A lot of it has to do with our modern society; they way we hole ourselves up or pile into shiny metal boxes, contestants in a suicidal race. (Thank you, Sting.*) We all want love, companionship, to be understood, and affiliated with something. We seek to belong — even if we can’t admit it. Sometimes, and most often, to ourselves.

I hope you’re enjoying our Podcast. I’ve noticed a theme among the episodes: the dispelling of many myths in BDSM or the alternative lifestyles in general, and we’ll continue to do that. Especially femdom. There’s a tonne of myths surrounding the practise of a female-led relationship. Female supremacy is a big one. I know it gets a lot of subby boys hard, but I can’t be down with something that’s obviously false just because it has arousing capabilities. I wouldn’t be me.

That’s actually what I’m here to share with you today. Some stuff you may not know about me. While Mister P breathes into my ear how powerful I am while my strap-on is plunged deep into him, the truth is, power is relative and circumstantial. I may carry myself with an air of self-sufficiency and the knowledge that I have just as much right to be here that anyone else does, but I worry. I get scared. I can be driven to tears — though, rarely ever in the company of someone else. I do have my pride — whatever the hell that means. There are days I want nothing more than to throw my arms around Mister P when he gets home and curl up next to him on our sofa while he surveys his stock portfolio. It can feel like one of the most peaceful places on earth to me. If I can’t get to sleep, just the steady and rhythmic beating of his heart can lull me to dreamland — arriving with warm, fuzzy thoughts. I jest that my body has come to interpret his arm across my torso as we sleep as a ‘nightmare guard’, as I’ve woken short of breath to find that he’s turned over on his side at some point during the night — which, strangely enough, doesn’t happen if I wake to find I’m still nuzzled against his forearm. I may be a dominant woman, but I’m also a human being.

I realise this isn’t something you want to hear, since it continues to shatter those myths you hold so dear. (Hey, I rhymed.)

Dommes need subs.

We do. Underneath it all is still the little girl we once were that looked upon our fathers with awe and amazement at the fact they could magically make the house work on our mother’s command. And somewhere, deep in our minds, we connected those dots to churn out our own, individualised ideal version The Perfect Man. And to a naturally dominant woman, he’s no doubt submissive. But he’s no slouch. We looked up to Dad. He could do anything! As such, you’d better believe that our man’s got to be able to do that — and then some.

You already know, there are as many flavours of domme as there are sub. Some are Goddesses and Queenes, and expect everything to be done for them, and many times, without their asking. They are to be worshipped, admired, and feared — all without lifting a finger. (Well, unless they really want to.) Everything paid for, done for them, so that they can spend their days doing anything they want?

I’m asking: who lives like that? (Okay, okay, okay. Besides my mother?) Really. Who lives like a Queene? There are subs out there who want nothing more than to be enslaved by a Goddess or Queene, but I don’t have much — if any — respect for them. You’ve also got your Mommy Dommes, Domestic Disciplinarian / Governess types, and Amazons. Okay, they’re at least keeping their own house. They might even be doing all the heavy lifting. There’s a clear element of self-sufficiency as well as being in charge here. More than anything, the sub just has to be available to do whatever she wants him to do. Take a beating? Okay. Clean the bathroom? Sure thing. Foot massage? No problem. But even that isn’t close enough to being within the realm of reality.

See, domination is hard. It’s kind of exhausting, even for how fun it is. There’s a lot of mental prep work — outside of physical setup and planning — and depending upon how many scenes you’ve done before, the more perfectionistic of us are always striving to be more creative, original, and impressive. Personally, I always want to take him to deeper subspace than I did before. That takes time and energy.

You know what else does? Life.

We both work, though on similar schedules, doing different things. I’m a psychosexual therapist and dominatrix, he’s a professional poker player. Fortunately, his schedule’s nicely aligned with mine (because I insisted it be, thank you) so we get to have sexy time pretty much immediately after he gets home. Sometimes, it involves a carefully planned scene — like ending chastity. Those can always be mind-blowing orgasms — if done right. But sometimes, life just happens, and you find days passing without any major scening, and lots of making out, but very little sex. Life for a couple with busy schedules and healthy libidos can suffer downswings. Now, if you add in that one partner doesn’t, it takes on a whole new shape.

