Okay, can’t we all just sit down, gather around in a circle and hold hands? Obviously, sometimes, relationships between Dommes and clients can be uneasy. Especially with the legal climate as it is in NY- if you are courting a new Domme, her first thought is going to be, “Is this person a cop?”. We may ask you a bunch of questions, and even for references. Please understand that it is only to protect ourselves. But, beyond that, as Domme/client relationships develop over time, there may be broken hearts, disappointed expectations, and a general derision toward the whole interaction.

That said, I would just like to say that clients are people too, and a lot of the time, Dommes do not acknowledge that. Does it go so far that all we see are dollar signs when we look at you? No. But, especially when you are a Domme who has worked in a house, you notice a culture of “other” exists such that clients as a whole are seen as being untrustworthy. This attitude is a defense mechanism devised to categorize you, and to a certain extent, make themselves feel less vulnerable. It’s a dirty little secret that no one wants to talk about, but frankly, it exists in many service industries. It has developed probably because of a combination of factors, both on the client’s part, and our own. It’s too bad, but unfortunately the nature of such random interaction. Maybe this is betraying my own, but I believe it exists in no small part because some Dommes let themselves do things that they are not wholly comfortable with. This is NOT the client’s fault. How are you supposed to know that someone doesn’t like foot worship if they told you ahead of time that they do? Some women are in this business purely for the dollah dollah billz, and not because they love toe kissing. This creates a sharp contrast between their personal lives and their Domme life, and a lot of people have a hard time reconciling this dichotomy. I am an armchair psychologist, but some residual resentment toward “clients” as a group may occur. Again, this is NOT a client’s fault, but merely a missing piece of an understanding of the unsolicited tension.

Some behavior that creates completely solicited tension are: calling me up drunk in the middle of the night, calling me 20+ times a day, not showing up or calling when you can’t make an appointment (is my time less important than yours?), or offering a domme money to perform “extras”- therefore putting the person (who might not be financially stable) in a difficult spot. If you think it’s okay to put someone in that position when you have not negotiated for it ahead of time, you are an asshole. Now, I am not someone who gets their panties all in a twist when asked to perform escort-related activities. I know some people throw a shit-fit when approached like that, and that is their prerogative. However, assuming that someone can be bought is fucked up.

All this aside, it is up to everyone to be fully responsible for themselves and their actions. We’re all adults, aren’t we?

The reason why I brought all of this up, is because I’m pretty tired of all the “US” vs. “them” attitude out there amongst Dommes. It’s too simplistic, it’s too generalized, and it’s wrong. I am currently dating someone who was a client, and he has turned out to be one of the most delightfully charming people I’ve ever been with. Many Dommes are shocked that I would do this, but I don’t feel that I am any more at risk than with any other relationship. I also feel like it is hypocritical in the sense that their boyfriends have probably all been “clients” in one sense or another. Whether at a strip club, a massage parlor, or where ever else.

Koom bi ya, mi lord…

I will also say for the record, if you see a client (who was respectful) outside of the dungeon atmosphere, and you automatically feel threatened or uncomfortable, then maybe you are in the wrong business.

Off Topic:

Booming sound systems in cars are:

annoying

hurt my ears

always playing the exact music that no one who is subjected to it wants to hear

supposedly an indication that you are a thug, but, if you were a real gangsta, wouldn’t you want to keep a low profile so that the whole world can’t hear when you’re rollin in yo 4.0?

xoxo.

P.S. Anyone who subscribes, I’m sorry for the million and a half email alerts you might get, but I gotta edit this shit on my own! And I constantly find little things to improve.

Boys, please! No wonder you need a good whipping!

Some of my favorites:

Microwaved canteloupe with a hole in it
Hand run under a hot faucet
Stuffed animals
A vacuum with hose attachment

and last but not least… a greased up garbage bag?!

I really want to hear the strangest ways any of you have “gotten nice” with yourselves.

Don’t be shy! But it will be used against you…

xoxo.

… Who gives boys enemas!!” A direct quote from one of my more colorful clients, in reference to one of his colleagues. As soon as he said it, I was like, you know I have to write that down, right? He wanted to make sure I kept the enema part in there, although I would have been satisfied just with the title quote. Ah, there are some people who say wild things because they think it’s funny, and some people who just can’t help it.

