The boy has suggested that I start blogging again. Though I recently hosted my first play party, I haven't had much to say in awhile as far as fetish is concerned ... my heart just really wasn't in it for awhile there, and I think of it all more as a side hobby or something these days. While I'm still able to enjoy certain aspects of it and still want to stay connected to some of the wonderful friends I have in the community, it's not where my focus is. I'm back in school after four years, finishing my psychology degree and have pretty much become "super student" over the last several months, my number one priority being busting my ass to maintain a 4.0 average so I can get scholarships to pay for everything else. My boy's and my relationship is basically vanilla. I've pulled all clearly identifiable photos of myself from any fetish sites and I've stopped shooting videos, though with several tempting offers on the table recently, I may pick it up again in the coming year. Still, the only thing fetish-related that really seems relevant enough to my current life to take the time and energy to blog about it are the pet peeves that cropped up when I spent my time weeding through emails from prospective subbies, many of which reared their ugly heads again in emails from my would-be party attendees. So, here they are -- in the spirit of the movie High Fidelity, and in no particular order -- the top five ways to ensure that Satan will be perfecting his triple lutz before an individual who commits any of the following will get anywhere near me:
1. Name dropping. I've lost count of the number of times some random whom I've never met before has messaged me with a list of other Dommes he knows by way of undoing having made a horrible first impression on me. Most recently, a guy who wanted to attend my party asked around trying to get my personal cell phone number, finally succeeding by implying to a sweet but easily manipulated friend of mine that he had had the number previously and lost it. Everywhere the event description was posted clearly stated that all would-be attendees needed to do was email me their info so I could add them to my mailing list for when I sent out the address of the private location the day before the party. While he did email, he also seemed to be one of those types who wants what they want when they want it, so he felt the need to violate my privacy in addition. When I called him on it and told him that I wasn't comfortable having him because such behavior prevented me from assuring the owner of the space of his ability for discretion, he replied with his list of references. My response? I am not concerned with who you and I may happen to know in common. I am concerned with your present behavior. Seriously, why do they all seem to think second-hand information from others is going to mean shit to me if their first impression sucks?
2. Breaches in confidentiality. This can be seen as a sub-category of name dropping, and can apply to any revelation of confidential information by a sub about another Domme. Most often, I've encountered it from subs who know I've worked with Domme Dietrich and feel the need to refer to her by her vanilla name when mentioning her to me, just to show me how tight they are with her. The fact that I know her real name because she signs it on my checks notwithstanding, scene names exist for a reason, and something like that really makes me lose respect for someone ... I'm sure as hell not gonna feel any inclination to get all "buddy-buddy" and share my personal information with you after something like that.
3. Long-time players who brag about their experience. While I'm not in any way knocking the old-timers as I've met several who are sweet, wonderful, and have been immensely helpful to me in my growth as a Domme, these are the ones who are respectful, humble, and most importantly, who don't feel the need to go on ad nauseam about how experienced they are. The ones who feel the need to brag about it, in my experience, have always been the ones to top from the bottom ... and the worst part of this is, they don't even seem to realize they're doing it; they'll claim how much they loathe topping from the bottom, and truly believe they are simply making "respectful suggestions" when in reality, they are rattling off a laundry list of demands. My first ever experience with a sub was with a guy like this, and I played with one at my party who has emailed me two or three unsolicited "performance review" missives since, basically complaining about all the things he really likes that I didn't do (or didn't do enough of for his liking) during our short scene (mainly more sensual stuff, which call me shallow, but is SO never going to happen between me and the flabby and hairy who emanate the aroma of BO). I finally just said that while it was fun, we probably just have different styles since I've actually found I often prefer the novices, finding them more inclined to allow the Domme her creative license than some of the old-timers who are more "set in their ways" (which I actually thought was a wonderfully tactful way of putting it) he wrote back complaining about my "lack of flexibility." Ha. All I have to say to that one is: Hi, pot. This is kettle. You're black.
4. Violations of my and/or my boy's personal space. The number of times a perfect stranger has found it perfectly acceptable to make excuses to touch me during the course of our conversation is mind-blowing. I've actually flat out told people at events I wouldn't play with them because of that. Ditto anyone touching my boy; one girl once reached down his shirt and actually tweaked his nipple by way of introduction. She's just lucky I had a happy-mellow-drunk-buzz going on at the time, or she would have gotten drop-kicked. Seriously, the scene just allows way too much space for playing with the boundaries of normal social conduct.
5. Condescending male Doms. These are the guys who have the arrogant mentality that female Dommes "just haven't been topped by the right man yet." I found the mentality equally insulting as a queer-identified woman, so this one irks me times two. Again, as in the old-timers example, it's not the case with all male Doms;I count some pretty incredible male Doms among my closest friends. But I do get enough of the occasional "hey little girl" come ons to maintain there are still entirely too many arrogant dudes who strut around like they're God's gift, and who, if that's the case, I would really like to wrap up and stamp "Return to Sender."
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Everything I'm Not
Yes, I realize it has been awhile. Hello to my empty audience! Plenty has happened; sometimes I've even commented "I should blog about this later."
I'd like to say I've simply been too busy living my life to worry about documenting it, but part of me just plain and simple hasn't had the motivation to do so.
When I was in L.A., I met Oriana* a friend of Brooke's who'd apparently been bugging her for months to take her to see the dungeon. Brooke finally relented the night she and I went out with Oriana.
Once there, Oriana - who was a performer in something similar to Cirque du Soleil - decided to show off some her moves by jumping up and swinging by one arm from a spreader bar that was chained to the dungeon ceiling. Of course, the bar wasn't designed to support someone's full weight, the chain pulled out of the ceiling, and Oriana landed flat on her back.
When Brooke said she didn't want Oriana's on again, off again boytoy coming there to pick her up, chaos and drama ensued, culminating in Oriana's screaming at Brooke that if her boy wasn't allowed to come get her, then she needed the paramedics because she might have a punctured lung (Brooke made the valid point that Oriana wouldn't have been able to scream at Brooke if, in fact, she had a punctured lung). At Brooke's reluctance to the notion of a team of paramedics inside her fully equipped private dungeon, Oriana went off on her for "caring more about (her) business than (her) friends, but then what else can you expect from someone who inflicts pain for a living?" Brooke defaulted to anger right away: "Fuck you, Ori! Congratulations, you just made an enemy," but it was obvious that one stung.
A little under a month ago, I was reminded of that incident when my ex - upset at learning of my new relationship status - lashed out by informing me that what I do is "trashy, like maybe a step above a hooker ... do something real." Up until the other day, she was still groveling to get me to give her the time of day. She apologized finally, claiming she didn't mean it. I countered that she should know me better than that because I bust my ass to make sure, first and foremost, that I never feel personally compromised. I'm a snob as far as what clients I'll even see; I'm all about quality over quantity, and if I don't like someone's initial approach, fuck the money, I'm not gonna see 'em ... a fact of which she happens to be well aware since she's been there with me when I've fielded calls from potential clients before. I mean, I know it was just thoughtless immaturity, but it still stung.
The ironic part of all that is the one big conclusion I've reached lately which is that I don't really think I particularly want to be a pro Domme. Between the aggravation of all the legwork, sleazy approaches and atmospheres, houses run by male "Doms" who view themselves as "pimps" to the girls working there ... half the time anymore, I find myself hoping confirmation calls won't come.