Part of the reason I do psychosexual counseling is that I don’t. I’m one of many women who’s endured and survived abuse, but find it very difficult to enjoy sex at times as a result. BDSM is a tremendous means for healing sexual abuse — especially in childhood, when everything about your sexuality is forming. I’d love to teach women survivors how to safely explore the female dominance lifestyle as a form of therapy. (I’m hoping to get my first client for that soon. Fingers crossed.) I think every woman has an inner domme that wants to come out and play. Just as I’ve said the most put-together people are switches, since they know both sides of the spectrum, and are comfortable in both roles.

I’ll get there eventually — just not today. But tomorrow … we’ll see.

(Thank you, Sting*.)

[*Synchronicity II]
[*Tomorrow We'll See]

While phone sex lines are perennial, phone domination, or ‘phone dommes’ are very much en vogue at current. Does this mean that there’s increased ease of finding a genuine female dominant or professional dominatrix at the end of the line? I remain sceptical. While there’s a good number of us pro-dommes hanging out on such third party services in our off-hours, (I have an account with NiteFlirt), the bulk of the listings are barely legal bottle-blonde with IQs to match their body weight. Hordes of ‘bratty princesses’ with stereotypical head cheerleader dispositions wear slutty clothes in demeaning poses, with market-ready femdom phrases, but deplorable grammar and not a spell-checker in sight. (It’s ‘dominant’, honey, not ‘dominate’. But don’t worry — you aren’t.) It almost seems a joke with how much these photographs have nothing to do with the femdom-centric phrasing.

And a word on age. I’m a young domme, and I’ve got a decade on these girls. Some individuals have incredible maturity at a younger age. (I did.) However, it’s hardly the standard or norm, and most of these girls couldn’t top their way out of a paper bag. ‘Bratty princesses’ are just that; not dommes. I am what I am. As I say in my profiles on websites, I don’t play at it, and it isn’t something I have to switch in and out of. I keep a tight lid on my sadistic personality — that does take some conscious transitioning; but for the most part, I’m a domme anywhere and everywhere. (Which can be interesting at times.)

If these girls can dom, I’ll eat my hat. (Naturally, first, I’ll have to acquire such headgear — and props if it’s already edible — then I’ll consume it). The youngest pro-domme I’ve met is 25, which is an acceptable age for a domme. I’d still be a bit sceptical of younger than that if it’s not geared toward paying for college. Then they’re in something of a different class, and kudos to them for learning the biz early. I’m quite honest about my skill level, and the fact that I’ve been a lifestyle domme for far longer than I’ve been a pro. Luckily, counselling is something I’ve done for so long, I can hardly recall a time when I wasn’t doing so, but it’s important to advertise truthfully. I can’t say these young women are doing that.

Were they simply being ‘phone actresses’ — okay, but they proclaim to be dommes. There’s a market for just-turned-eighteen, and it’s not domination. (Well, not on the doing end, that’s for sure.) I can imagine plenty of doms salivating at the possibility of slapping that pussy or fucking that ass, (since we’re talking fetish here) but subbie-boys? Really? Okay, there’s no doubt they’re getting turned by the sight of a beautiful young woman, but if part of the fantasy is in this woman taking control then, I have to ask — where is the control-taking? These women are advertising themselves in the sort of manner as would a female submissive — NOT a dominant. Dommes don’t show you their ass. They don’t offer you photographs of their ladybits. They never do something as unbecoming as bending over and presenting themselves to you, and — while we’re at it — they’re really not so ‘gangsta’, either. (What is up with that, anyway? Do they have any idea how ridiculous they look? Do they?)

I know, I’m kinda sounding a bit like a mom, aren’t I? Probably because the ultimate archetype of the female dominant is the mother figure. She’s the one who said what went; justifications for her orders were accepted at ‘because I said so’ and for a good decade and a half of your life, (maybe more) she was the be-all, end-all, final say of everything. And, personally, my mother is a domme. She raised me from a very young age how to be a proper girl in my station, and, more than anything, how to control the boys around me so that they would behave as was proper to their station. Yes, looking back, I realise that my mother’s something of a female supremacist.

