new ideas and people with
commitment and energy.

How can you be involved? Glad you asked.

The special projects coming up at The Wet Spot will require some volunteers
with specific abilities. If you have experience in any of the following
please write to me (director@wetspot.org) and send me a short resume with
your experience.

General Contracting
Electrical
Plumbing
Masonry
Painting
Dry Wall
Heating and Air Conditioning
Interior Design

The events outside of the Wet Spot include our upcoming Cirque Du Noc
(Vendor Fair and Fetish Ball in December) and the 2006 Seattle Erotic Art
Festival (SEAF). Both be held at Consolidated Art Works
(www.conworks.org). Part of our rental agreement with Consolidated Art
Works is to help their organization with their construction needs. So, if
you e-mail me about the special projects at the Wet Spot, we also may ask
you to help us at Conworks. We'll also need cashiers, coatchecks, set up
crew, tear down crew, greeters and other key volunteers for both the Cirque
and SEAF. If you're interested in being part of the Cirque du Noc or SEAF
write me and I'll direct you to the appropriate volunteer coordinator.

As I said, our regular events require 130+ hours a week of volunteers and
there is a good chance that will increase as we increase our
programming. There are a variety of shifts that you can volunteer
for. These include Cashiers, Ambassadors, Monitors, Librarians, Rovers
and Attendants. We have a pretty simple training program and would love to
have your assistance. If you're interested in volunteering at events,
write to volunteers@wetspot.org.

Our behind the scenes volunteer staff is pretty full right now, but there
is always a chance that an opening will arrive. If you have an interest in
doing laundry, helping with maintenance (are you good with a hammer and
drill?) or if you're unable to volunteer in the evenings, then write to
noneventvolunteers@wetspot.org and we'll put you on our list.

Finally, our Teams and Committees. The Wet Spot is a non-profit which
means that there is a board who governs. To assist in the governance the
board creates committees. Committees suggest policy and procedure for the
board to implement and assist in creating the governance structure. Our
committees consist of at least one board member and most are open to our
general membership. They include Finance, PR/Marketing, Membership,
Fundraising, Education and HR. The committees answer to the board. The
Teams are the groups who implement the policies and procedures. They also
are the organizers and planners for the various events that we hold. They
make up a good part of the Wet Spot non-board leadership. They generally
answer to the Executive Director. They include most of our regular events,
Grind, Pansexual, Erotic City, Women's, Men's and Dykes N Fags In
Kink. There are also teams for Education, Programming, PR. SEAF, and
Laundry. We also need to create a couple new teams, such as Fundraising
and Decorating. If you are interested in being part of a team or
committee, write me (director@wetspot.org) and I'll forward your request to
the appropriate person. Some of these teams are maxed as to membership, so
please mention all that interest you.

What's in it for you, you ask? Another good question. Besides the
satisfaction that you are helping the Seattle Sex Positive Community Center
continue to be one of the cutting edge organizations in the country, there
are perks for most of the volunteer staff. There are special free events
throughout the year for our volunteers. Event and behind the scene
volunteers get free or reduced entry into our events (there are specific
criteria that the volunteer coordinator will inform you of, when you sign
up). Volunteering at SEAF or Cirque du Noc will get you entry to those
events. Special project volunteers (ie: construction) will get vouchers
for entry to our regular events and for those of you with specific skills
there may be a membership upgrade. As for Teams and Committees, while
there are no extra perks, you get the privilege of being part of the
leadership. You get to assist in creating policy, new programs and
affecting not only our local scene, but Sex Positive Culture in
general. What could be more rewarding (and hot) than being a mover and
shaker within the Sex Positive Community?

Without our amazing volunteers we would not exist. We need you to step up
and become part of this incredible experience.

I look forward to seeing many new faces at our volunteer events.

Thank you so much

Allena Gabosch
Executive Director

Friday again, and another column. This week: advice to would-be clients of sex workers.
Max is still away, so I'm on my own for the weekend. Hmmnn, what trouble can I get into? Let's see, I have a date for dinner with my pal Jake. Remember Jake? He's very happily dating a sweet, pretty yoga teacher now. I like her.
And there's a kinky party with a Mexican theme, at which I'm told there will be a human pinata. Sounds delightful.
On Sunday I'm having coffee with a woman who may be interested in being a service submissive for Max and I.
So it's a pretty full weekend, all things considered...