Thing is, if I wasn't me, she might have almost had a point. Only almost though. As it is, I'm sticking with the semi-pro part time thing, and lately, I've also been performing at events; two in May, and my third is coming up at the end of this month. Just call me "Belle of the Ballbusters." Or something. Ha.
At the last one, my boy was inspired to attempt his first public play; he was nervous, but did so great. I was really proud of him. And he commented on how well I can read him because apparently the exact moment I chose to check in during our scene was the exact moment he was thinking that he needed to feel me pressed up against him right now. Pretty awesome.
But on the flip side, we have the downfall that because we do read each other so well, sometimes it's way too easy to forget how fresh and new this all is and how much we both still have to learn about each other. So, maybe we're more thrown than we really should be whenever we hit a speedbump and fall off the wheels.
I don't really want to go too in depth, but suffice to say, it's fucking frustrating: "In a moment, I can't remember how to be all you wanted." I like it that I've been able to crash light through as many of his shadows as I have. But there are also going to be those times when I won't have the magic words to make everything better. Times when I'm feeling tapped out because there's only so much need I can fill for another person in any given moment.
But as displayed yesterday, there will also be times when I'm among friends thinking I'm thisclose to just going off if one more person asks me why he's not by my side today (forcing me to further think about the one thing I've been trying to put out of my mind, even if just for the day)... and he'll text me thanking me for a patience I don't feel, and just like that, full circle - or something like it, anyway - suddenly feels within reach once more.
I'd like to say I've simply been too busy living my life to worry about documenting it, but part of me just plain and simple hasn't had the motivation to do so.
When I was in L.A., I met Oriana* a friend of Brooke's who'd apparently been bugging her for months to take her to see the dungeon. Brooke finally relented the night she and I went out with Oriana.
Once there, Oriana - who was a performer in something similar to Cirque du Soleil - decided to show off some her moves by jumping up and swinging by one arm from a spreader bar that was chained to the dungeon ceiling. Of course, the bar wasn't designed to support someone's full weight, the chain pulled out of the ceiling, and Oriana landed flat on her back.
When Brooke said she didn't want Oriana's on again, off again boytoy coming there to pick her up, chaos and drama ensued, culminating in Oriana's screaming at Brooke that if her boy wasn't allowed to come get her, then she needed the paramedics because she might have a punctured lung (Brooke made the valid point that Oriana wouldn't have been able to scream at Brooke if, in fact, she had a punctured lung). At Brooke's reluctance to the notion of a team of paramedics inside her fully equipped private dungeon, Oriana went off on her for "caring more about (her) business than (her) friends, but then what else can you expect from someone who inflicts pain for a living?" Brooke defaulted to anger right away: "Fuck you, Ori! Congratulations, you just made an enemy," but it was obvious that one stung.
A little under a month ago, I was reminded of that incident when my ex - upset at learning of my new relationship status - lashed out by informing me that what I do is "trashy, like maybe a step above a hooker ... do something real." Up until the other day, she was still groveling to get me to give her the time of day. She apologized finally, claiming she didn't mean it. I countered that she should know me better than that because I bust my ass to make sure, first and foremost, that I never feel personally compromised. I'm a snob as far as what clients I'll even see; I'm all about quality over quantity, and if I don't like someone's initial approach, fuck the money, I'm not gonna see 'em ... a fact of which she happens to be well aware since she's been there with me when I've fielded calls from potential clients before. I mean, I know it was just thoughtless immaturity, but it still stung.
The ironic part of all that is the one big conclusion I've reached lately which is that I don't really think I particularly want to be a pro Domme. Between the aggravation of all the legwork, sleazy approaches and atmospheres, houses run by male "Doms" who view themselves as "pimps" to the girls working there ... half the time anymore, I find myself hoping confirmation calls won't come.
Thing is, if I wasn't me, she might have almost had a point. Only almost though. As it is, I'm sticking with the semi-pro part time thing, and lately, I've also been performing at events; two in May, and my third is coming up at the end of this month. Just call me "Belle of the Ballbusters." Or something. Ha.
At the last one, my boy was inspired to attempt his first public play; he was nervous, but did so great. I was really proud of him. And he commented on how well I can read him because apparently the exact moment I chose to check in during our scene was the exact moment he was thinking that he needed to feel me pressed up against him right now. Pretty awesome.
But on the flip side, we have the downfall that because we do read each other so well, sometimes it's way too easy to forget how fresh and new this all is and how much we both still have to learn about each other. So, maybe we're more thrown than we really should be whenever we hit a speedbump and fall off the wheels.
I don't really want to go too in depth, but suffice to say, it's fucking frustrating: "In a moment, I can't remember how to be all you wanted." I like it that I've been able to crash light through as many of his shadows as I have. But there are also going to be those times when I won't have the magic words to make everything better. Times when I'm feeling tapped out because there's only so much need I can fill for another person in any given moment.
But as displayed yesterday, there will also be times when I'm among friends thinking I'm thisclose to just going off if one more person asks me why he's not by my side today (forcing me to further think about the one thing I've been trying to put out of my mind, even if just for the day)... and he'll text me thanking me for a patience I don't feel, and just like that, full circle - or something like it, anyway - suddenly feels within reach once more.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Enjoying the Ride
When I first started learning my way around the community, I heard both Brooke and Derek refer to vanilla people in terms of D/s on separate occasions.
Brooke and I had several "girl talk" nights during which we would stay up late drinking wine, painting our toenails, and trading stories ... and one night, when I told her about an experience I'd had with a guy who had gotten cold feet about "sealing the deal" with me (so to speak) during a vanilla sexual encounter, she responded matter-of-factly, "Well, he had a true slave mindset then, and a true slave never wants to fuck his Mistress." I wasn't really sure how to take that at the time, so my only reaction was to reiterate his "vanilla-ness" for her. Later, I encountered similar responses from Derek when sharing stories with him in which he would peg vanilla people as submissives based on my accounts of my experiences and interactions with them.
I imagine that much of the reasoning behind precisely why these prosaic, black and white classifications of people who weren't in the scene left me ever so slightly unsettled probably had more than a little bit to do with my own strict religious upbringing, against which I've been rebelling for the better part of my life. It all just felt like something of a parallel to that militant, born again Christian line of reasoning that those who don't share their beliefs must automatically fall into the category of "hell-bound." In the same vein, the whole concept of "recruiting" vanillas has always - at least to me - felt on a par with the penchant those same Christians seem to have for constantly trying to force their beliefs on others.
I'm open about who I am and what I do, and if my vanilla friends are curious to learn more about exactly what all that entails for me, I'll answer any questions they might have and tell them anything they want to know. In Sasha's case - after some careful grilling to be sure her interest was genuine and that she had legitimate personal reasons for wanting to pursue the lifestyle (not unlike Derek's approach to me when I first expressed my interest in the scene to him) - I was even willing to show her the ropes, but for me, that was where it ended. When our mutual friend Alex then asked me to train her - primarily because she hoped that topping the boy who had been spending the better part of a year playing with her mind and heart would bond him more closely to her - I was more reluctant to oblige or entertain the notion ... despite the fact that she does, indeed, have some dominant personality traits. As Derek had eventually explained his reasoning behind his own grilling process as applied to me, "This is something that's extremely personal for me, so I wanted to be sure you were sincere and genuine in your desires before I made the decision to usher you into the lifestyle," and I guess I've been applying that same principle where vanillas are concerned.