Funny, isn’t it? Of course, she doesn’t enforce any of it, or really believe it. It was just a good way to teach her daughter to not be subservient to men in hopes that she wouldn’t suffer unneccessary heartbreak at the whims of assholes and losers. Alas, I’m just as human as the rest of us. It took age for me to truly come to appreciate the beauty and value of a submissive man who’s got his shit together, isn’t looking to be saved, and wants instead to give over that power to you. How amazing is that? Anyhow. Like most women, I kissed my share of definite frogs, and learned the hard way that most doms (not all, but most) were really just complete assholes and looking for a license to be assholes. But take it from me, ladies: the prince you’re looking for is definitely a sub. (Well, that or a switch with enough inner toppiness to be a good, but loving, dom — which no doubt comes from his actually being a submissive.) But in my personal, nigh three decades of life (a good fifteen years of which have involved my seeking to unravel the masculine mystery), I’m not going to say there’s no such possibility, but as far as I’m aware — most male doms are dicks. If you’d like to narrow down the jackass factor, stick with the subs.

Now, I leave the rest of up to you, my sporadic, but appreciative (and valued) audience. Would you, as a submissive man, find such a young, fresh-outta-the-box girl, doing all she knows to attract a man, even the least bit believable as a domme? Could you think for a moment that this young woman is capable of even remotely bringing out your vulnerability? Would she not seem to be exactly what the advertisement says about her? A ‘bratty princess’?

Before you respond, a point of necessary clarification: a domme can take on the persona of a ‘bratty princess’ if she feels like it. Some women enjoy returning to that point of their evolution; kicking back and playing the role of the selfish, overbearing teenager she may once, or possibly even never, have been. It can be just as freeing and liberating for the submissive man who’s seeking to let go differently, (especially if her base personality is more serious and even-keeled. Then it’s a real vacation from the ordinary.) On the other hand, as said before, it doesn’t work in the reverse. If anything, I think the whole situation would work better if they portrayed themselves as ‘bad girls’ in need of punishment by doms — rather than ‘dommes’ themselves.

But what do I know? I’m just a legitimate domme.

So, fellas? What’s the verdict?

Case in point: the email I receive. Some of it has a distinct trend; if it’s not from a BMF, or likely to result in a satisfying new professional relationship, I immediately begin to detect the foul stench of bullshit — the worst kind, too; that which has been perfumed and disguised as as to appear like anything but the steaming pile of crap it is.

Most of the time, it’s harmless. Lonely men incapable of drawing the line between reality and fantasy, or all out preferring that it remain blurred at best. No matter how truly fantastic the claims may be. This is why I suspect they’ve come to me already in-role, presenting fantasy as if it were reality. It’s a delicate dance, though. Should they not be nursing some latent psychosis, they always know on some level that I can’t possibly be buying this. You’ve all seen it before, too: 24/7 relationships. Victims of blackmail. His wife, instead of being traumatised by finding her husband with another woman, joining forces with the offending party to punish said philandering husband for the rest of his days, engaging in subbie-hubbie wetdream fantasyland.

Okay, I’m not saying it absolutely cannot happen. Believe me — my own life has gotten downright unbelievably bizarre at times. To the point where, had I not lived it, even I would be thinking myself to be surely full of shit. But good ol’ Occam and his shaving kit and I’ve been buddy-buddy for too long to not run anything and everything through a rather merciless process of reality-testing to determine its validity. That’s just how I roll.

I’m a natural-born actress as well as writer myself. I love to play at something, and pretend otherwise. Not surprising, then, that I’m a big fan of role-playing. I used to joke with my co-writers prior to doing a scene (in the fictional, not BDSM context, though sometimes, such elements were present — those were the best scenes, too!) we’d put our ‘game face’ on. It was just a clearly communicated means of distinguishing between being writers here in reality and what we were about to engage in the realm of story-telling outside of it. In short, it seems to me that a lot of these guys who write me, either for services, or reasons unknown or as-yet determined, have neglected to inform me of when they put their game faces on. That’s where I take issue. My bullshit detector is klaxoning to fuck and back, but no one’s jumping out of the bushes and yelling, ‘psych!’

As can also be expected, I’ve devised a number of theories to explain this emergent phenomenon, as, well, I’m wont to do. I could always take everything at face-value and give them the ultimate benefit of the doubt, assuming them to be one of the very few whose lives really does play out like a Gorean novel or special selections from Penthouse Forum. Again, it can happen. Predicting human behaviour is the most complex business with which the social sciences have to contend. However, sheer volume seems to strengthen my initial position — especially since the number is only growing.

Honesty is such a lonely word. My first theory rather plainly assumes that the level of embarrassment associated with even so much as contacting me is so severe, that he cannot even bring himself to connect it — in his own experience — with himself, or his life. This goes beyond basic paranoia and the need for confidentiality. No one has to be honest over the Internet anyway. We can manifest several entirely separate existences, aliases, and personae without one even drawing near to who we are outside of it. For that reason, discretion and confidentiality is typically already resolved. Anything they say or do now is independent of that; which is why what tends to result continues to slay me: a total stranger presenting his cherished fantasy to me as if it were reality — and standing firmly by its veracity.