From the Book of Questions: Love and Sex

When you meet people do you ever imagine what they look like naked or they are like sexually?
Oh, hell yes, all the time. I do it with strangers to pass time when I’m doing something boring like standing in line at the bank or running on the treadmill at the gym. I mentally run down a whole list of possibilities. Are they kinky? If so, how? Dominant or submissive? Masochistic, or sensually submissive? Would they prefer rope or handcuffs? What quirky fetishes might they have – feet, furries, farm animals?
I do this with the few-and-far-between vanilla people I have social interactions with too. Oddly, I’m least likely to do with people who I know for sure are kinky – perhaps because if I just wait a little while, I’ll probably get to see them in action, or at least hear some juicy stories about them.

How would you feel if you knew someone was musing about you in this way?
What, you mean they aren’t? Geeze, I just assumed everyone did this. Wow, I feel all pervy now.

Speaking of sexual speculations, Roman and I were lying in bed last night, indulging in some late-night silly conversation about sex. We started off giving the thumbs-up, thumbs-down to various celebrities. He was surprised that I would decline to boff Robin Williams but that I would jump Robert DeNiro. He allowed as how he’d say “No thank you” to Halle Berry but would happily ravish Mimi Rogers. Then I asked him, just hypothetically, which of our friends he’d have sex with, if given the opportunity.
“In a frictionless, gravity-free world? Can I flashy-thing them afterwards so they don’t remember?”
“Oh yeah," I said. "Absolutely, you can erase their memory of it. No bill to pay for this one. What about X?” (You didn’t really think I was going to name names, did you?)
“She’s cute, but, mmnnn, no. What about you – how about X, would you do him?”
I thought about it. “Maybe. Only if I could smack him around while I was doing it.”
“Oh, of course.”
It’s so nice to be poly and be able to laugh and tease with one’s lover about stuff like fucking other people, and have there be no drama about it.

So, I try not to be too political around here, but man, with all the interesting stuff going on, I can't help it.

There's Katrina news, of course: Bush Takes Responsibility. I'm stunned. I never thought I'd see the day when this administration took responsibility for anything. Next you'll tell me there's a Santa Claus.

I'm watching John Roberts tap dance on the issue of abortion rights in his confirmation hearings. You can probably tell I'm not crazy about him, but overall, I think he's better than a lot of people Bushie boy and his pals could have put up there.

You know things are weird when Newt Gingrich is the voice of reason for his party.

"Gingrich argues that the values debate that has divided America so sharply during the past decade is over. There's a broad consensus about most issues, and anyway people realize that the country's big problems aren't about morality but performance. "We're not in a values fight now but over whether the system is working," Gingrich told me. "The issue is delivery." And that's true at every level -- city, state and federal." From WAPO columist David Ignatius.

Hey, I know I'd be much more likely to vote for Republican politicians if they'd just keep their noses out of my uterus, my bedroom and my dungeon. Newt assessed the mood of the nation pretty accurately in the 90's, I'll be interested to see if anyone pays attention to his prophecies now.

Here's a dark joke that covers the top two stories of the day:

Q: What's George Bush's position on Roe vs. Wade?
A: He really doesn't care how people get out of New Orleans.

(Via Balkinization.)

And on a musical note (so to speak) - while you may or may not agree with the basic sentiment, you have to admit it's a catchy tune: "George Bush Don't Like Black People". Inspired by Kayne West, rendered by The Legendary K.O.

More sexy stuff soon...

Back from the trip with mom - Salish Lodge was divine as usual. They do this foot-scrub-and-massage thingie in the spa that I would be happy to have done to me every day for, oh, two or three hours. Really nice. And great mother/daughter time, which is more important.
If you emailed me or called me and left a message in the last few days, I will get back to you ASAP, I swear.
Back to regularly scheduled blogging tomorrow...

It's Friday, and the new column and calendar is up. What else? Well, it's been busy around here. Max is leaving today to go on one of his road trips. He'll be gone about a week, and of course I'll miss him terribly, but I do enjoy having some time alone.

Not that I'll be alone all that much. Mom returns Saturday and then she and I are going up to the Salish Lodge for some mother-and-daughter spa time. Two days of massages, facials, and various other pleasurable things - I can't wait. (Clients, please note: I will not be available Monday or Tuesday of next week.)

And I'll be spending some extra time with Roman this coming week as well, although he's in a frenzy of preparation for Folsom Street Fair. Max and I are looking forward to FSF as well - we're teaching some rope classes at the Folsom Fringe Fest this year.

Seattle theatre fans: Max and I went to see "Vincent in Brixton" at the The Act last night. It's a good show, intense and well-acted. Seeing a play based on Vincent Van Gogh's young life intrigued me, so I think I'll click over to Powells and see if they have a good biography of him. Any suggestions?

