The Power of the Dominant Pussy

If you ask anyone in a modern-day world about who holds the sexual ‘power’ in a relationship, the majority of people would say it’s the one with the pussy… the female. Because she’s the one who (normally) controls what and when anything is happening to her vagina.
It seems to be the running joke, as we’ve seen in countless standup’ routines and TV/movie comedies. It’s oh so funny how the man is always horny and the woman ‘has a headache’. The man did something stupid so now he’s punished. The man is led by his dick and the woman, by her heart. Etc, etc. If she’s not in the mood, it’s just not happening. It’s this sexual unpredictability that gives women her so-called ‘power’. Let’s look at this further, shall we?

It’s a largely accepted stereotype that men are always horny and will fuck anything, while women are not and will not. This imbalance is oftentimes the foundation of stress and incompatibility in a typical vanilla relationship. But this same imbalance is a critical requirement of creating desire within a sexual femdom relationship. Supply and demand. Basic. It doesn’t matter WHY it is what it is. It doesn’t matter that women are turned on by what they FEEL and men are generally turned on by what they SEE. Venus Mars shit here, nothing new. Marriage counselors can retire on this principal alone.
But while vanilla folks whine about it… FLR D/s folks wallow in it.

Recently, I was asked to reinstate an old fuck-buddy type dynamic with someone I’ve known for years. He reached out since was moving away soon and had gnawing regrets about not exploring deeper D/s play with me. I actually enjoyed nakedness with this person and we had a few sexy D/s scenes, but life happens and our time was cut short of delving deeper into his vulnerabilities, as well as his virgin asshole. So when he offered me his attention (and his ass) this time around, I instantly got excited.
One, because he was super fun to fuck, (such a perfect, pretty cock) but also because I want to be the one. His first. It’s the most satisfying feeling there is.
I love the idea of being the person who gives someone their first heavenly experience of something that could otherwise be a total shit show. Let’s be honest here… there are a LOT of dominant people who have NO idea wtf they’re doing. Just go on Fetlife and see for yourself. It’s chock full of submissives with horror stories and near PTSD. It’s appalling. And it’s why I was on there for only 1 day and said nope.

Anyway, I LOVE taking someone’s fear and turning it into lust. I want to crush myths, explain the psychology, expose the nerves, make memories. I want to create and be part of an experience that might never happen for someone. It doesn’t have to be mind-blowing crazy, but simply memorable. It’s that kind of intimacy that I crave.
If there was one word to explain why I love this lifestyle, it’s intimacy. I get off on the most personal connection of it all. Which is also what makes THIS type of femdom different from the more abrasive femdom. The interconnection, the sexiness, the desire.
And it’s what happened between me and this man the first time we met several years ago. We had a VERY intimate experience that left him reeling in the most intense subspace, of which he’s still in awe. It’s why we had several sexy times a couple of years after that, and why he’s asked me to go further with him, now.

But after my initial excitement of his most recent request, I had to really think about what it entails. I thought about what I’d gain from this short-term exchange. And why I fell away from him at earlier times. He’s not someone to have any ‘real’ relationship, for multiple reasons, plus he is one of those ‘poly’ folks. (That last part is more of a turn off than Crocs.) But he’s wonderfully curious, respectful, and did I mention he’s got a great cock? So I told him I’d let him know, and I slept on it. Because I was still unsure how much he was willing to actually submit, and not top from the bottom, which is what the majority of ‘submissive’ men ultimately want to do.

Here’s the thing… 99% of men automatically assume that kinky scenes will be the MAIN physical encounter they will share with me, the second they learn I’m a dominant kinkster. The very INSTANT they know I’m into D/s, the idea of an adult loving relationship flies out the window and I’m now the sole provider of all their fantasies, and they assume that my ‘serving’ him is what gets me off.
This belief is totally backwards, and I blame standard femdom porn.
I’m sorry, but who the fuck is serving who, now?
Really? So, one person is doing all the physical work, planning, effort, creativity, energy, muscle strength, tying-untying, balancing, flogging, leading around, etc, while the other person just lays back and ‘lets her do what she wants’, and this is somehow considered the sub serving the domme? Hmm.