Speaking of shit, I went to see the new Serrano exhibition on Thursday- huge 8 foot pictures of shit. Literally. Huge, very sensitively and carefully taken photos of shit. Dog shit, human shit, bull shit, slimey shit, dried up shit, shit with little leaves in it, you name it. There were 66 photos to see, apparently, but I could not get myself past the first room. They must have been pumping in the faint smell of shit too, to add to the ‘ambience’. The photos were disgusting, but watching all the SERIOUS critics walk around, examining the things so closely was the real art. No one laughed at all. No surprise, I guess. I read an interview with Serrano where he said he thinks they are tremendously beautiful and groundbreaking… uh, yeah, in a super-hack kind of way. This dude made a million bucks for putting a crucifix in a bottle of piss, and now we are supposed to think he had some huge explosion of inspiration by taking close-ups of shit? He is no better than DJ’s who’ve made a name for themselves by talking shit. He is like the Howard Stern of art, sans the obnoxious need to continually humiliate and gawk at women.

Now that we’re on the topic of coprophilia, I just want to say that a) I don’t get it, and b) I think that it is a whole lot more popular than people think. Judging from what is responded to on Max Fisch the most, I would say that shit is pretty up there as something that people are fascinated by and want to try (as a way to deepen one’s submission?) or are completely repulsed by. I confess I am fascinated by why someone would want to do it, but ultimately, the visceral reality would be too much. Unless someone would want a Roman shower at the same time… ew, double ew.

Anyway, don’t let my “ew’s” discourage you from responding, as I would really like someone to honestly tell me why they love their mistress’s shit so much. Your explanations are better than anything that wikipedia could ever offer.

I was listening to Stevie Wonder today, and sometimes his songs make me think about kid’s tv shows from the late 70’s and 80’s. Perhaps this is a strange connection to make, but he was a featured performer on a lot of children’s shows from that era. If you are familiar with his song “Black Man”, where children are made to call out the names of various important people of color (and non-color) to emphasize the importance all races have had on civilization, perhaps the connection is less strange. To make myself a little clearer, I remember when I was a little kid children’s programming had a particular agenda to encourage racial unity and cohesiveness which kids who grew up after me lack. Sesame Street and Reading Rainbow in particular, I remember, left the more indelible impression that race was simply a color, a part of the beautiful spectrum of diversity of being human.

I grew up in the suburbs and I’m white, so I ate these images up like free Rolos at the movie theater. Perhaps the images encouraged my unawareness of the real problems that existed. They were often treacly-sweet musical montages of children playing together on a swing in bell-bottoms: a boy with a huge afro and a front tooth missing, a little blonde girl with a crooked ponytail- a vision of urban racial utopia. These images were, like the song, part of a desperate struggle to implant these values into kids my age (values which were relatively new and progressive for the time). Reading Rainbow was a little more pragmatic, as LeVar encouraged you to read books explaining in children’s language the story of Harriet Tubman and the America’s (many of which warbled under the weightiness of their own subject matter).

Regardless of the result, the programs were a well-intentioned effort on the part of those who recognized that prejudice starts very young to try to prevent further misguided hatred. I’m sure they knew a television show could never override the opinions you absorb from your parents, but it was sort of a noble thing, I think, to make a concerted effort to indulge the possibility of racial harmony. And in the suburbs when children are really young, and don’t know what the history between the races has been, I guess this is possible. Things change, however, when you get a little older and take a history class…

Perhaps it is noble as well because it’s probably the first time children’s television ever tried to instill anything beyond cleaning behind your ears and washing your hands. The Sesame Street images still evoke feelings of warmth and hopefulness in me, even though I know that they were intentional and more than a little staged. (Unlike Stevie Wonder!!)

Staginess aside, I’m not sure whether someone my age who grew up amid a lot of racial conflict would have seen these images, or what they would have thought of them. My guess is that they probably have a much different perspective in respect to their own personal reality and what they saw on t.v., which of course one comes to realize, is fantasy.

But, I’m not going to pontificate on something I know nothing about. I do, however, know that the reason I like listening to Stevie is not only because it is brilliant fucking pop music, but his voice and his lyrics are embued with a warmth that seems to make any prejudice unfathomable.

Anyway, Happy Labor Day, I’m going to go swing my ass off!

Listen to the song here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pEoE2UQXduA

Bondage lovers not abnormal: sex study

The research showed two per cent of adult Australians regularly partake in sadomasochism and dominance and submission-type sexual role play.