Questions

Sometimes, I admit, blogging is a difficult task. I sit down in front of the computer and think, “What the hell am I going to write about?”

Today I came across a little book I’d forgotten I had. It’s called, The Book of Questions: Love and Sex. It's a spin-off from the conversation-starting series by Gregory Stock, The Book Of Questions. I now realize it’s a good blog-prompter as well. So I opened it at random, and here are some questions I found.

When you look back on past romances, do you ever wonder what you saw in a former lover? If so, it is because you have changed or because you have grown to see the person more clearly?

Good lord, yes. When I think about some of my old lovers, I wish I could say I was on drugs at the time, because there is no other good reason for me to have dated them. Unfortunately, I wasn’t.

I’m willing to give myself a pass on lovers I had before I was, say, 22. And it’s not that all my exes are terrible people. (Although, a few of them.... ) But a lot of them were just horrifyingly wrong for me.

Sometimes it was that I wanted them to be something they weren’t, sometimes it was that I was sexually attracted to someone I had nothing intellectually or emotionally in common with, and sometimes I was intellectually/emotionally attracted to someone who was wrong for me sexually.

As for the second question: yes, I have changed, and as part of changing, I see the person – and my reasons for dating them - more clearly.

In the early phases of a romance, how much do you tend to be influenced by friends and family’s opinions of your potential partner?

Not very much. (Which may have led to some of my bad choices.) Not at all by my genetic family, since they know so little about my sexuality. In terms of friends, Miss K probably would have the most influence on me, because she knows me well and she has no axe to grind in terms of my having or not having a particular partner.

But because of the way I do poly, I would definitely listen to what Max had to say about someone I was thinking of getting involved with. But Max and I both know that there’s a difference between “I myself don’t find that person attractive,” and “You shouldn’t go there.” We don’t insist on close relationships with each other’s secondaries, although it’s fine if it happens.

I’d listen to Roman as well, particularly since it would be important to me that anyone I got involved with was respectful to him as well as to Max.

If you had to make love in either total darkness or where background noise would prevent speech, which would you prefer?

The noise. (Especially if it was, say, Rammstein, NIN, and Ministry.) Total – I mean, total! – darkness would be not be a turn-on for me. I have to be able to see a little bit, even if it’s very dim. Although - I have been blindfolded for sex, and while I wouldn’t want it all the time, it can certainly be erotic. For some reason, that seems different than being a pitch-black room. I have no idea why.

Some light relief from disaster news…

Article about poly in the NYT. It’s interesting to see the word and the concept make its way into the mainstream.

And another one in the Baltimore Sun (BugMeNot access: Username: bugmenot90@mailinator.com, password: bugmenot)

Paging Barbara Eden: “Genie Grants Scalia Strict Constructionist Interpretation Of Wish”.

Some Days My Government Really Frightens Me…

I’ve been reading about Katrina all weekend. What a shameful debacle. Local, state and federal government sure fucked up on this one, and a lot of people really suffered because of it. I predict some officials will be paying the price in the next elections, which is much less of a penalty than some of them deserve. The unmitigated stupidity of the President saying, "I don't think anybody anticipated the breach of the levees”, when it’s been predicted for years is just unforgivable.

And Condoleeza Rice taking in Broadway musicals while people in her home state go without clean water? Badly done, Condi, badly done. But why should we expect you to be any better than your bosses?

And now that Monkey-Boy gets to select another Supreme Court Justice. Shit! Given the anti-sex agenda of the Shrub’s administration, one shudders to think who he’ll choose. Roberts isn’t my dream date, but he’s amazingly sort of, almost, kinda rational, when you compare him to some of the other people Bush could have chosen. Now those far-right whackos have another shot at it. I'm thinking Bush will be catering to the hardest core of his crumbling base on this one, given that he's lost a lot of political goodwill over Katrina. It won't be pretty.

The greed and the misdirected energy of this administration disgusts me. I think of myself a political moderate, but the callousness and the rank inefficiency of much of the current Republican party leadership leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. I don’t need far-left liberals to create a nanny-state to protect me from myself, but good Christ, at least they wouldn’t leave the poor, the sick, the old, and the babies to die in a ruined city.

Another great list of places and way to donate to Katrina victims.

I feel so bad for those poor people who have lost everything. And for myself, I'm glad I got to visit New Orleans and experience it before this happened - and I'm sad that the beautiful, sensual, seductive city I knew is gone, and it'll almost certainly never be the same again.

I've had a nice Round One of my visit with Mom, and thank you to everyone who asked. Now she's off to Alaska for a week, so I'll be returning to my usual pervy activities until Round Two begins.