This is the thing that truly pisses me off. Men who believe their role is to literally not DO anything… to simply receive all their pleasure and then claim they don’t know what they should do, so they don’t even attempt to do anything. As if they’re inhuman, without feelings, without any clue how to interact with the person they desire. This is what I mean by the domme serving the sub. FFS, this pisses me off.

Sorry, but if you want to just lay around and be ‘done unto’, you either need to pay my ass, or go to another PROFESSIONAL domina. Oh, the naïve subwannabes, if you have a laundry list of shit you want someone to do TO you, you’re looking for scenes, not a true D/s relationship. Gah, I could go on about this forever.
I’m steering myself off into a tangent here, so I’ll pull myself back to the subject at hand. Pussy. I’ll get back to all that power roles some other time.

See, I was on the fence because I know myself. Once I have a nice cock and a soft mouth and tongue at my regular disposal, oh MAN… I’m gonna wear them out! I’m insatiable when I have the circumstances in which to be. I’m perfectly content in a drought, but thirsty as fuck when surrounded by water. When I have something, I WALLOW in that shit!
‘So much sex’ is part of the whole allure. Serving me should be my partner’s goal, and in return, I give him the memories he wants. Win-win. Of course love is part of a serious relationship, but that’s not part of every relationship, and certainly NOT part of this one.
When involved with me, my sub’s desired goal is my personal attention to him. My validation is his desired goal. My pussy is his desired goal. My pleasure is his desired goal. All these things are melded into a sultry dynamic oozing with sensuality and wetness. From the stringy drool of his gaping gagged mouth, to the slipperiness of my swollen hole while getting tongue fucked. All this is MY allure to this dynamic.
And since the sexual chemistry between me and this particular man had been excellent in the past, I said yes. Yes to the next month filled with tons of delicious nakedness and restraints and orgasms (mine) and blindfolds and his sex canal finally stretched and filled with my anatomically-correct rubber cock. Yes.

The truth is, I am attracted to being the object of desire/attraction. It’s almost reactive. I think everyone is far more interested in those who are interested in them, no? I want you to want me. Cheap Trick sang it because it’s universal.
Doesn’t the knowledge of being wanted heighten ones interest? Lust feeds lust. It’s a circle. My philosophy is that people should yearn for each other. People should want experiences to happen, whatever they may be. Everyone should WANT what they want, and they should want TO want. It’s part of the exchange. To allow and examine one’s desire. Half-assedness is how the regular world functions, and it’s got NO place in situations that I choose.

Submissives should YEARN. Fueled by their desire for… physical sensations / praise / acceptance / pleasure / validation / nurturing / emotional satisfaction. They should feel compelled to interact with me on a deeper level. And because creating desire is my prime directive, I feed off that yearning in a symbiotic manner. And at the very center of this desire and intimacy… is my vagina. Because without its involvement, there is no true intimacy. Period.

Now, others may judge their connection to one another on other things, such as common interests or goals or backgrounds, etc. Some people can have less-than-great sexual chemistry and STILL manage to create a physical connection of which they’re content. Not me.
If I’m to have ANY sexual relationship with someone, my pussy is at the center of it. It’s where our most primitive sexual connection resides. It’s from where my femininity stems, the apex of our intimacy. It’s where I can receive and not have to give. It’s the most sacred, private area that is reserved for the most special of people. And it should be valued as such.
This is a popular shared idea among those in our sect of BDSM. And why pussy worship is a commonly-required activity. It’s termed WORSHP, because of all the reasons I just listed. To worship is to show devotion and adoration. When we are enamored with something, we want to KNOW everything about it. We want to immerse ourselves in it.

On a physical level, we express this curiosity and excitement when we kiss each other passionately. We explore our mouths, softly, aggressively, lingeringly. We delve into each other with our tongues, feeling the softness and wetness, learning about the other person with every lap or thrust. Caressing flesh and teeth and lips. Breathing breath and feeling as if you can climb into one another. Making note of the reaction of the other person, their taste, their vulnerability. Good god, do our minds wander when we have passionate make-out sessions. Rest assured that both parties are thinking about genitals when we tongue fuck each other’s mouths. It’s why making out is such excellent foreplay.