My second theory involves other unknown individuals and factors — most commonly, that I have been included in another’s scene. Simply stated, some of these men contact me as the result of domination by other women. Not my pet theory, and far less common if actually occurring. Still, it does make sense in certain cases. I’m being contacted on the instruction of another domme, for whatever purpose she has set forth. I’m unaware of this, and supposed to take the correspondence as legitimate — despite the fact that it wastes my time and is under pretense. (But I’m the least important factor in this incidence, of course.) My third seems most likely — even more so than my first theory: he derives such pleasure and erotic satisfaction from simply making contact outside of himself with a dominant woman that it’s purely masturbatory. He’s in complete control of it. The surest sign of this is when a ‘serious request’ for my services reads like a fantasy, complete with desired instructions, outcomes, and concluding with their reflections: i.e., ‘I want to X, and then she will Y, and Z, and it will make me A and B. It makes me very C.’ Those can be the most infuriating in many ways; my time has been certainly wasted, and I don’t appreciate being brought into someone’s masturbatory fantasies without my consent or payment. That’s just how it is. Those are sneaky, however. You can never tell when it’s really a legitimate correspondence or the beginning of someone’s literary whackathon.

Sure, honesty can be difficult, but it’s not impossible. I’d be much more willing to work with someone’s whose upfront about what’s their reality versus their fantasy. If they’d just introduce themselves, outline their fantasy, and allow us to determine what’s going to be the best course of action after that. But too many men want to dive right in; so much to the point that they build these ridiculous sounding scenarios that, in their right mind, they can’t possibly think anyone is actually believing. It’d just be more satisfying for me if I were able to meet the person and then their fantasies. When they present themselves as one in the same, it’s not only backwards and confuses everything, it’s a disservice to us both.

In a business where the skill is in being able to seamlessly integrate reality with fantasy and vice-versa, you can’t just fuck off the baseline. You need to be anchored in something, or you’re simply drifting out to sea. I wish they’d let me do my job rather than assuming they know what I’m doing. If they’d just let go, they’d be astounded with the level of satisfaction that comes from fantasy fulfillment borne of honesty, truth, and trust.

Of course, at the end of the day, people will do what they want to do. That includes me. I may not be the most popular domme, I may not give you exactly what you came for, and I may call you on your bullshit and make you confront what it is you’re avoiding. I won’t let you get away with harming yourself, or give you validation for hurting others — emotionally, or physically. Being submissive is not a ‘free to cheat on your partner’ card! An open relationship is one thing — infidelity is another. Don’t assume you know everything, and your spouse or partner will automatically going to reject you if you come out of the kink closet to them. You don’t know. Don’t be angry with me for advising you do nothing until you take that step. You’re just being selfish and impatient. Don’t think I won’t tell you that.

You may never thank me; you may never even understand what it is I do. But I’ll keep doing it. I’ll stay honest, ethical, and aware. I’ll keep insisting that my clients do the same. That’s just who I am, and it’s not going to change.

What follows is the entire text of what this Mistress wrote for those who want to read it.

SATURDAY, MAY 2, 2009

Don’t Get Taken For a Ride
MystressWorld.com is a scam, designed to play on the sincere desires of submissive men and dominant women to meet one another. Here is how it works: You are typically contacted by someone with the name MystressWorld on sites such as the CollarMe.com website, instructing you to email them at yesmystress@yahoo.com. From there, you are instructed to send cash payment via mail to a PO Box or paypal and promised to be part of training in which you will meet a partner in your area serious about having a D/s relationship.

Women are targeted as well as men, and the women are used to lure men, and both are cycled in and out of the program and separated. Whenever people are getting close to meeting, they are often separated and for additional payment, one can stay in the program for longer periods. The trick then is to dangle the promise of getting people together, all the while trying to maximize their profits in getting people to send more money.

So what do you get if you are foolish enough to join? A series of training webpages that could only appeal to the most childish minded. After finishing a given “lesson” you email what you did back to the site manager and advance to the next lesson. There are literally many dozens of such “lessons” and domme as well as male submissive must complete them. It is an endless maze, leading to nowhere.

Bottom line, is that MystressWorld is a scam and you will be taken of your money at the end.