Here's this week's column, and yes, I did borrow heavily from some examples of bratty bottoms I know personally to write this. I just hope to god it doesn't give them fresh ideas. I'm sure that someone would blame me for that.

And by the way: No, Max did not write this. But he approves of it.


On a serious note... I'm appalled by what's happening in New Orleans. Those poor people - how awful. I've already made a donation to the Red Cross, and I encourage you to give what you can to the charity of your choice.

While my mother is here visiting, I'm going to have less time to write. So instead, please enjoy some of the Blog Greatest Hits. Be aware that that although the "comments" link may not reflect it, all the original comments are still there, so if you want to read them, click it.

If you're not familiar with the ways of kink, here's a good place to start: The Ethics of BDSM

My opinions, experiences, and general musings on life
Human Interest Story
Thoughts On Being A Pretty Girl (One of the more controversial early posts.)
BDSM Word Of The Day
Mr. Defensive
Open Secret
The Sixty Four Thousand Dollar Question (Another "Most Controversial" candidate.)
and the follow-up post: Comments On Female Clients
What I'm Not
Word Whores: The "Not My Dog" post
Poly Stars In Alignment
Public Encounter
You Dirty...
French Farce Weekend
Sex Positive? I Don't Think So!
Sex Index
Looking at Women
Demeaning To Women (And Men, Too.)
Female Trouble
Gym Guy, Part One
Gym Guy, Part Two

About Max:
Fifth Anniversary
More About Max

About Roman:
The Naked Truth
He's Just A...

Playing with my boys:
Flying High Again
My Idea of a Good Time

Conversations about the biz:
Advice on Clients
More Advice
Dinner with Miss K: Furniture Fantasy
Conversation with Miss K: Her Weird Phone Calls
Tips For New Sex Workers
Feminism and Sex Work

And, everyone's favorite category: Strange Communiqués From People: The phone calls, the emails, and the voicemails. There will be no more of these, so enjoy the oldie-goldies.

The Thirty Seconds Rule
Near Goddess Experience
Sexual Darwinism
And This Would Be My Problem Why?
Legend In His Own Mind
New Cell Phone - Old Memories
New York State Of Mind
Master and Commander
Weirdass Email Of The Week
Phone Messages
I Couldn't Make This Stuff Up (I know everyone likes Ryker Blackstar, but this guy is actually my personal favorite.)
From The Malebag
More Email Silliness
Freakazoids
By Rights He Should Be Taken Out And Hung
Barbie Reborn
Mentoring
Don't Worry, Be Happy
Sex Machine

The Maternal Invasion begins today. The Mominatrix arrives!

So, I’ve gotten some “when are you going to do another weird phone-call entry?” emails lately. Sorry, I’ve stopped doing the phone-calls entries. Not because the supply of weird phone calls has dried up (trust me!), but because apparently it was intimidating normal guys and preventing them from calling me.

In vain have I tried to point out that you have to reach a very high standard of weirdness to make the blog, and that calling to inquire about rates and availability is not the same thing as calling to announce that you’re slave zaptor from Planet Nine, and you’re here to worship my elbows. No, no, they wouldn't want to bother me. Uh, gentlemen, this is how I make a living, so legitimate phone calls are not "bothering" me.

Such hesitancy baffles me, especially when one considers how men are often capable of ignoring every “no” signal that a woman can give off. Apparently potential clients of dominatrixes are a more sensitive breed than your average guy. Which can be a nice thing, provided it's not taken to extremes.

But I do have to share just this one.

Ring Ring!

Me: hello?

Caller: Yeah, hi, is this Mistress Matisse?

Me: Yes, can I help you?

Caller: Yeah, I got a question for you. You do dominance and submission sessions, right?

Me: Yes.

Caller: Well, how much are your submission sessions? I mean the ones where you submit to me.

Apparently the significance of the title “mistress” is rather lost on this guy.

Me: No, I don’t do that.

Caller: You don’t? But it says...

Me: No, I’m a dominatrix. I do the domination, the people who come to see me do the submission.

Caller: Well, do you know any dominatrixes who are submissive?

Moral of the story: you really need to learn some basic terminology before you jump into the game.

Linky Linky

It's Friday, and the new column and kink calendar are up...

An interesting post about managing jealousy in poly relationships....

I don't agree with everything this guy says, but some of it I do, and it's nice to see moderate voices in the polarized political world we live in today. (There is some mild formating weirdness, ignore it, he says it's not fixable.)

Another tribute to the sweltering kink fiesta that was the Kirk/Spock relationship.