So, stereotype or not, the truth is that the vagina holds the ultimate power, and it should be treated as such. A glorious dominant pussy can and should be her sub’s reward… but it can also be his punishment. Access to it is the commodity used to negotiate, and a wise domme knows this well.
It is the door, the entrance, the gate to the most divine. My partners understand that eating my pussy is the most basic, non-negotiable activity we’ll share. It will ALWAYS be expected prior to ANY other sexual activity, and oftentimes immediately after we meet. As much as I love cock, I will never engage in any actual vaginal sex, or will I touch his bare cock or ass unless I am tended to first. There can be no sexual relationship without it. I’ll tease until we’re both dripping, but nothing is really happening until his face is between my thighs for a lengthy period of time.

So, I agree, and on our third meeting, we’re vaxxed (and still tested) so we can kiss and get sloppy. I’m a germaphobe and he’s proven to be SUPER clean, so it’s like our pre-pandemic days. And there’s grinding and kissing, clothed cock stroking and teasing. Pinning and scratching, sexiness and nakedness. It’s familiar, he’s familiar.
I’m quite confident in both my body and my actions, and I like being admired, even when it’s from inches away. Surely soft caresses and stares, light thigh kisses and hot breath on my ass is the precursor to a wide wet tongue on my slippery pink skin, as it’s been in the past. Surely, he must be teasing himself when I’ve given him the all-clear. His hesitancy is new, but I’ll allow it for now, however, my patience is wearing thin.

Hours go by, and before we take a break from our entanglement he asks if I’m going to fuck him in his ass that night. I laugh. Um, no, we build up to that over the course of the next month. He knows this. We eat snacks, talk, browse videos, and I can’t keep my hands off him. So I stroke his lovely tool while he speaks of serious things. And finally, he stops talking when the point is reached where he wants to pounce.
He asks if we can fuck. I make him tell me what he wants.
* I enjoy making my bois verbalize their lust for me… giving them the OK to tell me how horny they are. I want to hear how badly they want me. It’s especially fun when they’re shy and it’s not natural. I have him repeat himself, yet I don’t move.
‘Good’, I say, ‘I want to straddle you, but it’s conditional, hun’.

I’m confused that he expects penetration without feasting on my body first. This person who asked me to join him for our third go-round in 6 years, the same person with whom I’ve smothered with my crotch leaving him gasping for air, on multiple occasions. The man who knows my body intimately and whose tongue has been in every hole. Who knows how I operate. Who I’ve collared, spanked, slapped, tied up, milked, humiliated, choked, and fucked for hours.
He looks at his hand, his thumb buried inside my pussy and says, ‘Ahh, yes, I need to make you wet, yes’. He proceeds to drip spit onto his hand on my crotch and stares longingly at my body.
‘Fuck, I’d love to taste you’.
‘Then, do it! What the fuck are you waiting for?’
‘Because I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because my rule.’

My hand was massaging his rock-hard, freshly-condomed cock, which I was dying to mount. I let go of him immediately. This is where one would hear a record scratch and then crickets if it were a sitcom.
Ahh… here it is. NOW it all made sense. The reason we haven’t fucked 15 ways til Sunday 3 hours ago because he’s hasn’t asked/attempted to put his mouth on me.
Ohhhh, your rule. I see. You can’t break your new rule. What the fuck are you talking about? Oh, you thought you told me? Yeah no. Wait, rule about what, now? Of not exchanging bodily fluids. Ohhhh….. right. Why the fuck?
So wait a minute, let me get this straight, person who has known me for YEARS.
Who made a rule where you can’t exchange fluids, but you can spit on my pussy?

Here we are at a standstill with his brand new rule… that he unilaterally created… withOUT telling me. A rule he conveniently forgot to mention when we asked me to be part of his sexy kinky world again… a rule he didn’t mention when we planned this night to be the first of many naked evenings.
A rule that slipped his mind after I brought over a bag of toys and restraints and cages the visit prior. Or the pg-rated visit prior to that.
A ‘rule’ he specifically created so he can have very infrequent vanilla sex with another women he sees once a month. A ‘rule’ he made to pacify her so she’d ‘allow’ him to fuck me, since he met her just a few weeks earlier than when he reached out to me this time around. The me who lives directly across the street from him and sees him once a week, at least, who he’s known for years and who he’s ASKED back.