And contrary to commonly-held stereotypes, they are not doing so in reaction to sexual abuse or because they are “sexually deficient” in some way, according the study of 20,000 Australians by public health researchers at the University of NSW.

“Our findings support the idea that bondage and discipline and sadomasochism (BDSM) is simply a sexual interest or subculture attractive to a minority,” Associate Professor Juliet Richters and her colleagues wrote in the Journal of Sexual Medicine.

The findings showed that it was more common among gay, lesbian and bisexual people, and that participants were more likely to have been more sexually adventurous in other ways.

“However, they were no more likely to have been coerced into sexual activity and were not significantly more likely to be unhappy or anxious,” said Prof Richters, author of the book Doing It Down Under.

In fact, men who take part may be happier, with results showing they score significantly lower on a scale of psychological distress than other men.

The researchers did not study why this was, but suspect it might simply be that they’re more in harmony with themselves because they’re into something unusual and are comfortable with that.

Prof Richters says the findings go against professional views of BDSM.

“People with these sexual interests have long been seen by medicine and the law as, at best, damaged and in need of therapy and, at worst, dangerous and in need of legal regulation,” she said.

There was also an assumption, mostly among the general public, that people involved in BDSM were sexually deficient in some way, “and need particularly strong stimuli such as being beaten or tied up to become aroused”.

She said she hoped the results would help change these stereotypes.

© 2008 AAP

This article was found as a link from Mistress Wynter’s Max Fisch Forum to “The Sydney Morning Herald”, dated August 25th/2008 07:00:00 PM.

I am done with parties. Again, I went to a party last night, and wondered why I was there. All the male doms think you want to fuck them, and walk around like peacocks, thinking they are the awesomest players in the world. Ugh. I just hate seeing women let these dickbags hit them. It’s just like- you’re gonna let THAT dude touch you? The blatant unabashed exhibitionism (whether you know what you’re doing or not), slave girls doing their “oooh! ahhh!” writhing against a cross as some dude with a mullet rubs her bottom and tells her she can take more (it wasn’t even a normal mullet, it was the kind where the whole sides of the head are shaved, except for the top, which is really long. I don’t know what that’s called, but it’s a bad look, and if you don’t think so, I suggest trying to find your way out of 1992). Oh! And everyone in their goth uniforms. A dom actually came up to me and said he wanted to see me in latex next time. I was like, fuck you, buddy! There ain’t gonna be a next time- and that’s your loss. This coming from someone who dresses up like a gladiator on the weekends and pretends to sword fight. I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was a dress code for watching fat, badly dressed people who would otherwise be at home playing World of Warcraft hit each other. I really have nothing against fat people. That was mean. But I do have something against people who think they’re vampires. Or werewolves. I don’t know which one is worse. I’m sorry, but if you’re over 40 and you have a custom-made pair of porcelain vampire teeth in your mouth and wear top hats with no shirt on, it might be time to start thinking therapy is an option. Or that you suck. Either one will suffice.

These people are not even the worst part, if you think about it. You also have the people who are there for “promotional purposes”. Ex: this one tiny dude brought a bunch of really tall women who obviously were models or strippers to take pictures of them for his website or for his own jack-off material, who knows. They all walked around with their shitty floggers that they bought at Fantasy World, and let all the men watch as they pinched each other’s nipples. Then there are people who supposedly are dommes, but show up to make connections- which I really can’t lambast too much- but sometimes it is obvious that they are not interested in the scene at all, and walk around glad-handing people until they get tired and go home to their vanilla life.

There are maybe a handful of people who I’m glad to see, who I think could actually teach me something at these parties. Also, my friends seem to enjoy going (I’m not sure why). That alone should be worth it, but now I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth the hassle. I get all dolled up, spend a hundred dollars on I don’t know what, and then come home more than a little dissatisfied or, like this time, pissed off. And I’m not even menstruating!

I guess I’m just tired of everyone reveling in being so damned cliched.

1) Hipsters who wear fedoras. Once upon a time, this was a hat that I really enjoyed seeing on men. It’s classic and sharp, not to mention that one of my ex-boyfriends had a vintage one that made me want to fuck him like crazy every time he wore it. However, it’s been so co-opted by hipsters now that the mere sight of one makes me want to rip it off their heads and stomp on it.