As far as a scenario in which I might actually find myself coupled with a vanilla partner, personally, all I've ever really hoped for was acceptance and understanding (something I haven’t always gotten in the past) ... but given my upbringing, I'm also categorically opposed to forcing my beliefs on anyone. So I guess the most recent development in my story so far could just be viewed as yet another example of that whole "where you least expect it" theory that seems to apply to so many aspects of life. Either way, it's been nothing short of amazing so far.
So... the back story behind all that is: I've recently come into contact with this boy. We (meaning he and I, not my split personalities and I) have decided that for the purposes of this blog, I'm going to be calling him Jack.*
We hit it off pretty quickly ... though since he was vanilla, I was a little bit nervous about broaching that whole subject of, "I'm also known as Mistress Kay in some circles." I mean, I wasn't too too worried; he seemed cool and open-minded enough, and he's no stranger to bucking convention himself ... but initially, I guess there's always that little okay so this person seems really great and I really hope this isn't gonna scare them off smidgen of concern.
Well, not only was Jack not scared off, his first response was to inform me of a local dungeon where he had just so happened to have heard that monthly parties are held (he had been there once with a friend who had been buying a flogger, ostensibly for the purpose of spicing things up with his boyfriend, and the owner had given them her promoting spiel), and then to say that as long as I didn't mind his being shy and quiet and hiding out in the corner silently observing, he wouldn't mind going to check it out with me sometime.
Apparently, my reaction to that was an offhanded comment along the lines of, "Sure, no problem. I can just tell people that you're with me and I gave you a speech restriction," something I immediately forgot I had even said ... at least until a few days later when Jack called me, reminding me of it and informing me that he'd been thinking about it and was curious about maybe trying it out and seeing what it was like sometime.
I gave him the same grilling as everyone else, making sure he had his own reasons to back up this newfound curiosity ... namely reasons that didn't have anything to do with his interest in me or our rapidly deepening connection.
Now, a couple short weeks or so later, a confirmation of pure intentions finds him under my protection, beginning to attend munches with me as my boy, and just completely blowing me away in general in new ways every day ... without even realizing he's doing it. Which, really? Is pretty much the best way to do it anyway.
In hindsight, the signs were all there ... I was kinda subconsciously topping him in little ways from day one (hey, someone's gotta take control of a situation sometimes, and I've frequently wound up being that person, so is it really my fault if it's become a conditioned response at this point?). Not to mention the number of times we've inadvertently (and, I suppose one might argue, even almost instinctively) found ourselves engaging in some of the most intense and absolutely incredible power exchanges I've ever experienced.
I've previously touched on my tendencies for beating around the bush, dressing everything up in metaphors, speaking in riddles, and disclaimer-ing absolutely everything to death wherever relationship stuff is concerned. And maybe instinct plays a part in that, too. Maybe every time I've previously only selectively shown myself to someone - ever the open book with certain pages carefully torn out and tucked into my cleavage ... and God help anyone who would ever dream of even attempting to dive in there for them uninvited - it was simply a case of somehow subconsciously knowing better, knowing on some instinctive level that maybe this person wasn't quite "it ..." either because they wouldn't fully understand, or because for whatever reason, they just simply weren't entirely worthy of it, of me. But with Jack, I've had no such hangups. And the best part is, he actually gives me the opportunity to return the favor, sharing himself with me just as openly and honestly as I share myself with him.
And I don't want to jinx it, but I really think it's safe to say that the days of bullshit have ended for me. Last night, showing him off to my lifestyle friends at a munch, I was proudly and excitedly gushing about the lack of "training" that even seems to be required here, in contrast with some of my past experiences: Jack is respectful, attentive to my needs, in regular contact with me ... and he even asked permission before calling me by pet names (kind of a huge thing for me lately since my decision not to maintain the whole "Domme bitch" persona has gone hand in hand with a serious lack of respect and entirely too much familiarity from some subs).
"You mean he actually has manners?" my friend Xani asked with a smirk and in the most priceless tone of mock incredulity once I was done gushing, "Wow, imagine that!"
"I know, what a concept, right?" Derek chimed in, laughing.
Sadly, though, it is quite a concept for me in this particular instance. But (knocking wood, fingers crossed, and all that jazz), I think it's actually finally safe to say that I am now officially onto bigger and better things ... 'cause really? This is what it's all about.
I mean, logically speaking, I know that right here and now, everything is fresh and shiny and new and exciting, and when you're so caught up in just enjoying the ride and the rush of all that, that's when it's easiest to gush and be exhilarated and say these kinds of things.
But at the end of the day? Bottom line, this is exactly what I wanted ... and then some. And I'm loving the ride so far.
Brooke and I had several "girl talk" nights during which we would stay up late drinking wine, painting our toenails, and trading stories ... and one night, when I told her about an experience I'd had with a guy who had gotten cold feet about "sealing the deal" with me (so to speak) during a vanilla sexual encounter, she responded matter-of-factly, "Well, he had a true slave mindset then, and a true slave never wants to fuck his Mistress." I wasn't really sure how to take that at the time, so my only reaction was to reiterate his "vanilla-ness" for her. Later, I encountered similar responses from Derek when sharing stories with him in which he would peg vanilla people as submissives based on my accounts of my experiences and interactions with them.
I imagine that much of the reasoning behind precisely why these prosaic, black and white classifications of people who weren't in the scene left me ever so slightly unsettled probably had more than a little bit to do with my own strict religious upbringing, against which I've been rebelling for the better part of my life. It all just felt like something of a parallel to that militant, born again Christian line of reasoning that those who don't share their beliefs must automatically fall into the category of "hell-bound." In the same vein, the whole concept of "recruiting" vanillas has always - at least to me - felt on a par with the penchant those same Christians seem to have for constantly trying to force their beliefs on others.
I'm open about who I am and what I do, and if my vanilla friends are curious to learn more about exactly what all that entails for me, I'll answer any questions they might have and tell them anything they want to know. In Sasha's case - after some careful grilling to be sure her interest was genuine and that she had legitimate personal reasons for wanting to pursue the lifestyle (not unlike Derek's approach to me when I first expressed my interest in the scene to him) - I was even willing to show her the ropes, but for me, that was where it ended. When our mutual friend Alex then asked me to train her - primarily because she hoped that topping the boy who had been spending the better part of a year playing with her mind and heart would bond him more closely to her - I was more reluctant to oblige or entertain the notion ... despite the fact that she does, indeed, have some dominant personality traits. As Derek had eventually explained his reasoning behind his own grilling process as applied to me, "This is something that's extremely personal for me, so I wanted to be sure you were sincere and genuine in your desires before I made the decision to usher you into the lifestyle," and I guess I've been applying that same principle where vanillas are concerned.
As far as a scenario in which I might actually find myself coupled with a vanilla partner, personally, all I've ever really hoped for was acceptance and understanding (something I haven’t always gotten in the past) ... but given my upbringing, I'm also categorically opposed to forcing my beliefs on anyone. So I guess the most recent development in my story so far could just be viewed as yet another example of that whole "where you least expect it" theory that seems to apply to so many aspects of life. Either way, it's been nothing short of amazing so far.
So... the back story behind all that is: I've recently come into contact with this boy. We (meaning he and I, not my split personalities and I) have decided that for the purposes of this blog, I'm going to be calling him Jack.*
We hit it off pretty quickly ... though since he was vanilla, I was a little bit nervous about broaching that whole subject of, "I'm also known as Mistress Kay in some circles." I mean, I wasn't too too worried; he seemed cool and open-minded enough, and he's no stranger to bucking convention himself ... but initially, I guess there's always that little okay so this person seems really great and I really hope this isn't gonna scare them off smidgen of concern.
