Friday, October 1, 2010


I used to slink into the deeply sexual seediness of the old, pre-Disneyland, Times Square to ferret out bdsm porn. I mostly sought out the contact magazines. I felt melded to this secret underbelly of hot bdsm sex. There were days I thought of nothing more. Somehow I managed to graduate, get a job and get sober during the late 70's and early 80's; but all I really truly wanted to do when the need hit was to see prodommes. It was an irresistable impulse. Completely and utterly beyond my control. I felt horrible, racking guilt at my complete lack of control. I was a bad, bad, boy for wanting this. And this was the essence of hot. Being bad - being secret - being a double-life agent sneak - made it all the more forbidden and all the more gut wretchingly, achingly, dick-hardenly hot.

A prodomme friend talked about how she got way too many emails where the guy just put his dick on the table and expected - no demanded - in a language that only remotely resembled English, that she deal with it. I used to do that all the time, whether by letter, phone call, or much, much later by email. I liked to think I was charming and facinating, but I was just a major league, presumptuous pain in the ass.

I exhibited, within the bounds of the comparatively reasonable, the worst attributes of clients. I no-showed, I was a vertible cock spammer when I discovered email, I called and wasted time promising a call back and never coming through. I sessioned twice or three times and then disappeared - I'm sure leaving her to wonder if she'd offended me, done something wrong, and what had happened anyway. I gave bad client.

But when the drive was clean, pure, lust and I connected? When there was a chemistry with a beautiful, experienced domme? The scene was was virally sexual, beautiful and deeply fullfilling.

Diana was one of the those dommes.

It was the early to mid 80's. Houses had not hit the Scene. I was an avid reader of all the Matriarch productions. A tall lithe Russian domme named Sasha had caught my eye and I somehow managed to write to her at a P.O. Box and got a contact number. The process of making the appointment was sex itself. There was just something about being asked over the phone when I'd last sought solo relief and was I rubbing one out while we spoke. Made me boil over with such inexorably driven desire that I just could not ever say no, when the need hit.

Years later, a domme friend said it was like "Cat People". You couldn't help turning into the huge, primal black cat.

Diana's studio at the time was on the south side of 23rd Street between Park and Third. Years later I visited Venus's studio which was in the same building, only a floor below. Diana's place was at the top of a seemingly endless, vertical staircase climb. But I thought I was seeing Sasha. When she met me at the door, she looked a little different than her pictures, but she was hot so who cared. It was definitely going to work.

I saw her pretty regularly for about two years. After the third session she confessed that her name was Diana and Sasha was an entirely different person. Diana really introduced me to small stints of chastity as she preferred I come to her with at least three days of no orgasm. She showed me how much more desperate, submissive, and compliant I became without release. She play pierced me. She teased me mercilessly. I found two picture books in the bins of a dimly lit Times Square smut shop dedicated to only her. I made cut-out montages and brought them to her. I was deeply connected. But not in love.

Then one day when I called for a session, she was gone. I was bereft. I tracked down the real Sasha after many failed attempts. She said Diana had left town but promised she'd get my teary, heartfelt, plea to know where she was to her. I never heard from Diana again.

Maybe it was the first time I truly realized the power of the client/prodomme relationship. I couldn't imagine life without her. And yet I've never heard from her or anything about her. Though there are dommes from my past I wonder about -- she has not become one of them.

Such is the nature of so much secrecy.

But there was something about being tied tightly to her simple bondage chair as I'd watch her pull up her tight, little, black ribbed dress high over her hips. She'd watch me. Stare into my eyes. Look down at my involuntary, iron-risen, reaction. She'd sidle over to touch my face, to whisper in my ear some reeking obscentity. She'd sit on my knee. If she released my hand would I show her, she'd ask? Would I show her how much I wanted what I could never have? Would I present her my honey? Did I want this?

Could I beg?

Could I give a her just a tiny little piece of my heart?

What do you think?


Aarkey said...

You ask... what do I think? I think hindsight is 20/20. I also think that wisdom won from hard experiences teaches some great lessons.

I also think that I'm not sure that I'm reading your 4th paragraph as intended.

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

Another white hot memory from the vaults!! Thanks for sharing that comrade!! I have to say the scene back then seemed to be so much more infused with mystery and excitement. Or perhaps it's just the way you tell it. Oddly I was listening to Devo's "Uncontrollable Urge" right before I read this. Very post appropriate I thought! ;-)

Word verification=doses As in large doses of.....

advochasty said...

Aarkey -

I'm glad to hear what you think. Ya, wisdom won and still to win. You're only as wise and your most recent faux pas.

I suppose "virally sexual" was a bad image to attempt - especially connected to the 80's. But I'm leaving it. Viral as in rapidly spreading, uncontrolled, through the roof viral.

One thing all my sessions were, pretty much without fail, was safe sexually. Never a hint of an STD.

The "what do you think" ... was meant as... did I give her just another little piece of my heart, as Janice liked to say.

The answer is, of course I did. It was mostly a rhetorical question.


Diana was mysterious, nurturing, hot, sexy, and just waaay fun. I recall her telling me that before she moved to 23rd Street she had a sprawling live-in playspace that she used run on the Upper West Side.

I actually thought she was Sasha for about three sessions. I think when she concluded she'd gotten me wrapped around her little finger and that I wasn't about to leave, she told me her "real" name. It just made her all the more sexy and film noir-ish that she'd pretended to be this other domme.

Subdued said...

Hi Advo,

Were these the dommes who used to run that Screw ad with the airplane?

advochasty said...

Subdued -

Hmmm, don't recall a screw ad with an airplane off hand. My memories of the contact was through a PO Box in one of the Matriarch publications. There were a circle of late 70's/ early '80's dommes who regularly did photo spreads and had contact P.O. boxes. I'm totally blanking on other names.

I do remember Wanda O'Brien from Kansas City of all places. Never went out there, but I desperately wanted to meet her and session with her.

Sasha was an NY domme of that era. I don't think I ever saw an ad for Diana anywhere. It was a complete happenstance meeting.

Subdued said...

Thanks for the reply, Advo. The 23rd Street reference made me think of these other two dommes who had a place there: Sasha and Brada. I just searched on Max Fisch and yes, this was a different Sasha. They used to have this little ad in Screw with the two of them standing in front of an airplane. I had heard great things about Sasha and once booked a session. The place had a little sitting room with a bookshelf that swung open to reveal the dungeon. But when I arrived, it was only Brada, and she was clearly a he. I mumbled an apology and split.

advochasty said...

Subdued -

Great story!! Love the hidden bookshelf thing!

I just realized that there are pictures of Diana on the Classic Dominants group on yahoo. She's "Lady Diana" there.

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

@Subdued: Great story!

@Advo: I remember seeing pictures of her before...

Sublivion2k said...

Great post. Really makes me wonder if I could handle a relationship with a prodomme. Not sure I could get my head into an appropriate emotional context, but then, I am still sort of stuck in that learned-not-chosen monogamous view of the world.

Good thought-provoking stuff.

Thanks for sharing.