Oh, you selfish little man. You want ALL the cake? Your way? Ugh.
Well, that’s unfortunate. All of it.
Unfortunate that he lied to me, because he KNEW that I’d never even give his proposal one nanosecond of consideration if he had told me his mouth wouldn’t be touching me. He KNEW that I may not have even allowed him to worship my feet and stroke my legs when we were still masked and seated apart on the couch on the two prior visits. He knew there would have not been ANY visits if I had known about this.

And that was the end of that.
I calmly told him that this was unacceptable because he knows better. He swore up and down that he told me (he knows he didn’t) and he sadly got dressed. I gathered my things from the floor and couch, fridge and counter, and explained how disappointed I am in him, as a person. To be so manipulative and small. Reminding him it was he who called ME back to spend more time with me for very specific reasons. I hugged him goodbye, wished him luck, and that was that.
Then I proceeded to thank myself for having my own ‘rule’.
Where I come first.
Literally and figuratively.

It’s only a matter of time before I hear from him once again, probably right before he leaves or perhaps once he’s settled. Most likely with an apology and yet another confession of regret for crappy decisions he’s made regarding my involvement in his life.
Is he a submissive? Absolutely not. Could he behave submissively? Yes.
Were his intentions real when he wanted to reconnect? I think so.
Was he confused as to the way I work? Yes, though I can’t understand why.
Because in his insistence to be in total control of himself and the situation this time, he inadvertently gave the power to the vanilla chick he JUST met. I mean really, she should be wielding the crop.
I will NEVER give ANYONE an angry ultimatum. If I’m not chosen, then I don’t belong there.

And life goes on.

Summer Break

I’ve been away for the summer. Not away-away, just away from this blog. Away from writing altogether.
It’s been sweltering hot.
I’ve had people in my home.
I’ve been doing all kinds of creative stuff that I’ve been needing to do for a long time.
Plus, I was having an extremely difficult time trying to ignore the surreal happenings in my nation and write about sexy relationships as if everything was business as usual.
Ok, it was mostly that last one.

I’m sure anyone who writes was/is in the same boat.

It’s a fucked up time in history for everyone, and I didn’t want this site to be where I, too, join the whiners club. And I certainly didn’t want to wind up writing another ‘How to Find a Person to Shag Date During the Pestilence’ article, because there are a billion of them.

I needed to let this sit quiet for a bit, however, I’ll be back in a few weeks or so.
I’ve got a ton of half-written drafts patiently waiting to be finished, and many more ideas for articles with subjects I find relative and interesting.
I’ll admit that it might be difficult to COMPLETELY immerse myself in any person-on-person content since I’m currently single and haven’t much of a motivating reason to change that at this time. 😐
In any case, I’ll return soon.

In the meantime, go read the history of queening, or why kinksters sometimes wear that cool Triskelion symbol thingee, or why some men THINK they’re into being humiliated and beaten when they actually just don’t know any better.
Leave me a comment or a message. I’ll check in.

Be extra safe, people.
Keep busy and be CREATIVE. Things are going to be this way for a while.
Take vitamins, get sunshine and sleep, and call your old friends.
Mask up and COVER your fucking nose, ffs. – I’ve had a cousin die very quickly from this virus, without the time to even make it to a hospital. –
Shit is real.
But we can get through it.

See you soon,
♥♥ ~ T

Office Play

Sexy pro throwback memory to follow…

A few years ago when I was spanking folks for money, I had what I called a white collar ‘Lunch Hour’ special. I targeted business men for officeplay during their business day, the idea that no one would be the wiser and it would be ULTRA hot.
How sexy-sneaky is this, right?