Well, not only was Jack not scared off, his first response was to inform me of a local dungeon where he had just so happened to have heard that monthly parties are held (he had been there once with a friend who had been buying a flogger, ostensibly for the purpose of spicing things up with his boyfriend, and the owner had given them her promoting spiel), and then to say that as long as I didn't mind his being shy and quiet and hiding out in the corner silently observing, he wouldn't mind going to check it out with me sometime.
Apparently, my reaction to that was an offhanded comment along the lines of, "Sure, no problem. I can just tell people that you're with me and I gave you a speech restriction," something I immediately forgot I had even said ... at least until a few days later when Jack called me, reminding me of it and informing me that he'd been thinking about it and was curious about maybe trying it out and seeing what it was like sometime.
I gave him the same grilling as everyone else, making sure he had his own reasons to back up this newfound curiosity ... namely reasons that didn't have anything to do with his interest in me or our rapidly deepening connection.
Now, a couple short weeks or so later, a confirmation of pure intentions finds him under my protection, beginning to attend munches with me as my boy, and just completely blowing me away in general in new ways every day ... without even realizing he's doing it. Which, really? Is pretty much the best way to do it anyway.
In hindsight, the signs were all there ... I was kinda subconsciously topping him in little ways from day one (hey, someone's gotta take control of a situation sometimes, and I've frequently wound up being that person, so is it really my fault if it's become a conditioned response at this point?). Not to mention the number of times we've inadvertently (and, I suppose one might argue, even almost instinctively) found ourselves engaging in some of the most intense and absolutely incredible power exchanges I've ever experienced.
I've previously touched on my tendencies for beating around the bush, dressing everything up in metaphors, speaking in riddles, and disclaimer-ing absolutely everything to death wherever relationship stuff is concerned. And maybe instinct plays a part in that, too. Maybe every time I've previously only selectively shown myself to someone - ever the open book with certain pages carefully torn out and tucked into my cleavage ... and God help anyone who would ever dream of even attempting to dive in there for them uninvited - it was simply a case of somehow subconsciously knowing better, knowing on some instinctive level that maybe this person wasn't quite "it ..." either because they wouldn't fully understand, or because for whatever reason, they just simply weren't entirely worthy of it, of me. But with Jack, I've had no such hangups. And the best part is, he actually gives me the opportunity to return the favor, sharing himself with me just as openly and honestly as I share myself with him.
And I don't want to jinx it, but I really think it's safe to say that the days of bullshit have ended for me. Last night, showing him off to my lifestyle friends at a munch, I was proudly and excitedly gushing about the lack of "training" that even seems to be required here, in contrast with some of my past experiences: Jack is respectful, attentive to my needs, in regular contact with me ... and he even asked permission before calling me by pet names (kind of a huge thing for me lately since my decision not to maintain the whole "Domme bitch" persona has gone hand in hand with a serious lack of respect and entirely too much familiarity from some subs).
"You mean he actually has manners?" my friend Xani asked with a smirk and in the most priceless tone of mock incredulity once I was done gushing, "Wow, imagine that!"
"I know, what a concept, right?" Derek chimed in, laughing.
Sadly, though, it is quite a concept for me in this particular instance. But (knocking wood, fingers crossed, and all that jazz), I think it's actually finally safe to say that I am now officially onto bigger and better things ... 'cause really? This is what it's all about.
I mean, logically speaking, I know that right here and now, everything is fresh and shiny and new and exciting, and when you're so caught up in just enjoying the ride and the rush of all that, that's when it's easiest to gush and be exhilarated and say these kinds of things.
But at the end of the day? Bottom line, this is exactly what I wanted ... and then some. And I'm loving the ride so far.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Flying Blind
I've kinda felt like I've been on overload or something lately for no particular reason. More people have been starting to know who I am lately, so maybe that's it. And maybe part of me was just hoping for a little more time to figure out and define exactly who that was. But I think I've come up with some pretty good stuff so far.
I had a request for a session recently with a guy who had seen my clips from my shoot with Trey. The whole thing was pretty last minute; the woman who ran the shoot and the space called me the night before and said that a regular of hers really wanted to session with me after seeing my clips but the only time he was available was the next evening at seven PM. I was a little dubious going in given the nature of that particular shoot, coupled with the fact that she didn't really have any specific details for me; the only direction she gave me was "light domination like foot worship, trampling, light spanking, and maybe some facesitting if you're comfortable with that." Well, that last one is an extremely rare event for me in general, and frankly, I wasn't sure how I was going to come up with an hour's worth of material based on the rest of it. But she assured me that the client was really great and that she'd known him for years, and ultimately, I wound up agreeing, figuring I'd try to pick her brain for a little more info once I got there.
"So, what's his story? What makes him tick?" I asked as I changed into the thong and bra she had provided for me (way less than I'd ever worn for a r/t session before in my life, but since she'd told me not to worry about bringing anything because they had everything there, I was kinda S.O.L.).
The only new info she gave me before rattling off his list of fetishes again was that his name was Billy* (something about grown men who still use the little boy version of their names like that has always kinda bothered me) and that he did something for a music production company and was constantly going back and forth between New York and L.A. Well, that and "don't be too mean because it's really just light domination."
Okay. So clearly I was to be flying blind here and just crossing my fingers for a smooth landing.
As it turned out though, the not knowing what to expect element really made me appreciate the experience. Billy was an absolute sweetheart, clean cut, respectful, well-mannered, and frankly, I think he would have been perfectly content to have spent the entire hour just talking and massaging my feet. He couldn't really take much (even the light spanking was too much for him, and much as he wanted to experience the trampling, he freaked out every time I tried to put my weight on him), and kept apologizing for it saying he "felt bad because (he) didn't want (me) to be bored." So after some cutesy, playful banter, (ie: "Aw... really, that hurts? But you're not even pink!" and "You really can't handle tiny, little 98 pound me?"), I improvised and just went with psychological bondage and sensation play, making things up as I went along. And with what felt like ridiculously minimal effort on my part, he went right into subspace. Which was a pretty cool feeling.
Anyway, I've never been that particular brand of energized after a session before, so I think I'm gonna be going with that whole cutesy, playful bit a lot more. Plus, the contrast of still maintaining that while upping the ante on someone who can take more should be a lot of fun, and I'm amazed something so simple didn't occur to me earlier.
And really? If I don't enjoy someone enough to share that kind of dynamic with them, I probably don't want to scene with them in the first place.
This, among other things, was something I discussed with Trey in an unexpected heart to heart the other day. He had contacted me to ask if I would mind if he were to do a forced bi session with another Mistress, and if not, would I want to be there for it or anything like that? He explained that he wanted to ask my permission first because he respects me and my knowledge of the scene, trusts my judgment, and feels attached to me ... even though he knows I don't formally own him. Which I found unbelievably sweet ... better than I've gotten from a few who shall remain nameless where there actually was some level of "formal attachment," and I told him as much ... though I was also sure to add that I didn't really see any reason why I would need to be there.