2) That voicemail lady who makes you wait to leave your message when you’re really excited to leave your friends something that’s going to make them crack up. But the lady just keeps fucking talking!! I don’t care that I can press 5 to page them! Who ever does that anyway?! Shut up!

3) Gentrification. I’m white, so I contribute to it automatically by breathing, but still, I hate it. Especially during the summer, when there are a bunch of dumbassed tourists on the subway. And especially when I have to walk near Times Square. And also when I walk through my neighborhood past hipsters with fedoras. Okay, I pretty much hate it constantly.

4) Pink polo shirts. I just can’t convey this enough. They’re worse than gentrification by like, eons. If any pain sluts out there want me to really beat you with every ounce of passion and force that I’ve got, then I would suggest wearing a pink polo shirt and a fedora to session.

Okay, maybe that’s a little hyperbolic, but I think I understand now why certain men love strip joints. Before actually even having gone to one, I thought it would be a place where I would feel uncomfortable, trying to discern exactly whether each and every girl was happy, exploited, or somewhere in between. And to be honest, I sort of did do that to a certain degree last weekend. I suppose it depends on what strip club you go to, but I patronized a pretty representative random sample, which were (in ascending order according to prices): The Pussycat Lounge, NYC Dolls, and The Hustler Club. The price to service ratio is pretty much what you would expect- the more expensive things got, the nicer the venue, and the closer the women resembled a mainstream ideal of beauty. But then, most of you have probably been to strip clubs, so that’s no surprise.

The Pussycat Lounge is a dive, but I have friends who work there, so was hoping to maybe see one of them. We paid ten bucks to get in, and sat ourselves down in front of a woman with a terrific ass. The women do not come close to you at this club, but dance on a stage behind the bar. They have to compete with the ubiquitous televisions, not to mention they don’t have a pole. There is something disheartening about being in a place where people seem disinterested even by the sight of a half-naked woman. I gave the girl with the ass some money, which made her smile, but I didn’t spot any of my friends, and can watch the Mets lose for free at home, so we moved on to…

NYC Dolls. I didn’t have my glasses on when I walked in, so all I could see was a sea of writhing bodies, which I mistook as a giant orgy. Readjusting, I saw that it was simply a sea of women giving lap dances, which I had never seen before in the flesh. A blonde Russian woman came up to me, so I agreed to take a dance. She was like, “Open your legs!”, so I did, and she did her thing for me, which seemed a little mechanical, but was still fun. It was my first dance ever, and I couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face, so I would say she earned her keep. It was fun there, and they serve strong drinks, but ultimately, what got to me were the annoying patrons- one of whom almost sat right on my purse in his drunken idiocy.

After sitting in the Hustler Club for a damned half hour, waiting for a woman to come up to me (having done everything short of waving cash at them) I finally caught the attention of an older stripper (who was gorgeous) calling herself “Tiffany”. I shouted at her, “Can I give you some money?” You can’t really ignore a proposition like that, so she gave me a few lap dances. I didn’t really want three of them, but she was nice and I would take anything at that point. I asked her why none of the girls would come up to us (me and my male friend), and she said that a lot of couples on first dates come there, and the men are usually reluctant to spend a lot of cash. Oh, and also, the women tend to get jealous and upset. This floored me. First of all, that first dates in a strip club are that common, and second of all, that you would agree to go to a strip club and then proceed to get jealous. I had an inkling that a woman who was not “working” could throw off the vibe, but now I knew why (or part of the reason why). She told me not to be shy, to go up to the girl who I wanted a lap dance from, and ask her.