I am a domme who was formerly involved with MystressWorld and left after realizing the dishonesty and lies that were all too routine. There are several other of us who left around the same time. I wanted no part of it and was used. It is wrong to deceive men and women this way and it was wrong to have used us to in turn use men to send money.

The purpose of this blog is for people to find it and be warned. Google “mystressworld” for more information and verify for yourself what is said here. If you join, you will be taken advantage of and used. No ifs or buts about it.

Many on the Collarme.com website are organizing to fight this and bring better public attention to this fraudulent scammer and our hope is twofold. First, to warn people, and two, to bring to the attention of the government the money scam that is being done. Doubtless tax-evasion of the money being made is being committed.

Together we can destroy this person and this site and send a clear and loud message that the true BDSM community will organize against these kinds of frauds out there who attempt to victimize our members. Men and women, submisive and dominant alike, organize against such sites and fight it as best you can by joining groups or posting messages whenever you see things like this.

NEVER GIVE YOUR MONEY TO THESE PEOPLE.

You will be robbed and a fool if you do.

I’ll break it down for everyone, to the best of my understanding:

A slave is one who is owned by a master or mistress. Pure and simple. The term of ‘unowned slave‘ emerged, I feel, as a result of confusion on the behalf of a submissive who isn’t quite sure what they are. There are rare instances in which one can be an ‘unowned slave’, but only when they have been disowned for whatever reason. These are then listless, aimless individuals who have been under the guidance and direction of someone for a length of time, and are suddenly cut loose — left to wander, lost, like a pet who’s found itself too far from home, and isn’t sure where they are. That is an unowned slave. Nothing else.

What isn’t a slave? The guy who has been fantasising for the last 10 years about submitting to a dominant woman, goes onto a kinky personals site and labels himself ‘slave’. In fact, he’s not even a submissive. He’s a fetishist. His fantasy has not crossed the borders of reality just yet, and it all exists within his head. And for some people, who crave truly dangerous, even deadly edge play with sadistic individuals unwilling to consider their feelings or need to cease the activity, it’s definitely preferable. (And trust me — they’re out there.) That’s probably the demographic that annoys me most, too. They’re being disrespectful to those who are true submissives — who’ve incorporated it into their lives, and are not just playing at it, or fantasising about it. In that vein, I have seen ‘unowned submissives’, and this is perfectly legitimate. They’re submissives who are seeking to become slaves. That works. There’s an unspoken process here, and they’re aware of it.

But, moving on.

I like collared for both submissives and slaves, personally. It’s a definite sign of control, of the dominant’s influence over the submissive or slave’s life and being, but it’s not as all-encompassing as owned. So, that’s where we’re going next. We’re going to discuss ownership — specifically that called for in a 24/7 arrangement.

We’ll start with what ownership even means to most of us. We own things all of the time, but think very little of it, unless it’s called into question or challenged by someone. We buy dinner, but consume it quickly thereafter we hardly think of ourselves as having ‘owned’ that meal. Other things — non-perishables — can stick around for quite sometime: our appliances, furniture, electronics, and other-such. Of course, in today’s world, there are varying levels of ownership; we also rent and lease. Someone still has the final say over the item in question, and we have to respect the wishes of that individual: be it a landlord, a loan officer, or the person providing us with that service or unit. Now, conversely, take a home — a paid-off home, in fact. Or even a car. You own it. It’s yours. You can paint it polka-dots, or light it on fire, if you feel like it. Nobody’s going to care — well, they might wonder why you’re choosing to be so destructive — people like me, in fact — but more than that, nobody can stop you. Nobody. It’s yours, after all. You are the final say. Period, paragraph.

Now. Apply those concepts — own versus lease — to the BDSM community, and it becomes really blatantly obvious here that something’s amiss. What are these 24/7 seekers really looking for? Ownership. Ownership in the context of which we all know ownership to be. But these aren’t cars, homes, or non-sentient things. These are people — living, breathing, alive, people, for fucksake! But something’s already happened in their minds, in their lives, to want to ‘live’ the ‘life’ of property. To be something to someone, and not someone. Most often, that something is deeply tragic.

These are souls who give over their entire selves — body, mind, and consciousness — to someone else to do with them whatever they will. Paint them in polka-dots. Or light them on fire. They just don’t care. They don’t even have names. They have numbers. They are identified as if they were part of a larger system that has no time to take their individuality into account, or the fact that they’re living human beings. They sacrifice their very identities — who they are, and largely because of the startlingly normal fact: they don’t know who they are.