Anyway, all this escalated to his saying that even if I wasn't actually there, he wants to know that anything he explores fetish-wise is something I'm into. Which brought us to the whole "I want my subs to have their own interests and desires" theme of my last post, and me telling him that I would never want him to limit his own experiences in his journey because of his connection with me, and that ultimately, that would be limiting for both of us because we wouldn't be able to learn from each other the same way. This was another one of those right off the cuff moments where I say something out loud that I've never thought about before and it turns out to be something I actually really believe in. Those are a little bit awesome.
So I guess I've been doing a pretty respectable job with all this flying blind business I've had going on these days ... and y'know something? I'm actually kinda proud of myself for that.
I had a request for a session recently with a guy who had seen my clips from my shoot with Trey. The whole thing was pretty last minute; the woman who ran the shoot and the space called me the night before and said that a regular of hers really wanted to session with me after seeing my clips but the only time he was available was the next evening at seven PM. I was a little dubious going in given the nature of that particular shoot, coupled with the fact that she didn't really have any specific details for me; the only direction she gave me was "light domination like foot worship, trampling, light spanking, and maybe some facesitting if you're comfortable with that." Well, that last one is an extremely rare event for me in general, and frankly, I wasn't sure how I was going to come up with an hour's worth of material based on the rest of it. But she assured me that the client was really great and that she'd known him for years, and ultimately, I wound up agreeing, figuring I'd try to pick her brain for a little more info once I got there.
"So, what's his story? What makes him tick?" I asked as I changed into the thong and bra she had provided for me (way less than I'd ever worn for a r/t session before in my life, but since she'd told me not to worry about bringing anything because they had everything there, I was kinda S.O.L.).
The only new info she gave me before rattling off his list of fetishes again was that his name was Billy* (something about grown men who still use the little boy version of their names like that has always kinda bothered me) and that he did something for a music production company and was constantly going back and forth between New York and L.A. Well, that and "don't be too mean because it's really just light domination."
Okay. So clearly I was to be flying blind here and just crossing my fingers for a smooth landing.
As it turned out though, the not knowing what to expect element really made me appreciate the experience. Billy was an absolute sweetheart, clean cut, respectful, well-mannered, and frankly, I think he would have been perfectly content to have spent the entire hour just talking and massaging my feet. He couldn't really take much (even the light spanking was too much for him, and much as he wanted to experience the trampling, he freaked out every time I tried to put my weight on him), and kept apologizing for it saying he "felt bad because (he) didn't want (me) to be bored." So after some cutesy, playful banter, (ie: "Aw... really, that hurts? But you're not even pink!" and "You really can't handle tiny, little 98 pound me?"), I improvised and just went with psychological bondage and sensation play, making things up as I went along. And with what felt like ridiculously minimal effort on my part, he went right into subspace. Which was a pretty cool feeling.
Anyway, I've never been that particular brand of energized after a session before, so I think I'm gonna be going with that whole cutesy, playful bit a lot more. Plus, the contrast of still maintaining that while upping the ante on someone who can take more should be a lot of fun, and I'm amazed something so simple didn't occur to me earlier.
And really? If I don't enjoy someone enough to share that kind of dynamic with them, I probably don't want to scene with them in the first place.
This, among other things, was something I discussed with Trey in an unexpected heart to heart the other day. He had contacted me to ask if I would mind if he were to do a forced bi session with another Mistress, and if not, would I want to be there for it or anything like that? He explained that he wanted to ask my permission first because he respects me and my knowledge of the scene, trusts my judgment, and feels attached to me ... even though he knows I don't formally own him. Which I found unbelievably sweet ... better than I've gotten from a few who shall remain nameless where there actually was some level of "formal attachment," and I told him as much ... though I was also sure to add that I didn't really see any reason why I would need to be there.
Anyway, all this escalated to his saying that even if I wasn't actually there, he wants to know that anything he explores fetish-wise is something I'm into. Which brought us to the whole "I want my subs to have their own interests and desires" theme of my last post, and me telling him that I would never want him to limit his own experiences in his journey because of his connection with me, and that ultimately, that would be limiting for both of us because we wouldn't be able to learn from each other the same way. This was another one of those right off the cuff moments where I say something out loud that I've never thought about before and it turns out to be something I actually really believe in. Those are a little bit awesome.
So I guess I've been doing a pretty respectable job with all this flying blind business I've had going on these days ... and y'know something? I'm actually kinda proud of myself for that.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
All I Want is Everything
I have recently come to the realization that I am an insufferable snob. Actually, I take that back. On some level, I think I've always known as much.
But last night, when I finally spoke to the guy from my last post after screening him all weekend, it pretty much solidified things for me. In a good way.
It was actually a surprisingly good conversation. I was in an especially candid mood, so when he once again brought up his desire to be owned by me, I put him on the spot about it. Nicely. I didn't say, "Why in the world would you want to be owned by someone who can barely stand you?" or anything like that. It was a tactful candor, and I was feeling pretty mellow. I asked him why he specifically wanted me to own him when he's mentioned to me before that several other Mistresses have actually expressed an interest in owning him.
This was a favorite trick of Tool's, too... telling me how in demand he was, but that he only wanted to serve me. I don't know if it was some juvenile "make you jealous" tactic or something like that; frankly, I never really paid much attention to it, and I took the same track with this guy. Unlike Tool, however, he's cute and young and it's more within the realm of possibility... if the challenge of a mouthy sub happened to be what someone was into.
"It seems like you keep coming back to this, and I'm just curious as to what it is about me specifically. Didn't you tell me there were a bunch of other Mistresses who wanted to collar you?"
While a bit vague, his response seemed legitimate. Something along the lines of how a lot of girls in the scene are flaky, and I'm the most genuine girl he's come across. "Plus, you're really cool."
It really kinda made me feel bad that the sentiment wasn't more mutual. "Well, thank you," I said, "I just wondered what your reasoning was behind it since we don't really share any of the same interests fetish-wise or anything, y'know? I wouldn't want someone to have to completely change everything about themselves, so I thought maybe you'd be better off with someone who shared more of the same interests as you was all. Compatibility's a big thing for me, and while it's flattering and all, I wouldn't really feel right asking someone to give up what they're into just to fit into some mold for me."
This wasn't really anything I'd ever thought too in-depth about before - in fact, it was all right off the cuff - but as I said it ... I realized it was something I actually really believed in. Maybe it's not especially "Domme-like" of me, and I certainly support the whole idea of taking someone's fetishes into account, but ultimately, it's my scene, my rules, and I control everything that happens. And I've found that I definitely get off on the power exchange of someone being willing to do something solely to please me (ie: a non-masochist taking pain as Nate did at Suspension or the day John finally caved on the whole forced-cum-feeding thing), but on the flip side ... I also really do believe in having at least some common ground as well. It just seems like setting yourself up for failure otherwise.
"Well, I just want to do whatever the girl's into. It's more about making you happy," he replied, "I mean, obviously we'd need to get to know each other better first."
"Right, of course," I agreed, "And as of right now, I wouldn't rule out having you as a video sub, but as far as anything else, I'm not sure you really understand what you're up against when you're saying you want to be owned by me."
"What do you mean?" That was all I needed; that simple question was the shotgun blast opening of the starting gates, and I was off.
"I'm pretty much the 'all I want is everything' girl," I began (no idea where that one came from, but I dug it anyway, so I went with it), "I want the total package. Respect, reliability ... all those things I listed for you the other day. And then some. I don't own anyone right now, and I'm completely okay with that because, bottom line, I'm not going to settle for anything less than everything, and I'm not going to lead someone on if they don't completely fit my definition of that."