Here’s the scenario:
I’d establish communication with him by email or through my old site. My clients generally found me on one of the few sites where people can sell things or directly on Tumblr.
After we decided that an office scene is what he wanted, I’d get a retainer of some type and all the specifics; where, when, what, blah blah. Then I’d call his office during the day and ask to speak to him, saying I was whoever he told me to be.
This could be a cold salesperson, a colleague of some sort, or someone simply returning his call. If the calls were answered by someone other than himself, I appear to be just another typical caller. If he answered himself, it was the official start of the game. I’d do some sexy tease talk and we’d make an appointment (even though we already had the date and time set up).
The idea of this was that whole ‘hiding in plain sight’ thing, so I looked the part by dressing business-casual and carrying a bag/case that reflected my reason for being there.

If he opted for a hotel, I’d dress as a typical vacationer or conference-attendee, as I’m being seen going in and out of the place and needed to blend in. I’d even search to see what conventions were going on in the area, just because it was fun to know all the details.

On the play day, I’d arrived at his office (or a hotel) during business hours with everything I need in my bag or briefcase. My stealthy toolbox would hold the ‘quiet’ bare minimum as to be oh-so incognito. Soft restraints, crop, blindfold, nipple clamps, dildo (strapon), and condoms. If he had a private office in a shared common space (uber risky), he would either tell his secretary he’s not to be disturbed (if he had some type of assistant). Just like in the movies.
I mean, for the love of all that is so very cliche… c’mon!
If he had an office by himself, we’d both behave as if I’m there for our meeting, just like anyone else.

Once alone, we’d have some intro role talk. After the intros, I’d start with ‘I believe I have something you need’ type dialogue, and his ‘yes Ma’am’ would begin the second the door closes.
I unlock my case, as well as the power vixen within me, and proceed to make him my whore for our allotted time… often leaving him with a couple of hidden marks, perhaps a stretched asshole, but definitely a satisfied yet humbled spirit.
I’ve mastered the art of being SILENT with everything I do, so silence isn’t that difficult for me, but the energy going into the controlled quietness on his part was generated by the risk of being found out. As to not be too weird, I’d offer up some audible chit chat and maybe a laugh or two so it was business as usual to anyone who might be close enough to his office to overhear.

I was never naked, and I never made him strip all the way. The additional thrill for me was doing what I could do to him within the limits that were presented. I made sure his clothes were not wrinkled or messed up (kneeling for a short time does NOT create wrinkles the way you’d think), and the space was exactly as I found it. I bring baby wipes and plastic bags and even concealer in case there is a visible redness that takes longer than an hour to fade. I had the whole thing under control.

I’d finally leave by him opening the door and him walking me out with a handshake and a ‘good meeting you, I’ll definitely get back to you about that’, or something to that effect. And maybe I’d say ‘sounds good, take care’, then hastily walk away and take the elevator down and keep looking at my watch, or ask someone the time (to make sure I’m on schedule for who-knows-what).

This was so fun for me… so much power, ugh… because it’s smack dab in the middle of the day and RIGHT THERE WHERE HE WORKED. And he’s then required to continue his workday. Ha!
He’s just supposed to carry on with this lingering and undeniable distraction of what just happened with ZERO time to decompress, as well as the very real fear of having being secretly found out by his coworkers (or wife).

Sexy as fuck, right? Oomph!

Well… even though the sneaky office domination is what I wanted so badly…
and it was so very well prepared for in every way…
I actually never got it.

wamp wamp

Yeah.
Regardless of how worked up I was with the idea of the in-broad-daylight office venue scenario… my two ‘office boys’ just booked pretty hotel rooms for their ‘lunch breaks’. They’d leave after our time together to return to work, but I was invited to have the room for the entire night. That was sweet and appreciated, and I used those times as little vacations.
And yes, the men were flustered in the idea they had to return to their day like normal… but they had a space to be vocal and ‘safe’, plus they had time to fix themselves up and compose themselves before returning. And none of that holds the same suspense or excitement as my intentions when coming up with this delicious plan.