A very helpful letter to novice dominants who ask, "How do I do this?" The "role models" part is a little odd to me, but otherwise, good info.

Speaking of Parties

A post copied from my friend Joe, the coodinator for the "Bondage Is The Point" parties. This is going to be big fun. We're definitely going, and I'm pretty sure Max is going to do some kind of demo. Come see my honey in action!

Bondage in Paradise 2005
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4
4:00 PM to 10 PM

Free-range Bondage Party at The Longhouse (Wet Spot in Paradise) located Southeast of Redmond at 23301 Redmond - Fall City Road.

(Note for those you who don't know: Wet Spot in Paradise is a week-long campout for the sex-positive community. It encompasses not only BDSM people, but swingers, nudists, poly people, gender-queers and various other sexually diverse folks.)

Ever fantasize about tying someone up to one of the majestic standing stones of Stonehenge? How about a quick chase and hogtie in the grass? Or a beautiful submissive, tightly tied to the branches of a tree and available for your devious inclinations? Maybe perhaps just the simple joy of bondage under the open sky, warm rays of the sun beaming down through wisps of cloud, the way the cowboys used to play?

"Bondage is the Point" has been graciously invited to join Wet Spot in Paradise for the first Sunday in September!

For the same cost as the usual admission to the usual Bondage is the Point party, you can come out to Wet Spot in Paradise and play with your fellow bondage enthusiasts. There will be dungeon furniture in an outdoor setting, and acres of geography for your creative desires. Since we'll be outdoors and among other Paradise attendees who may be playing anywhere on the premises, the usual guidelines for non-obtrusive, noisy play will be suspended. So obtrude away! Pull out that single-tail, make 'em scream and jump!

WSiP provides dinner to paying attendees at 5:00 PM. For an additional $10, BitP attendees can join them. You are also free to bring your own food and snacks.

So come on out and join us. It'll be a fun and unique bondage party!

Wet Spot membership is not required for this special bondage party, so bring all your curious friends.

Note that for this party only, we're shifting the time 2hrs earlier to enjoy more daylight.

$10 for bondage party & demo only, $20 for party, demo and dinner. For more info, go here: Wet Spot, or Wet Spot In Paradise, or call 206-270-9746, or email bondage@wetspot.org

It’s funny when you’re out in the world and you suddenly encounter…yourself. Or at least, an image of yourself in time. I was at a party this weekend, and at one point a bunch of us (me, Max, Roman, Tambo, Silk, NerdyGirl, Peanut, etc) were being given a tour of the host’s extensive collection of medical equipment, much of it antique, that he incorporates into his kink play. (It’s not all antique, though - the man has a set of defibrillator paddles. They’re just for show. I think. And you thought I was edgy.)

Anyway, he’s got quite the little room all fitted up for this kind of play, but the one distinctly non-medical note is the art. He’s got large framed pictures of beautiful women all around the room. As we all looked around and listened to his explanation about just what all these nasty-looking implements were, he caught my eye and grinned. “There’s a picture of a girl I’d like to have as a victim,” he said, gesturing behind me. We all turned around and lo and behold…

Me, 11x17, matted and framed. Malixe took this picture of me a couple of years ago, and I think he’s sold more than one of them. I’d forgotten our flirtatious host had one. And while I wouldn’t let him (or anyone!) use those menacing instruments on me for all the tea in China, it does amuse me to think of my dildo-harnessed image hanging over his gynecological escapades.

No long post today, because I'm currently obsessed with looking at this site. Yes, I am considering b-b-b-buying a... You know.

That's a very strange thing for an socioeconomic outlaw like me to consider. Real estate. Me. What a concept. Like non-sex-industry jobs, the world of real estate is a world full of strange words, cryptic acronyms and baffling rules. But my mother - who will arrive in Seattle in precisely eight days, tick tock, tick tock - tells me that if I invest in real estate, she'll stop worrying (audibly) about the fact that Max and I aren't married. This is a classic example of how my very dear and beloved maternal parent's mind works. It does make sense, in an odd sort of way. But it takes a blending of the romantic and the practical that is unique to my mother to spontaneously arrive at such a conclusion.

(As a side note: Isn't it sort of sweet though, my mother fretting about my not being married? It's sort of like Countess Bathory's mother worrying about her getting too much iron in her diet.)

Hence my profound interest in real estate in general and this site in particular. It’s very amusing, actually, the way it’s done. I feel very powerful and godlike zooming around in the sky over the city, swooping down on this address or that. I shall enjoy that feeling as long as I can, because I imagine I shall feel substantially less omnipotent when the time comes to start signing things and writing checks.