And I could be wrong, but I think that little speech may have watered his respect gene a bit ... at least where I'm concerned.
Either way, it definitely pumped me up. I guess it's true that we learn something new every day, and those lessons are often found in the places where we least expect them. Less than a week ago, if anyone had told me I would inadvertently learn so much about myself over the course of a twenty minute phone conversation with this particular guy, of all people, I would have laughed in their faces. But then again, I suppose stranger things have happened.
But last night, when I finally spoke to the guy from my last post after screening him all weekend, it pretty much solidified things for me. In a good way.
It was actually a surprisingly good conversation. I was in an especially candid mood, so when he once again brought up his desire to be owned by me, I put him on the spot about it. Nicely. I didn't say, "Why in the world would you want to be owned by someone who can barely stand you?" or anything like that. It was a tactful candor, and I was feeling pretty mellow. I asked him why he specifically wanted me to own him when he's mentioned to me before that several other Mistresses have actually expressed an interest in owning him.
This was a favorite trick of Tool's, too... telling me how in demand he was, but that he only wanted to serve me. I don't know if it was some juvenile "make you jealous" tactic or something like that; frankly, I never really paid much attention to it, and I took the same track with this guy. Unlike Tool, however, he's cute and young and it's more within the realm of possibility... if the challenge of a mouthy sub happened to be what someone was into.
"It seems like you keep coming back to this, and I'm just curious as to what it is about me specifically. Didn't you tell me there were a bunch of other Mistresses who wanted to collar you?"
While a bit vague, his response seemed legitimate. Something along the lines of how a lot of girls in the scene are flaky, and I'm the most genuine girl he's come across. "Plus, you're really cool."
It really kinda made me feel bad that the sentiment wasn't more mutual. "Well, thank you," I said, "I just wondered what your reasoning was behind it since we don't really share any of the same interests fetish-wise or anything, y'know? I wouldn't want someone to have to completely change everything about themselves, so I thought maybe you'd be better off with someone who shared more of the same interests as you was all. Compatibility's a big thing for me, and while it's flattering and all, I wouldn't really feel right asking someone to give up what they're into just to fit into some mold for me."
This wasn't really anything I'd ever thought too in-depth about before - in fact, it was all right off the cuff - but as I said it ... I realized it was something I actually really believed in. Maybe it's not especially "Domme-like" of me, and I certainly support the whole idea of taking someone's fetishes into account, but ultimately, it's my scene, my rules, and I control everything that happens. And I've found that I definitely get off on the power exchange of someone being willing to do something solely to please me (ie: a non-masochist taking pain as Nate did at Suspension or the day John finally caved on the whole forced-cum-feeding thing), but on the flip side ... I also really do believe in having at least some common ground as well. It just seems like setting yourself up for failure otherwise.
"Well, I just want to do whatever the girl's into. It's more about making you happy," he replied, "I mean, obviously we'd need to get to know each other better first."
"Right, of course," I agreed, "And as of right now, I wouldn't rule out having you as a video sub, but as far as anything else, I'm not sure you really understand what you're up against when you're saying you want to be owned by me."
"What do you mean?" That was all I needed; that simple question was the shotgun blast opening of the starting gates, and I was off.
"I'm pretty much the 'all I want is everything' girl," I began (no idea where that one came from, but I dug it anyway, so I went with it), "I want the total package. Respect, reliability ... all those things I listed for you the other day. And then some. I don't own anyone right now, and I'm completely okay with that because, bottom line, I'm not going to settle for anything less than everything, and I'm not going to lead someone on if they don't completely fit my definition of that."
And I could be wrong, but I think that little speech may have watered his respect gene a bit ... at least where I'm concerned.
Either way, it definitely pumped me up. I guess it's true that we learn something new every day, and those lessons are often found in the places where we least expect them. Less than a week ago, if anyone had told me I would inadvertently learn so much about myself over the course of a twenty minute phone conversation with this particular guy, of all people, I would have laughed in their faces. But then again, I suppose stranger things have happened.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
"Strange Birds" and the Places We Go...
As I sat here shaking my head in amazement at a conversation that transpired earlier, I had this inexplicable compulsion to Google search a rhyme I probably haven't thought about in at least fifteen to twenty years. And oddly enough ... it summed up the circumstances quite aptly.
"You'll look up and down streets, look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, 'I don't choose to go there.'
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
You're too smart to go down any not-so-good street...
Out there things can happen and frequently do
To people as brainy and footsy as you.
And when things start to happen, don't worry, don't stew.
Just go right along; you'll start happening too.
Oh, the places you’ll go ...
You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know.
You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step, step with care and great tact
And remember that life's a great balancing act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left... (Dr. Seuss)"
Back story, I met a guy on a shoot awhile back for whom I don't think I'm even gonna bother making up an alias. Damn near everything about him rubbed me the wrong way from day one: he was pushy, mouthy, copped attitude at the drop of a hat, and even went so far as violating my personal space when the cameras weren't rolling. Not my cup of tea by any stretch of the imagination, and we didn't really even share any interests fetish-wise. Not to mention he seemed utterly clueless as to how his behavior came across; immediately following the personal space violation portion of the evening, he blithely informed me that he was looking for a Mistress to own him in a lifestyle capacity and that since he was pretty sure I was on his myspace friends list, he would message me there to discuss further.
Much as my knee jerk response wanted to brush him off completely when he did just that, I had gathered that he was a personal friend of the pro-Domme running the shoot... and in the interest of not blowing my chances for future shoots with her, I opted for the "care and tact" response to her "strange bird" friend and corresponded with him sporadically, being polite while keeping him at arm's length.
About a month or so ago when I was freshly unemployed and had just moved back in with the parents, he messaged me with a little proposition: what if he and I joined forces and advertised for shoots together? Since he already had an account on craigslist, he would do all the work; he had actually done this for a Mistress before and made her a lot of money. All I had to do was trek out to his place in Brooklyn so we could take some pictures, and if I wouldn't mind maybe doing some strap on training with him while we were at it so he could increase his repertoire and thereby get us more work because that was one of the areas that was holding him back personally, that would be just wonderful.
I agreed. The day began with aggravation thanks to his crap directions combined with the facts that I had never been to Brooklyn before and can't find my way out of a paper bag as it is. And as he was completely rude and unhelpful when I called him, I hung up on him and ended up calling my friend Patrick at work. Though swamped that day, Patrick got right on his computer so he could figure out where I was and help me navigate the subway system. Five minutes into this, I informed Patrick that it would be really great if he took a break from lawyering to come meet me for lunch so I could just ditch this guy without having wasted a trip to the city. Ever practical, once I had explained the details of the situation to him, Patrick talked me into going out there because, much as he would have liked to see me, this could potentially be beneficial for my career.
So I did. It wasn't so awful once I got there, though he was completely unprepared for the strap-on training. And by unprepared, I mean no harness, no gloves, no lube ... just a grimy looking dildo with some fuzz from the carpet stuck to it and a couple butt plugs. Suffice to say, the strap-on training didn't even happen. We just ended up taking our pictures and talking a little ... a talk that did cause my original contempt for him to wane ever so slightly. And he predicted that he would have work for us by the following week, so at least by the time I left that day, I didn't feel my time had been completely wasted.