I have to say, all in all, the whole experience is terrifically boring *UNTIL* you find a woman who will come up to you who genuinely seems like she wants to fuck you. Now, I’m not a sucker. At least, I flatter myself that I’m not. I know these girls are trying to make money (the “hustler” in Hustler Club, I assure you, is not referring to the men). But the “art” of stripping is not in how someone looks, or even necessarily how they dance. It’s something else. So- after “Tiffany”, doing some seat-adjusting, getting another drink, and staring at the woman on stage… I spotted a girl at the foot of it who went right up and kissed her, waving dollar bills and cheering her on. I was like, wow, she’s hot, and before I knew it, she was standing above me, between my legs. And then, before I knew it, she was asking me where I’m from, and I was giving her money, and she was grinding on me- not in an “I’m just doing my job” sort of way- but in an engaged, focused way that made me feel kinda funny (in a Wayne’s World sort of way). Now, I’m not a lonely person, I’m not looking to talk to a pretty girl (a la The Tubes), in general, I’m indifferent to women’s bodies- but now I finally understand. She was touching me, grinding on me, whispering in my ear and almost kissing me, but then she did kinda kiss me, but then she was flipping her hair, and then she touched my breasts… I don’t know how many dances there were, but my friend tapped my hand, waking me out of my stupor. We left the club (before I spent more of his dwindling wad of cash) and I floated down the street, grasping his hand, staring wistfully up at the sky. I was like, “Does she like me? Don’t you think she really wanted to fuck me?” He shook his head, smiling, “Maybe, sure.” But really, she totally did.

Whatever notions I had about these women having little agency or control have completely dissipated. Does the club probably take a larger cut than they should? Yes. Are all of the girls there because it’s an empowering environment and they love doing it? Probably not. But regardless, the women do have a lot of power. It was like watching a bunch of Dommes sessioning in the same room, engaged with different clients. I was a client. And it was great.

xoxo.

Also- I need to give a shout out to Jack for giving me tickets to the Stooges concert last weekend. It was the perfect beginning to an awesome vacation.

Every time I go to a porn store there is like a huge wall of it! Obviously, the porn industry is an industry of supply and demand, so this is saying something about the demand. But seriously, what is going on? It can’t simply be for the novelty value.

Is it a way of watching cock-on-cock action with out admitting you are watching gay porn? Are some men so conflicted about how they feel about cock (because let’s face it, it’s not chicks buying this stuff), that they need it with a gender-identified woman to make it okay? This is a similar issue many men have who like “forced bi” scenarios. They need the context of being “forced” into it, so that they can separate themselves from having to confront the possibility that they might not be all that straight. Because hey, if there’s a woman in the room who is forcing you to do it for her own enjoyment, then you’re not really gay, right? But you asked for it, but in the context of the role play, she is making you, but you originally asked for it, but, but…!!! (Unless your mistress really does force you to do it and you don’t ask- that’s different)

Isn’t it possible that you can love cock and want to watch it explode bucketloads of cum all over an ass, and not be G-A-Y? Gayness is a culture, and I don’t think wanting a big fatty in your mouth qualifies you to belong to that culture. For instance, a client will ask me, “Does this make me gay?” I’m just like, “I don’t know, does it?” Ultimately, you make that decision for yourself, and no one can make it for you. Why does it always have to be a black or white question anyway? Who even cares if you’re gay or not? Isn’t it just an umbrella term anyway? Sexuality is so multi-faceted, what is the use in trying to compartmentalize everything? How about, “I love women, but I also love cock.” There should be a name for that, because it’s ubiquitous, and perhaps isolating not to know that one could identify as such. Perhaps that is the real reason why tranny porn is so popular. There are many men who want femininity and also the added bonus of a long, luscious cock. One of my girlfriends who dates a FTM transgender person, said that she likes Him because you get the masculinity without the cock (and the asshole-ishness, but that’s beside the point). Could it be possible that people who love trannies are simply the inverse of that?

In theory, I should find tranny porn pretty hot. However, when I watch it, I always find myself trying to look for the person (or the man) underneath the makeup. I’m not sure why I do that, but inevitably, whenever I can see traces of the biological man peeping through (whether in the thickness of his neck, his jawline, the defined muscularity of his physique) I can’t get turned on by it. This is nothing against trannies, but possibly my own curiosity about the whole pathos behind gender transformation. This, of course, says more about my own preconceived notions about that “pathos”- whether it even exists- but I can’t help projecting an internal struggle onto them, and perhaps that prevents me from being able to objectify them, and hence, jerk off. I watched some vanilla porn the other day, where a biological girl was sucking cock. It didn’t do much for me either, perhaps for similar reasons. Or maybe because vanilla stuff is boring as hell.

I would like to hear from people who love tranny porn. Do you simply find trannies aesthetically pleasing? What other theories do people have? What literature has been written on it, if any?

Also, check out this article by Tristan Taormino in the Voice, which is quite relevant:

http://www.villagevoice.com/2008-07-29/columns/straight-men-who-have-sex-with-men/2

xoxo.