So, the real issue here is that I never even went inside someone’s office to do sexy things… their place of business… where the whole point is the risk… except for one time.
And that was just to have an initial meeting (which was still fun role play).
So yeah, I physically went inside an office for the ‘Lunch Hour Special’ ONE TIME.
And that doesn’t really count because nothing NSFW happened. 😕

Ah well, I’m sure it’s for the best.
Office submission would have been super sexy and illicit, and I still get excited thinking about tying someone up to his rolly office chair and teasing them while I slowly snoop through personal shit on his desk and all that, like in the movies.
Then restrain him to his desk in the doggy position, pull down his pants just enough to uncover his ass and then proceed to sit on him while I scroll through my phone before I make him wince by doing things to his ass, while having him repeat his begs and Ma’am in low whispers.
But logically, it’s crazy risky, and no one has fun when they’re TRULY worried about something. There’s excited/nervous anxiety and then there’s REAL fear/worry anxiety.

It also seems that very few people have totally windowless offices anymore, either. Nor do people close their office doors all the way without suspicion.

I guess I was dreaming of a sexy world I created by watching Mad Men. I’m sure you can understand.

Meh… live and learn, I suppose.

Still makes for one helluva hot setting for a sultry film or music video. Someone get on that.
You’re welcomed.

Brave Enough

I hope you meet someone brave enough to love you.

---

This little message above was sent to me a few years ago on Tumblr. The best intentions were behind it, I’m sure.
But for once, I had no response. I was left blank.
No smart-assed reply, no insightful reasoning as to what was meant, no defending my position (which is where one might instinctively want to go). 

Because I knew why.
I’ve heard this before, but this was the first time the term ‘brave’ was used. Brave. It’s extremely descriptive.
And it sat on me with the weight of hundred planets, that I haven’t yet shaken off. And it makes me sad… still.
Because, so do I.

Phone Sex Part 1 – the Foundation

It’s May 2020 now, and only 2 months into the Coronavirus stay-at-home, all-around suspension of life fallout. Some cities/states are ‘opening back up’, but it’s a rash move and one that healthworkers deem insane. We’ll soon see. The virus has been devastating to the people on the planet, but the only way the globe could take care of herself, imo. She needed a miracle and she got one. No one knows what the fuck is going on, who to believe, or when things will be OK, and people are scared.

While most humans are social creatures and rely on the company and social interaction with each another, there are many who don’t.
While most humans experience romantic love and affection at various points in their life, there are many who don’t.
I’m NOT talking about the looney tune incels or asexuals, or anyone who made it their ‘identity’ to remain a stoic island. I’m talking about those who are otherwise sane and functional people who are going through an emotional bad time or dealing with a physical disability that would warrant them a period (or life) of isolation and loneliness. I learned of a certain forgotten demographic through online sex work and it changed me.

I feel honored to have heard the voices and feelings of widows and the terminally ill. Of beautiful but lonely people with deformities or just insanely hard lives. I will always remember the conversations that force you to hold it together and be so very present, just to break down sobbing like an infant the second you hang up. Right after he thanks you SO MUCH for those fleeting moments of normalcy or memories… so appreciative for your phone friendship.
This is the stuff people don’t talk about. The human side that isn’t normally associated with phone sex, but escorts and some pro dommes know the deal. People can judge it all they want, while we just nod and stay silent because we’ve heard or seen this some things that you can’t unknow… and we don’t need validation from anyone.

I started doing paid phone sex back in 2004. At the time, only a handful of phone websites were big; Niteflirt, Talk Sugar, Keen had one, and a couple of others which I forget. I needed to find a reasonable way to make money while being a mom, and I already knew I could get paid for doing something sexy and controlling. My adult website was now offline and I thought this was absolutely perfect.

The protocol was the same for all the sites. You must have a LANDLINE, prove you’re an adult to make a profile, create a listing or two with some pics and what you’re about, and BAM you’re an independent contractor. Sites take the calls then reroute them to your line and take 30% after the dude hangs up. Easy as pie. I even bought one of those one-ear head sets that plug into your phone jack and then your phone, so I could be hands free.
Why? I still have no idea what I thought I’d be doing to need both hands, but I used it twice and then it was shoved in the junk drawer. I still have it. ha!
I remember creating some VERY generic, energetic and friendly listings at first, after looking at the other girls’ profiles to get a feel from the most popular listings.
I did a couple of calls by men who were intentionally looking for new blood and immediately felt at home.