When I followed up with him the next week, he told me he had a few leads but no confirmations. Then silence, but since I was a bit distracted by my John saga, I pretty much forgot about it. Today, after a couple one line myspace messages over the past week, the first of which I ignored because it contained only the word "Call" and a phone number, the second asking if I could call him to discuss a possible session, we reconnected. Below is a transcription of the lovely conversation. Some of it has been modified in the interest of coherence. An ellipsis (...) denotes moments in which I didn't feel the need to dignify certain comments with a response. There were several.
Me: Did you lose my number? For future reference, this is it so you don't have to resort to cryptic myspace messages.
Him: Lol, sorry, I got a new phone.
*Insert banal pleasantries here*
Me: Ok, so what's up with this session business?
Him: I have five clients set up for me but still never got to train. I put it out to all my Domme friends; the first Domme to train me gets the session.
Me: ...
Him: Let me know.
Me: Well, I really can't afford to just trek out to Brooklyn right now if it's not for actual work.
Him: Once I make my asshole into a pussy, it will be better.
Me: ...
Him: I think I can get you a shoot.
Me: Wow, really? And only a month and change later!
Him: Well, you never trained me, Goddess.
(Side note: Maybe part of it's my past with Tool, but I really hate when guys just use any old title they feel like. I didn't specifically pick Mistress Kay for my health.)
Me: Because you weren't prepared with any of the necessary equipment for me to do so, if memory serves, so don't even try giving me that crap.
Him: Understood, Queen.
Me: ...
(I seriously think he used every honorific but the one I've chosen for myself.)
Him: I am just a sissy slut... I want you to own me. You could even stay here when you need.
Me: I've had subs before who haven't followed through on their agreements with me, and that's not something I want or need again. If you seriously want me to consider you, prove to me that you're reliable.
Him: Like I said, you can stay here rent free and pimp me.
Me: Okay. But that's not what I want out of owning someone.
Him: What do you want, Queen?
Me: Well, to name a few things ... someone who's respectful at all times, someone who's a man of his word, and someone who can take pain for me or is at least willing to build up a tolerance. Frankly, you have a long way to go.
Him: I will do anything to be your sub, period.
Me: That's very nice to hear. Now why don't you take some time to figure out exactly how you plan to go about backing up those pretty words with your actions. Then we can talk.
Him: Did I tell you I started cross dressing?
Me: Nope. But can you explain what the appeal of that is for you? It's never really been my kink, and I've been trying to get a decent perspective on it from someone who's into it so I can understand it better.
Him: My goal is to be a cross dressing cum dumpster in film.
At that point, since my dinner was ready, I decided that my goal was to eat it in peace and stop talking to him for the evening ... particularly since I had lost count of how many non-answers to specific questions we were up to at that point. So I did. Seriously though ... what the fuck?
"You'll look up and down streets, look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, 'I don't choose to go there.'
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
You're too smart to go down any not-so-good street...
Out there things can happen and frequently do
To people as brainy and footsy as you.
And when things start to happen, don't worry, don't stew.
Just go right along; you'll start happening too.
Oh, the places you’ll go ...
You'll get mixed up, of course, as you already know.
You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step, step with care and great tact
And remember that life's a great balancing act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left... (Dr. Seuss)"
Back story, I met a guy on a shoot awhile back for whom I don't think I'm even gonna bother making up an alias. Damn near everything about him rubbed me the wrong way from day one: he was pushy, mouthy, copped attitude at the drop of a hat, and even went so far as violating my personal space when the cameras weren't rolling. Not my cup of tea by any stretch of the imagination, and we didn't really even share any interests fetish-wise. Not to mention he seemed utterly clueless as to how his behavior came across; immediately following the personal space violation portion of the evening, he blithely informed me that he was looking for a Mistress to own him in a lifestyle capacity and that since he was pretty sure I was on his myspace friends list, he would message me there to discuss further.
Much as my knee jerk response wanted to brush him off completely when he did just that, I had gathered that he was a personal friend of the pro-Domme running the shoot... and in the interest of not blowing my chances for future shoots with her, I opted for the "care and tact" response to her "strange bird" friend and corresponded with him sporadically, being polite while keeping him at arm's length.
About a month or so ago when I was freshly unemployed and had just moved back in with the parents, he messaged me with a little proposition: what if he and I joined forces and advertised for shoots together? Since he already had an account on craigslist, he would do all the work; he had actually done this for a Mistress before and made her a lot of money. All I had to do was trek out to his place in Brooklyn so we could take some pictures, and if I wouldn't mind maybe doing some strap on training with him while we were at it so he could increase his repertoire and thereby get us more work because that was one of the areas that was holding him back personally, that would be just wonderful.
I agreed. The day began with aggravation thanks to his crap directions combined with the facts that I had never been to Brooklyn before and can't find my way out of a paper bag as it is. And as he was completely rude and unhelpful when I called him, I hung up on him and ended up calling my friend Patrick at work. Though swamped that day, Patrick got right on his computer so he could figure out where I was and help me navigate the subway system. Five minutes into this, I informed Patrick that it would be really great if he took a break from lawyering to come meet me for lunch so I could just ditch this guy without having wasted a trip to the city. Ever practical, once I had explained the details of the situation to him, Patrick talked me into going out there because, much as he would have liked to see me, this could potentially be beneficial for my career.
So I did. It wasn't so awful once I got there, though he was completely unprepared for the strap-on training. And by unprepared, I mean no harness, no gloves, no lube ... just a grimy looking dildo with some fuzz from the carpet stuck to it and a couple butt plugs. Suffice to say, the strap-on training didn't even happen. We just ended up taking our pictures and talking a little ... a talk that did cause my original contempt for him to wane ever so slightly. And he predicted that he would have work for us by the following week, so at least by the time I left that day, I didn't feel my time had been completely wasted.
When I followed up with him the next week, he told me he had a few leads but no confirmations. Then silence, but since I was a bit distracted by my John saga, I pretty much forgot about it. Today, after a couple one line myspace messages over the past week, the first of which I ignored because it contained only the word "Call" and a phone number, the second asking if I could call him to discuss a possible session, we reconnected. Below is a transcription of the lovely conversation. Some of it has been modified in the interest of coherence. An ellipsis (...) denotes moments in which I didn't feel the need to dignify certain comments with a response. There were several.
Me: Did you lose my number? For future reference, this is it so you don't have to resort to cryptic myspace messages.
Him: Lol, sorry, I got a new phone.
*Insert banal pleasantries here*
Me: Ok, so what's up with this session business?
Him: I have five clients set up for me but still never got to train. I put it out to all my Domme friends; the first Domme to train me gets the session.
Me: ...
Him: Let me know.
Me: Well, I really can't afford to just trek out to Brooklyn right now if it's not for actual work.
Him: Once I make my asshole into a pussy, it will be better.
Me: ...
Him: I think I can get you a shoot.
Me: Wow, really? And only a month and change later!
Him: Well, you never trained me, Goddess.
(Side note: Maybe part of it's my past with Tool, but I really hate when guys just use any old title they feel like. I didn't specifically pick Mistress Kay for my health.)
Me: Because you weren't prepared with any of the necessary equipment for me to do so, if memory serves, so don't even try giving me that crap.
Him: Understood, Queen.
Me: ...
(I seriously think he used every honorific but the one I've chosen for myself.)
Him: I am just a sissy slut... I want you to own me. You could even stay here when you need.
Me: I've had subs before who haven't followed through on their agreements with me, and that's not something I want or need again. If you seriously want me to consider you, prove to me that you're reliable.
Him: Like I said, you can stay here rent free and pimp me.