Those who seek to be owned as 24/7 slaves have decided to give up on the normal, everyday business of living. All that we go through in childhood, adolescence and young adulthood to find out who the fuck we are? They’re not interested anymore. Something so horrifying has stripped away their identity, or something so sick and twisted took place before they could even begin to develop an identity, that they wander lost and confused through life wondering who they are, and finally deciding to take the easy road and just make it someone else’s business. (I won’t say how this resonates so strongly with certain organised religions to me, for lack of wanting to offend, but you probably get the idea.) They don’t just want to retreat to an earlier point of their lives when living was simpler or made more sense, they’d rather scrap the whole thing and be someone’s chair. Hey, that sounds like a swell sort of life. Let’s go be furniture! I mean, it serves a purpose, doesn’t it? People like furniture. They don’t like us … They don’t need us … Let’s go be something they want; something they like. Something they need.

Now. Whether or not dominants really dive right into this, I can’t entirely say, because I, quite frankly, don’t believe the tripe on those websites whose owners claim they do. And for a pretty big reason. Most of, if not all of those dominants claiming to be seeking ‘permanent 24/7 live-in TPE slaves’ aren’t even parents. That’s right. They haven’t raised anyone. There’s probably a reason for that. You want to talk about taking the life of another human being in your hands? Go be a fucking parent, asshole. Figure out what it’s really like before you mouth off about how much you want a ‘slave’, okay? I, for one, refuse to engage in parenthood until I’ve really got my own shit sorted out. It’s not fair to a child, and it’d only lead to resentment and bad things down the line. (If only more actual parents understood this simple fact, God, the world would be in a better fucking place.) End of that rant.

So, 24/7. It’s bad news from every angle, from what I can tell. That’s my personal — and professional — opinion. Psychologists, psychotherapists, counselors — we all help to rebuild a fractured or incomplete sense of self. We seek to help someone develop the identity they never quite got around to making for themselves. A healthy sense of self, ego boundaries, and interpersonal relating strategies. 24/7 does none of that from the way it’s practised in the majority. It’s just some asshole on a total fucking power trip who takes advantage of a deeply emotionally — and oftentimes, mentally — troubled individual who’s gotten it into their heads that ceasing to live (since that’s what they’re doing) is a great fucking idea. That it will solve all their problems, because they won’t be their problems anymore. They’ll be someone elses. And, I’m sorry, unless it’s Mother fucking Theresa — it ain’t happening.

Wow. I get really intense about this subject … Probably because I can see the widespread potential for abuse on so many levels because of it: emotional, psychological, verbal, physical — you name it. Bad. Bad, bad, bad. All of it. Very. 24/7 things, ‘femdom marriages’ and the like are all really just the subject of fantasy and fetishism. They’re used as tools of arousal — and that’s fine. But when the lines of fantasy and reality blurr — or, more importantly — someone wants to take something with the high potential for abuse and make it into their reality, they’re asking to hurt themselves — have their identity be erased and be nothings. Entirely dependent upon someone else. They’re not looking to be ‘leased’ like a submissive, who can always call the safeword, or, have it fully negotiated with the dominant beforehand to keep it safe, sane, and above all — consensual.

Is slavehood consensual? Ask yourself that. Just because you said ‘oh, I can’t stand myself anymore — let me give this burden to someone else under the guise that it’s really all for them, and I’m not secretly throwing myself a pity party’ yesterday, you really think that today you’re going to feel the same? Especially considering whether or not arousal took part in your decision making. Jesus. Why do so many people hinder their decision-making abilities by clouding it with sexual arousal? In a scene, that’s fine. In a negotiated, limited power-exchange scene, that’s great stuff — depending upon those other three factors which I’ve already stated. But too many people do too many incredibly stupid things just because they’re horny. Or drunk. Or — my favourite — drunk and horny. Do me a favour — next time CuntCutie69 asks you to give her all your money as you’re jacking off to her fake photo on some website — don’t, okay? Just don’t. Do something good for yourself. Ask yourself why you’re doing this in the first place, and what it’s really getting you. Okay? Just do that. If you must, do it for me.

Because, see, this is where I come in, because I ask why: why you insist on hurting yourself. Why you’ve given up. Why you have the feelings you do. Why you have them. It’s just what I do.

And, I have to admit, generally speaking — I’m really enjoying doing it.