So, with my few hours of daytime privacy, I started with a typical female type listing, harping on my age (anyone over 30 was a big deal), and figured I’d just do my sexy voice and make phone friends while I described exactly my position in the chair on the phone, what I was wearing, blah blah. I’d ask them if they wanted to stroke their pretty cock for me, then I’d proceed to elaborate on how I’d give them head or have them imagine their face buried in my pussy as I pulled it open with my fingers, etcetera, etcetera. (btw, my Windows 10 did not recognize the word ‘etcetera’ just now.)

Anyway, although some of the men were very cheap and wanted immediate orgasms by talking AT me so they could hang up quickly, the majority of men calling were NOT the gross, lazy, perverted men who people assume would use such a service. They were regular guys, with jobs and wives and they were like… NORMAL. Yes, there are always the few that are creepy or rude or weird, but that’s life, so it’s not directly related to who uses the phone to get off. They were surprisingly super sweet and very polite and I felt I could be flirty sexy (albeit vanilla) without really being someone very different. In fact, I think I only pretended something out of my comfort zone a handful of times in my years of doing it. But more on that later.

I had already been selling worn socks and an occasional pair of shoes (and underwear here and there) on a site called eBanned for years. It was a very popular site in early 00s, as eBay was JUST catching on to folks selling used panties and condoms and toothbrushes shoved up their ass, and started banning those accounts.
And although I don’t know the actual story… I WANT to say that some founding member of eBay was the mastermind behind eBanned, because it’s as if everyone knew where to go once they were given the boot from eBay, and it operated the very same way.
* eBanned still exists, but is NOTHING of what it once was. I actually have no idea how it’s still online. It’s a sad sad site.
If you want to sell (or buy) used clothing now, there are a TON of professional, well run websites to help you do so. Orange is the New Black brought it into the public eye as if it were a new thing, but it’s been going on for a long time. 😉

Anyway, by selling socks I sort of categorized the two main groups of men who collect those types of items, and felt I understood some reasons how they wound up on THOSE sites. But live interaction through the phone and creating a play by play scenario was a totally different ballgame. We were forced to speak with our voice (imagine that), and I was pleasantly surprised.

I was on call a lot during my second month. So much so that I got some little award and made over $1k and I felt really accomplished. But then I realized that the repetitive vanilla talk was WAY too stressful and left me feeling like I had to rewrite the scenario to create something fresh. It sounds crazy, but it would make me really anxious and exhausted. The men didn’t give a shit, but when I replayed the same scene or create the same actions over and over, I NEEDed to change something. So I added more listings with different themes or topics. One was for confessions only (many men want to confess made up stories and want you to react), another was for sex toys, etc.
Yeah, no…. men didn’t care what the topic was. Once they got me on the phone, the listing headline meant nothing. So I was back to pretending that I loved doing whatever they wanted, which was usually lame and boring, but kind of sweet.
* I find it so weird that they’d pay for vanilla, typical, average sex by voice, when they could be spewing crazy fetish shit to me and it costs exactly the same.
So weird. Right?

I remember one of the first regular callers I ever had was a wirey little man (no idea his size but he seemed small) who, on my first call, asked me what items I had around me. I made the mistake of telling him I had a baseball bat under my bed, because I did. It was a collector kid toy type bat, but still a bat.

So, for the next month, he called once a week for about 20 minutes, and would stroke his cock to me dictating how I would s l o w l y cram this (he believed was a normal sized) wooden bat into my nearly-tearing pussy, which sounded like:
‘ohhh god…. my pussy…. fuck… it’s so fucking… big…. oh my god… I can’t…. are you sure you want me to do this cuz I’m so fucking stretched out…. my poor pussy (his name)… oh god -grunt- moan – …. do you like knowing my pussy is about to rip like this… is this what you want (his name that I don’t remember)… moan pant ad nauseam.
All the while, I’m actually sitting in my chair, my feet up on the desk, doodling on a pad or just looking around my room, the bat buried under my bed somewhere.