Me: Okay. But that's not what I want out of owning someone.
Him: What do you want, Queen?
Me: Well, to name a few things ... someone who's respectful at all times, someone who's a man of his word, and someone who can take pain for me or is at least willing to build up a tolerance. Frankly, you have a long way to go.
Him: I will do anything to be your sub, period.
Me: That's very nice to hear. Now why don't you take some time to figure out exactly how you plan to go about backing up those pretty words with your actions. Then we can talk.
Him: Did I tell you I started cross dressing?
Me: Nope. But can you explain what the appeal of that is for you? It's never really been my kink, and I've been trying to get a decent perspective on it from someone who's into it so I can understand it better.
Him: My goal is to be a cross dressing cum dumpster in film.
At that point, since my dinner was ready, I decided that my goal was to eat it in peace and stop talking to him for the evening ... particularly since I had lost count of how many non-answers to specific questions we were up to at that point. So I did. Seriously though ... what the fuck?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Exhale
There was something very wrong with this picture, but I think I'm starting to set it right. Or at least starting to achieve perspective. Or... maybe this is just the calm before the storm. I'm not completely sure I've turned off the heat on some plots I had simmering on the back burner, and I'm not in the mood to check right now. The point, the part that matters is, just as suddenly as everything fell to shit ... it somehow seems to be back in place.
I've been known to complain that no one ever seems to let me walk away and leave them behind. I found the following passage in the draft of a letter I wrote in my journal four years ago:
You fought for my friendship almost a year ago, at 3 am in my driveway on Thanksgiving Eve: "Come on, don't de-friend me." I was so furious with you that night, demanding to know why it was so fucking important to you that I not walk away. And you didn't have a reason beyond "It just is." You became another person on that epic list of people who wouldn't or couldn't just let me walk, who grabbed at my ankles, pulling me back.
And even the people who do let me walk away for awhile seem to pop out of the woodwork at incredibly inopportune moments. Y'know ... right when I've finished cleaning up the mess they left me in and am just about done thinking about it.
Sometimes though ... those returns are blessings.
As predicted, Matt has come back into the picture, albeit very peripherally. While he still hasn't grown a pair in the being true to himself department, I missed his sunshine, and his timing couldn't have been better.
I've also been presented with the opportunity for the return of my controlled black and white, via a shot and sake bomb fueled love confession from the ex last Saturday. I have every intention of making her prove it just like anyone else, but even in the cool, clear, sober light of day almost a week later, she still hasn't backed down, and if nothing else, she also still hasn't lost the ability she's always seemed to have as far as somehow managing to instantly make me feel less empty, so I'm definitely not about to discount that.
I heard from Trey, too, who I'd thought had vanished from the scene.
Basically though, I am now officially acknowledging the fact that I have more productive things to think about than who said or thinks what and why people behave in the fucked up and despicable ways they do. And as interesting and oddly comforting as I found one mutual acquaintance's allegation that she believed the artist formerly known as "my little boy," (now fondly referred to as "scumbag" in the increasingly rare instances I feel the need to reference him) might potentially be a dangerous sociopath, there are far more useful things to expend my energy on than doing Google searches on sociopathic traits, which was my last pet project before I woke up one morning and just suddenly had that sweet sensation of, "Nah, fuck it." And I'm certainly not complaining, but ... is it really possible to heal this quickly? I don't completely trust this, and I'm waiting for the catch.
In the meantime, I've been easing my way into bottoming, too ... whether it winds up being for catharsis or just for my own personal growth. Magnum and I did a little knife play the other day, and while I still really don't believe there's a submissive bone in my body ... I could easily become a slutty knife bottom. I think I'm just a sucker for sensation.
And today, after being nice and productive and going on a job interview, I got a phone call invite to go to a BDSM lesbian Mafia party (not the technical term, but I forget what it's actually called) with an absolutely adorable little Filipino subbie girl who's become a recent and welcome addition to my circle of friends. She's taking normal people length healing time as far as recovering from her last relationship, so I'm not shooting for more than friendship at the moment, but adventures with the BDSM Lesbian Mafia should definitely make for one delicious story either way.
So, all these random, unrelated updates to say: I'm still alive. I quoted a song lyric in those old journal posts: "A stronger girl would shake this off in flight and never give it more than a frowning hour." From how I've been feeling lately, it really seems like somewhere along the way, I may have actually managed become that girl. Which is a pretty awesome thought.
I've been known to complain that no one ever seems to let me walk away and leave them behind. I found the following passage in the draft of a letter I wrote in my journal four years ago:
You fought for my friendship almost a year ago, at 3 am in my driveway on Thanksgiving Eve: "Come on, don't de-friend me." I was so furious with you that night, demanding to know why it was so fucking important to you that I not walk away. And you didn't have a reason beyond "It just is." You became another person on that epic list of people who wouldn't or couldn't just let me walk, who grabbed at my ankles, pulling me back.
And even the people who do let me walk away for awhile seem to pop out of the woodwork at incredibly inopportune moments. Y'know ... right when I've finished cleaning up the mess they left me in and am just about done thinking about it.
Sometimes though ... those returns are blessings.
As predicted, Matt has come back into the picture, albeit very peripherally. While he still hasn't grown a pair in the being true to himself department, I missed his sunshine, and his timing couldn't have been better.
I've also been presented with the opportunity for the return of my controlled black and white, via a shot and sake bomb fueled love confession from the ex last Saturday. I have every intention of making her prove it just like anyone else, but even in the cool, clear, sober light of day almost a week later, she still hasn't backed down, and if nothing else, she also still hasn't lost the ability she's always seemed to have as far as somehow managing to instantly make me feel less empty, so I'm definitely not about to discount that.
I heard from Trey, too, who I'd thought had vanished from the scene.
Basically though, I am now officially acknowledging the fact that I have more productive things to think about than who said or thinks what and why people behave in the fucked up and despicable ways they do. And as interesting and oddly comforting as I found one mutual acquaintance's allegation that she believed the artist formerly known as "my little boy," (now fondly referred to as "scumbag" in the increasingly rare instances I feel the need to reference him) might potentially be a dangerous sociopath, there are far more useful things to expend my energy on than doing Google searches on sociopathic traits, which was my last pet project before I woke up one morning and just suddenly had that sweet sensation of, "Nah, fuck it." And I'm certainly not complaining, but ... is it really possible to heal this quickly? I don't completely trust this, and I'm waiting for the catch.
In the meantime, I've been easing my way into bottoming, too ... whether it winds up being for catharsis or just for my own personal growth. Magnum and I did a little knife play the other day, and while I still really don't believe there's a submissive bone in my body ... I could easily become a slutty knife bottom. I think I'm just a sucker for sensation.
And today, after being nice and productive and going on a job interview, I got a phone call invite to go to a BDSM lesbian Mafia party (not the technical term, but I forget what it's actually called) with an absolutely adorable little Filipino subbie girl who's become a recent and welcome addition to my circle of friends. She's taking normal people length healing time as far as recovering from her last relationship, so I'm not shooting for more than friendship at the moment, but adventures with the BDSM Lesbian Mafia should definitely make for one delicious story either way.
So, all these random, unrelated updates to say: I'm still alive. I quoted a song lyric in those old journal posts: "A stronger girl would shake this off in flight and never give it more than a frowning hour." From how I've been feeling lately, it really seems like somewhere along the way, I may have actually managed become that girl. Which is a pretty awesome thought.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