After this, I decided to change up my profile and attitude and totally ran the show from then on. Aside from the few lovely men who wanted to talk and be heard in a friend-type way, I’d basically do what a domme does by asking what he’d want, then take the reins and do my thing. I’d talk so much that men would have no space to talk back, which turned out to be pretty good. If they were silent, it usually meant were stroking and satisfied.

Sometimes the interaction was super sexy and I’d get a little flustered and rub myself through my clothes, although I’d rarely actually truly get off so I’d pretend to orgasm. There were many sweet men who really wanted me to come WITH them, and when you pay for fantasy, you get it.
It was a service and it was really fun, but the turn on was the power of doing this for someone. The control is the turn on for me. Not the fantasy act. Ok, fine, and some men were crazy sexy sounding and super sweet.

In my second year, I kept thinking about the old AOL chatrooms where the cross dressers and sissy bois would BEG me to watch them on their shitty webcams, as they dressed in stockings and makeup and felt so risque and taboo. I’d gladly comply with their request if I got to order them around, and I was immediately privy to these closet exhibitionists while they greased up beer bottles or their wives’ dildos or their fists and shoved them in their asses.
They thought they were so rare and unusual, meanwhile on any given day, my screen could have 11 little video windows open with a modified copy of the same sexually repressed soul acting out his secret desires while seeking validation or permission or something.
Some of those cams were surprising or scary, like those who shit on the floor or drank their own piss, that type of stuff. For the rest of the ‘normal’ freaks, I LOVED being their voyeur… and eventually I’ll get around to those stories, but right now I’m getting sidetracked.
What am I talking about?
Oh yeah…
So upon remembering those chatrooms, I decided I wanted to watch men be nasty while gawked at, because I realized I could actually do it and be PAID.
Oh, hello perfection.

From then on, I always asked my callers if they’d like to turn on their camera for me so I could watch them yank as we were on the phone. I was never on camera, but if they had a camera and wanted to be watched, I encouraged their shy side to come out and play, and it was usually wonderful. And though only 1% of my callers ever saw my face, I took some occasional pics of myself for a few men. I also made audio recordings for some others, and felt safe enough with a few to bring their calls offsite.
I really liked doing it, and at some point I’ll write about some of my men. I’ve got some stories that will make you cry, and other stories that will make you cringe. But they’re all interesting as hell.

I dropped out of doing all phone work for a few years, and when I returned, the sites updated their platforms to accommodate all cell phones. I changed my listings to all domme and made more recordings. And although my listings were finally reflecting my natural no-role-play self… I never had the proper privacy or time to constantly log in and turn on and be on call yadda yadda, as much as I had those first few years.
*Daytime is the prime time for phone sex, because men are at work or in their car, and away from home. In lieu of being attached to the phone sites, my phone work became part of my private domme work and morphed into Skype and text.

There are many different reasons why people call phone sex lines, and I’d say there are just a few less reasons as to why people provide it. And during this time of isolation and uncertainty, you’d think those phone sex sites would be on fire. But in a weird twist, the majority of callers have been home with family, so it’s leaving quite a gap in the business, as those who provide it are more often females with nothing to hide.

I highly recommend everyone doing phone sex at SOME point in their life. Honestly. Not kidding. It’s one of the most subtle teachers of tolerance and judgement.
It forces you to learn about people and you may learn a lot about yourself. It teaches you how to listen, but also that you can be heard. Yes yes, it’s a paid thing, but so are a lot of things. Therapy comes in various forms. So does sex. So do connections.
I wasn’t difficult for me, but I’d go out on a limb and say that it won’t be that hard for anyone else, either. If you never did it and you tried, I bet you would surprise yourself. It’s safer than every type of physical sex, and oftentimes can be extremely therapeutic when it’s with a kind soul who is feeling lonely and your voice is exactly what they needed to hear.

Your voice and personality is all that’s needed. And within this world, there’s every type of fetish, all genders, and all body types and races. You can create a facade or be 100%, it doesn’t really matter. People are people, and most people are good. Sometimes good people need a stranger to get their momentary freak on, or to vent or to tell stories or to confess or to dream out loud… and that’s OK.
No, no… it’s not OK.

It’s actually really fucking cool. ♥